Fierce Protector: Hard to Handle trilogy, Book 1 by Janine Kane

gave away six inches and a lot of reach. One round plus a minute were enough for the referee to bring the fight to a close.
    “Jesus. They don’t take any prisoners, do they?” marveled Eva.
    “Honey, you very literally ain’t seen nothing yet,” Tyler assured her. “These are the non-GIs, still. Once Zack steps up, you’ll think this were just kids’ play.”
    Needham battered his way to the final, where he faced an even taller and – Eva noted with wide-eyed appreciation – even more muscular opponent. Bare-chested, as they all were, he seemed to be a mass of pure muscle, but highly co-ordinated and intelligent. They were evenly matched, producing a final worthy of the name, a tense, three-round slugfest of precision hitting, dancing footwork and the cold, controlled brutality known only to highly-trained practitioners of martial arts.
    Needham was bloodied and had been pinned down several times, but in the third round’s dying seconds, with the crowd roaring for it to happen, he twisted to dodge a flying fist and replied with a hard, sickening connection between his right elbow and his dizzied opponent’s left temple. Seemingly in slow motion, the huge man took two steps back, then lost his footing and crumpled to the floor. It was like watching a granite statue collapse, its supports chopped from underneath. The arena erupted; seldom had Eva heard such astounding noise from a mere three hundred spectators.
    “You ready for this?” It was Mitch, beer in hand, face plastered with an excited grin. “Oh, man, I swear to you, girl, it’s like watching David to Zack’s goddamned Goliath . I don’t care who they put up there.”
    As it turned out, Zack’s bout was the first of the GI category’s initial rounds. The crowd settled for a moment before the announcer accompanied Zack’s entrance from the preparatory rooms. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I want to introduce a young man who is known personally to many of you,” he said, the crowd responding wildly at each pause, “and is respected by everyone he ever meets.”
    He’s a friggin’ local legend , Eva thought, butterflies enlivening her stomach. “Wow, is he famous or something?”
    “I can only go on what Mitch told me. The crowd noise might clue you in,” said Tyler with a friendly smile. He was as taken aback as his two female companions. I mean, the guy just grilled in my front yard, and now look at all of this!
    “Four times deployed to play his vital role in the War On Terror, and four times a returning hero,” the announcer continued, whipping up the crowd with practiced ease, “it is my pleasure to welcome back to the ring a fierce competitor,” he boomed, carrying the crowd to new heights, “an accomplished fighter ,” he emphasized, giving the noise time to approach its peak, “the winner of three purple hearts, the Distinguished Service Cross and the Silver Star as a Navy SEAL,” he raged, almost drowned out now by the full-throated yelling which seemed ready to lift the arena’s roof straight off, “Zachary . . . Norcross!”
    It was a noise orgy like nothing Eva thought a modest crowd could create. They were stamping and yelling, competing with a thunderous rendition of Jimmy Hendrix’s classic opening to Wild Thing blaring through the PA speakers, willing their hero to the ring. His competitor, introduced with less gusto but with respectful approbation from both the crowd and announcer, was Brandon Hillman, another ex-Navy type who was now part of the town’s fire department. Zack shrugged off his scarlet robe and revealed his musculature, a model of taut perfection. His sternum was the only unadorned area; every other part of his torso – his pectorals, his incredibly sculpted abdomen, the muscles which pointed attractively down in a strong V-shape which ended somewhere in his navy blue shorts – was a rippling accomplishment.
    Brandon wasn’t bad-looking, either, Eva saw. Amid the incredible noise, the two came