Fighting for Flight (37 page)

Blake turns around in his seat. “It’s show
time.”

We unload from the van where we’re met by a man in a
suit. He introduces himself as the event planner and takes us to
our assigned dressing room.

The space is about half the size of the locker room
at the UFL Training Center. Two large leather couches line the
walls with a coffee table in between. The floor has been covered
with padded, interlocking mats that provide cushion for a grappling
warm up. A heavy bag hangs in the corner, along with some boxing
mitts. A small refrigerator sits in the opposite corner, probably
stocked with water and a variety of sports drinks.

I drop my bag of gear next to a couch and take a
seat while the guys on my team talk to the planner. Blake turns
from the group, stalking toward me. His face is hard. Shit. Once he
reaches me, his hand motions to his ear for me to pop out my
earbuds.

He points to the door. “Motherfucker’s sending in
chicks.”

“The fuck you say?”

A woman in this room would cause the exact opposite
environment that I need. Before a fight it’s all about relaxation.
A relaxed mind is a sharp mind. The last thing any of us need is
some chick in here kissing ass.

I shift to the side on the couch to look behind
Blake. My team is hovering over the event planner, pointing in his
face. The poor suit looks like he might shit his pants. I sit back,
shrug, and lock eyes with Blake.

“It’s probably just something the networks
orchestrated for ratings. They come, they sit in the corner and
keep to themselves. They keep the fuck away from me.”

“Been fighting here for years and never had chicks
in the dressing room.” Blake’s eyebrows lower over his eyes. “Gibbs
knows we need calm before a fight. Why would he agree to this
shit?”

“No clue. But lately this publicity shit is leading
him around by his dick.” First Camille, now this. He seems less
about the fight and more about the ratings.

Blake nods then turns back to the team and the suit.
I pop in my earbuds, drop my head back, close my eyes, and pull up
my girl’s face.

I’m lost in the music when the couch dips next to
me. I look up to see Blake mouthing something at me, and squint to
read his lips.

“. . . fucking told you that dick was up to no
good.”

I catch something out of the corner of my eye that
makes me do a double take.

Candy.

What the hell is she doing here? Before the question
registers in my mind, it’s answered.

Distraction.

Candy and a girl I’ve never seen saunter around the
room, asking if there is anything anyone needs. They’re both
wearing what amounts to Hooter’s uniforms, minus the owl. Their red
shorts look like they’re painted on and their tank tops look more
like sports bras.

Fucking Dominick.

“Wes!” My blood is boiling and I’m itching for a
fight. I shake my head, half furious and half impressed with
Dominick’s play.

If he can’t distract me, he’ll piss me off enough to
want to kill someone then put me in the octagon.

My head trainer turns and walks to me. “What’s up,
Jonah?”

I stand and meet Wes eye to eye. “I want those girls
out of here. Now.” My voice is a low growl.

He looks over his shoulder and back to me, his eyes
narrow. “Those girls?” He tilts his head, motioning to Candy and
her sidekick.

“Yeah, Wes. Those girls.” I throw my arms out and
look around the room. “Who the fuck do you think I’m talking about?
They’re the only fucking girls in the room!” Blood pounds in my
ears and a low buzz rattles in my head.

“Get ’em out of here, Wes. Seriously.” Blake’s voice
is low and threatening at my side.

Wes steps over to the girls and says something I
can’t hear. They both look my way, and I spear Candy with a glare
that I hope sends fear through her veins.

Her smile disappears and her eyes hit the floor. The
girl with her is going into some long explanation about something
and Wes listens. After a few minutes, he makes his way back to
me.

“They can’t leave. They’ve been assigned to the
room. If they leave, they’re afraid they’ll get fired.”

“That’s bullshit!” Blake turns toward the girls. I
grab his elbow.

Fuck it. I don’t have the brain space to worry about
this shit right now. I’m falling right into Dominick’s trap by
getting fired up. He wants me half-cocked before I get to the
octagon. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“It’s cool, Blake. You just keep that bitch away
from me.”

I suit up and hit the heavy bag. Every punch and
kick relieves some of the anger polluting my focus. Blake and I
move through some grappling techniques, and I feel the last of my
tension dissolve.

Dominick thought he could goad me? Wrong.

Feeling more like myself, I go back to my place on
the couch. Owen hits me up with the twenty-minute warning.
Finally.

Behind my closed eyes, I play memories that make me
relax. My dad and I playing ball in the front yard, him hugging my
mom in the kitchen when he’d come home from work. Raven’s face
alight with laughter, her peaceful expression when she’s deep in
sleep—

A small hand brushes my knee then shoots straight up
my shorts. My eyes fly open. I grab the hand and still its
progression. Pressing it to my inner thigh, I pin the offender with
my stare.

Candy is sitting on the coffee table, her body
between my knees. She’s leaning forward in her barely-there
clothes, her palm against my skin under my shorts. And I’m holding
it there with my hand. Fuck.

The room is almost empty except for a couple guys,
who are currently being distracted by Candy’s friend.

I rip her hand from my leg and stand, towering over
her. “Nice try, bitch. Next time you put your hand on me, I’ll
break it.”

She pulls free from my grip, fear working behind her
eyes. She schools her features. “Whatever. Can’t blame a girl for
trying.”

It’s time to end this.

Raven

My knees are bouncing like the pistons on a Ferrari.
I have a burning urge to run laps around this arena, but the fear
that grips my gut keeps me planted in my seat.

I’m grateful for the executive car Jonah had pick us
up. I don’t think either of us could drive with these nerves.

The driver made sure to get us here just before the
title fight, opting to forgo the opening fights at Jonah’s request.
He feared they might freak me out. He’s right.

Where’s Guy?

Last time we spoke, he said he’d be here for the
opening fights. He’s not.

I grab my phone. No missed calls. I call Guy again.
No answer.
Darn it.
Maybe his phone battery died, or he left
it at home.

“Still no answer?” Katherine is beside me, her hands
folded tightly in her lap.

“No.” I shove my phone into my pocket. “I can’t
imagine what’s keeping him. He seemed really excited to come
tonight.”

Katherine rubs my back then re-knots her hands in
her lap. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

My fingers drum against the plastic seat of my
folding chair, a furious beat that matches my racing heart. I scan
rows of people surrounding the octagon. The crowd hums with
anticipation, bloodthirsty. So close to the octagon floor, no doubt
I’ll be able to hear the thud of fist on flesh at this distance. My
stomach plummets.

I check the glowing digital numbers on the clock
above the octagon. Eighteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds,
thirty-six, thirty-five. They tick down, one by one, just like my
freedom. Numbered in minutes. I wipe my sweaty palms on my
jeans.

A warm hand stills my twitchy leg. “Calm down,
honey. He’ll be okay.” Katherine misinterprets my anxiety.

Watching Jonah get hit in the octagon will be
difficult, but I’m more concerned with his acting skills than his
fighting skills.

I nod, smile, and fix my eyes back on the clock.
Where is Guy?

The seats in the arena fill up quickly as people
return from their bathroom and concession stand breaks. The air is
heavy with energy and aggression. It could be my imagination, but
the smell of blood and sweat seem to linger in the air from the
earlier fights. As the main event draws near, the arena comes
alive, chanting.

“Assassin, Assassin, Assassin . . .” Over and over,
ratcheting my tension.

I wonder if Jonah can hear this from his dressing
room. I wish so badly I was with him now, allowing the warmth of
his skin and soothing words to comfort me. My arms wrap around my
body. He’d hold me close. Probably tell me to breathe and relax.
He’d tell me everything is okay and he’s going to take me home
tonight as his, for good.

Jonah’s corner is empty. No familiar faces in sight.
I look up the aisle. They must all be in the back with him. The
thought brings my heart rate down and the muscles in my shoulders
ease up their grip. We’ll be together soon enough, but for now it’s
good he’s surrounded by his team. I’d probably only make him
worry.

Eight minutes, four seconds.

“Hey, Raven. This seat taken?”

My back stiffens at the grating voice. Candy. Swift
air brushes my arm as she sits in the seat to my right. I turn to
look at her, certain my face conveys my shock. My jaw falls slack
as I take in her clothes. Not clothes, more like a modest
bikini.

I’m speechless.

“Hello. Are you Raven’s friend?” Katherine reaches
her hand across my lap towards Candy. “I’m Katherine Slade.”

Candy leans in, pressing her hard, fake boob into my
arm, making me cringe and recoil. I stare in amazement as an angel
and the devil shake hands. In my lap.

“Yes, I am.” Candy’s tone nauseates me. “It’s nice
to meet you, Mrs. Slade. I’m also friends with your son. We’re very
close.” Her words are said to Katherine, but the way her eyes slide
to mine, they’re meant for me.
Bitch.

“Oh, really, you know Joey?”

“Yes, I do. We’ve been close for a while now.” Her
saccharine smile and overly painted face lean towards Katherine.
“As a matter of fact, I just left him backstage.”

My heart cramps violently. I lock my narrow eyes on
her. She was with him?

“I don’t understand. You were with him just now?”
Katherine sounds as confused as I feel.

A wicked smile stretches across Candy’s face, and I
wouldn’t have been surprised if she had fangs. “Yes. He’s doing
great. A little tense, so I rubbed his shoulders forever.” She
draws out the last word as she rubs her hands and flexes her
fingers. “My hands are killing me.”

Fucking bitch!

Shocked, I meet Katherine’s eyes. She looks . . .
disappointed. She believes Candy. Well, I don’t.

With my elbows resting on my knees, I drop my head
into my hands, rubbing my temples. This is not happening. If I get
into it with Candy, that will only upset Katherine. But if I don’t
call her out, then Katherine will think her son is a low-down,
dirty dog. What do I do?

I love Jonah and I trust him more than anyone. Candy
is lying. I bet she wasn’t even back there with him. For the first
time, the familiar creeping doubt that normally seeps in is absent.
He’s putting everything on the line for me tonight. Putting
everything he’s worked for aside for me and our future. I’ll be
damned if I’m going to let Candy make him out to be anything less
than the hero he is.

My shoulders relax and I sit up straight. I turn
into Candy’s face as she forces an innocent expression, and
fails.

“You know what, Candy?” I’m ready to unleash on the
evil slut.

“So, Raven, what are you doing here anyway?” Candy
starts talking as if I hadn’t even opened my mouth. “Jonah told me
you weren’t able to come. Something about, hm, what was it?” She
snaps her fingers. “Oh, yeah, something about getting a new job
with your father? Dominick?”

Katherine gasps, and my jaw locks down, making my
teeth ache.

How does she know about Dominick? Jonah and Blake
are the only two people who know. My head spins. How else would she
know that unless she was back there? Talking about me. They would
never do that.

None of this makes sense.

Unless?

She’s working for Dominick.

My heart pounds and I want to scream. Adrenaline
fists my hands. I can’t lose it here. Not in front of her. I won’t
give her the satisfaction. But one thing’s certain: I need to get
out of here.

“Excuse me,” I mumble and stand to leave.

“Raven?” Katherine stands next to me, her eyebrows
pinched together.

“I’m fine, Katherine. I’ll just be a minute.”

I scoot past Candy into the aisle, grasping my hands
together to keep from backhanding her. She coughs to cover her
snicker. I whirl to face her, giving up my restraint.
One slap.
Then I’m out of here.

The lights go dark. The room explodes in a
fan-crazed roar. I’m frozen in place, unable to see in front of me.
A spotlight cuts through the darkness. The top of the stairs
illuminates a group of very large men. A man wearing a black shirt
that says “Crew” in yellow across his chest ushers me back, telling
me to take my seat. Back in place, Katherine grabs my hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to UFL
one-ninety-eight.” The announcer’s voice fills the room.

The crowd roars and my shoulders tighten with
tension.

“Six-time Heavyweight Champion, Victor ‘The Bull’
Del Toro, will defend his title against the undefeated Jonah ‘The
Assassin’ Slade.”

A mix of boos and cheers ring in my ears.
Katherine’s grip tightens. The driving bass of Jay-Z’s song “Niggas
in Paris” fills the dome-shaped arena, sending the fans into a
frenzy. The air electrifies my skin, every hair standing on
end.

“Let’s welcome our challenger. Ladies and gentlemen,
put your hands together for Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade.” The
announcer’s voice draws out his name and my body breaks out in
goose bumps.