"You're the one who said he was having trouble hanging on to the bag," Annja reminded him. He sounded mad, but she knew it was all an act. Eddie was loud and proud, but she liked him and knew that the feeling was reciprocated.

"Girl, you're hittin' harder than I ever seen you hit. What have you been doin'?"

"Archaeology." Annja shrugged.

Eddie waved that away. He looked at her. "You don't look no different."

"I'm not." Annja mopped her arms. "Maybe you're just having an off day."

"I told people I had an off day when I fought Cassius Clay. The truth of the matter was that man hit me so hard I couldn't count to two." Eddie picked up a towel and wiped down, as well. "But something's different about you."

Annja shrugged. "I just feel good, Eddie. That's all."

"Humph," he said, looking at her through narrowed eyes. "Usually when you come back from one of your trips, it takes you a little while to get back to peak conditioning."

"I do my roadwork and keep my legs strong wherever I go," she replied. But she knew what he was talking about. Tonight's workout had seemed almost… easy.

She'd done plenty of jump rope, the speed bag and the heavy bag, a serious weight rotation with more weight and more reps than she'd ever put up before. Something was different. Because even after all of that she felt as if she could do it all again.

Eddie stood by his office with his arms folded and stared at the young black man in headgear beating on a guy who couldn't seem to hold his own against his opponent. Annja had noticed the guy, watching the sadistic way he'd beaten the other fighter.

"Who's the new fighter?" she asked.

Eddie shook his head. "Trouble."

"Does he have another name?" Annja watched as the fighter knocked his opponent down again.

Three men about the fighter's age all clapped and cheered the fighter's latest triumph.

"Name's Keshawn. He says he's a businessman." Eddie didn't sound ready to give the young man an endorsement.

Annja took in the tattoos marking the fighter's arms and legs. "He looks like a banger," she said.

"He is," Eddie agreed. "Knew him when he was little. Had a heart then. It all turned bad now. He keeps doin' what he's doin', he'll be dead or locked away in a couple years."

This time the other guy in the ring couldn't get to his feet. Keshawn's hangers-on cracked up, cheered and threw invective at the man.

Keshawn turned to Eddie and spit out his mouthpiece. "Hey, old man!" he yelled. "You sure you ain't got nobody that'll spar with me? Just a couple rounds? I promise I won't hurt 'em much." Arrogance and challenge radiated in him like an electric current.

The other boxers working the rotations didn't respond.

"Anybody?" Keshawn gazed around the club. "I got a thousand dollars says nobody here can put me outta this ring."

"It time for you to go, boy," Eddie said. "Your ring time is up."

Keshawn beat his chest with his gloves. "I'll fight anybody who wants this ring."

Eddie walked toward the ring. "That ain't my agreement with you, boy. You paid for time, you took your time. Now you haul your ass outta my place."

A cocky grin twisted Keshawn's lips. "You best stop callin' me 'boy,' old man. I might start takin' it personal."

Annja stepped behind Eddie, staying slightly to his right.

"Go on," Eddie growled. "Get outta here."

Releasing his hold on the ring ropes, Keshawn skipped out to the middle of the ring and took up a fighting stance. "You want this ring, old man?" He waved one of his gloves in invitation. "Come take it from me."

Eddie cursed the younger man soundly, not holding back in any way. "You best come on down outta there."

"You best not come up in here after me," Keshawn warned. He was over six feet, at least two hundred pounds and cut by steroids. His hair was blocked and he wore a pencil-thin mustache. He grinned and slammed his gloves together. "You'll get yourself hurt, old man."

Eddie started to climb up into the ring.

Annja caught the old man's arm. "Call the police. You don't need to go in there."

"This is my place, Annja," he told her fiercely. "I don't stand up for what's mine, I might as well pack up and go sit in an old folks' home." He shrugged out of her grip and slid between the ropes.

Keshawn smiled more broadly and started skipping, showing off his footwork. "You think you got somethin' for me, old man?"

Annja caught hold of the ropes and stood at the ring's edge. The confrontation had drawn the attention of the rest of the club's regulars. No one appeared ready to intercede, though. Annja hoped someone had called the police, but she didn't want to leave long enough to go to her locker for her cell phone.

Slowly, hands at his sides, Eddie walked toward the younger man. "I told you to get outta here, boy. I meant what I said."

Keshawn danced away from Eddie. "They say you used to be somethin' to see, old man. Were you really? Were you a good boxer?"

Eddie moved so fast that even Annja, who had been expecting it, almost didn't see it. He fired a jab straight into Keshawn's face, slipping past the headgear and popping the younger man in the nose.

Surprised, Keshawn staggered back. He cursed virulently. Holding a glove to his nose, he snorted bloody mucus onto the canvas. Crimson ran down his face. "You're gonna pay for that, old man."

"I told you to get out," Eddie said. Although his opponent was taller and bigger and at least forty years younger, there was no fear in the old boxer. "You best listen to your elders. Somethin' you shoulda learned at your granny's knee."

Without a word, Keshawn attacked. For a minute, no more, Eddie withstood the flurry of blows, tucking his elbows in and keeping his curled fists up beside his head to protect his face. He even managed a few punches of his own, but Keshawn blocked them or shook them off, in the full grip of rage.

In seconds, Keshawn had the old boxer penned in the corner and was beating and kicking him.

Annja used her teeth to unlace her gloves, then shook them off. Other gym members started to move in, but Keshawn's hangers-on held them back.

Annja rolled under the ropes and onto the canvas before anyone could stop her. Coming up behind Keshawn, she kicked the gangbanger's legs out from under him and pulled him away from Eddie.

"You shouldn't a done that," Eddie whispered, barely able to hang on to the ropes. "Should've stayed outta this, Annja."

Annja didn't say anything. There had been no choice. She turned as she sensed Keshawn moving behind her.

"Don't know who you are, white girl," the big man said, "but this sure ain't any business of yours."

"Somebody's called the cops by now," Annja said, lifting her hands to defend herself. "If you stay here, you're just going to get arrested."

Fear wriggled inside her. She felt it. She breathed in and out, concentrating on that, keeping herself ready. Reading his body language, she knew exactly when he was going to throw the first punch.

Chapter 21

KESHAWN THREW A jab with his left hand.

Twisting, Annja dodged the blow, letting it fly past her head to the left. At the same time, she brought her right hand up and slammed the Y between her thumb and her forefinger into the base of her attacker's throat.

As he stumbled back. Annja rolled her hips, drew her right hand back and swiveled. She drove her left foot into Keshawn's face so hard that she forced him back several feet.