His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his body sagged with weakness. He felt as though he’d been banged around, punched in the face, and finally knocked down in the last round. His breath was shallow, just like it had been after his last fight, the night he’d thought he was a goner, the night he’d been rabbit-punched in the back of the head, supposedly by accident. He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest was caved in, almost as if his opponent had launched several hooks into his gut. He’d sworn he would never fight again, not for any reason, and certainly not for any amount of money. So what had happened to him? He started to raise a hand to his head when he realized someone was holding it. His eyes flew open to the sight of someone slumped half on the bed and half on a chair. The glow of the lantern on the bedside table revealed it was a woman.
