Fighting for Flight (38 page)

A bright light flashes to the top of the stairs. My
eyes squint and burn trying to make out a familiar face. Out in
front of the group are Rex and Caleb, but I’ve never seen them like
this before. Their faces are masks of concentration. Their bodies
are taut and unforgiving. They descend the stairs with the bravado
of well-trained soldiers. I struggle for breath, suffocated by the
anticipation in the air.

As the group walks down the steps, each member of
the team comes into view. Wes walks behind Caleb and Rex, then
Blake. His teasing eyes and easygoing smile are replaced by
determination. I search for Jonah’s face in the group. Fans stand
on their chairs, yelling and reaching to get to Jonah in the center
of his crew. Security guards line the aisle, holding people
back.

My hand squeezes Katherine’s tighter and I push up
on my toes. I get a quick glimpse of the tips of dark mussed up
hair.

There he is.

His face comes into view and I’m completely floored.
He looks positively deadly and more beautiful than ever. My heart
almost beats out of my chest. His eyebrows are low in a fixed state
of focus, making his eyes look black. His full lips are held in a
tight, straight line, framed by his set jaw. The muscles under his
colorful skin seem bigger as they flex under the light. I suck in a
breath and throw my hand over my gaping mouth.

I’ve seen Jonah train and he seemed lethal then. But
now, he looks homicidal. I say a silent prayer that this is all an
act, because the way he looks now, he’d snap at the slightest
provocation.

They move down the stairs, passing rows of screaming
fans. His team is circled around him protectively. They reach the
bottom and walk down the aisle of our section. Then the group stops
short. Right at our row.

I’m frozen, my eyes burning and stuck on Jonah. He
turns his head towards me as if he’s responding to my call. His
eyes don’t search, but land right on my face. Caught in the
ferocity of his stare, I hold his gaze. A one-dimpled smile touches
his face just long enough for me to see before it disappears and
the focus is back.

That’s it. He’s letting me know that this is an act.
I take a deep breath and smile back, huge. He gives me a wink and
throws a quick look to Candy. His intense glare makes her
cower.

Take that, bitch.

And with renewed hope, I watch the group continue
down the aisle and into the octagon.

~*~

Jonah

“. . . sixth time returning Heavyweight Champion
Victor ‘The Bull’ Del Toro.”

Standing in my corner of the octagon, I wait for Del
Toro to make it down the aisle. I find my girl in the crowd. She’s
holding my mom’s hand.
Thank you, Mom.

And why in the hell is Candy sitting where Guy
should be? Maybe he couldn’t make it? But that doesn’t explain why
Dominick’s slut-bot is in his place.

It was one thing to see Candy waltz into my dressing
room like she belonged there, but seeing her standing next to Raven
is unsettling. I thought I scared her enough to get her to back
off. Apparently whatever Dominick is paying is worth her continued
humiliation. Candy spent the entire time in my dressing room,
sitting in the corner on a plastic folding chair. Blake even made
her and her slutty sidekick face the wall just to make a point.

I force my thoughts back to Del Toro and the fight.
Nothing can throw me off my game. Not one fucking thing. Ten
minutes. I need to stay up for the first two rounds. After that,
game over. My eyes slide back to Raven like they’re magnetized.

“Get your head in the fight, Slade. Your girl’s
still gonna be there when it’s over,” says Owen from behind me.

I nod. He’s right. I need to focus on the fight and
keep the buzzing in my head down to a minimum. Candy works for the
enemy, and seeing her so close to Raven makes me wish I’d locked my
girl in the bedroom. Maybe I shouldn’t have had her come tonight. I
could have set her up somewhere, far away from here, until the
outcome was determined. But I need to see her face to stay
grounded, to control the rage that’ll be riding me hard.

Del Toro stands in his corner, giving me the
stare-down. I’d give almost anything to knock that confident look
right off his scarred face. Almost.

The ref motions for us to meet in the middle of the
octagon. He gives us the speech they always give before a fight
about no hits below the belt and make it a clean fight. His words
may as well be spoken in Japanese as much as I’m paying attention.
Instead, I’m locked eye to eye with Del Toro. The ref yells
something and then repeats it. It’s on the repeat that I hear he
wants us to tap knuckles. Fuck that.

“You’re going down, you little bitch,” Del Toro
growls as he takes his fighting stance.

He has no idea.

I raise my fists and we face off. My blood sizzles
with restrained aggression.

The ref waves his hand between us. “Fight.”

Del Toro and I circle each other, sizing each other
up, fists at the ready. I focus on his hands, keeping his legs on
radar. The crowd roars over shouts from our cornermen. Mine yell,
“Take a hit!” His shout, “Take him down!”

Del Toro turns his fist, palm up, taunting me. “Come
on, pussy. Take a shot.”

My jaw grinds against my mouth guard. This cocky
fuck thinks I can’t lay him out. I mock swing. He flinches.
Yeah, fuck you.

“Get movin’, guys,” the ref says. “Fans didn’t pay
to watch two fairies circling the maypole—Fight.”

No more milking the clock.

I drop my guard. He throws the quick left. I dodge
it. The crowd cheers. We circle again, and his right leg sweeps at
my feet. I jump back. I feel the buzz in my head. My muscles coil.
I find my groove and right jab a heavy body blow. He doubles,
winded, but recovers. His fist comes at me. I duck. Shit. If this
fight goes to decision, I’d win. I need to get hit.

I rush Del Toro and slam him against the fence,
holding him in a clinch. A barrage of punches hammer my back.

My leg snakes around one of his, keeping him off
balance. He attempts a knee to my thigh, but my hold locks him
down. He tries for a chokehold. I bury my shoulder deeper into his
chest. My body constricts around his. The clock ticks on.

“Break it up!” The ref pushes us apart.

Arms raised, I stand back. The ref waves his hand
between us. Fight’s back on.

Del Toro comes at me, head down, aiming for my gut.
His signature move. He’s going for the take down. The split second
before he hits, I check the clock. A minute and thirty-two seconds
left. His shoulder slams into my abdomen, taking us both down. I
land on my back, my lungs contracting for breath, and he straddles
my leg in half guard.

Shit. Not good.

He rears back for the ground-and-pound. I throw my
head to the side and cross my arms to protect my face. Blow after
blow pound against my forearms. Pain rockets through my body. The
buzz a steady hum in my head. Adrenaline shoots through my
veins.

With my free leg, I brace my foot against the mat.
The blows continue. Ringing in my ears, the buzz goes nuclear. I
need to get to my feet.

My heel digs deep. I thrust my hips, bucking Del
Toro off. I’ve got the mount. I pull back, landing a blow that
sends blood to the mat. My instincts want victory, to finish him
now, but reason stills my fist.

A horn sounds and the black-and-white striped shirt
of the ref is in my face.

Round one over.

I jump to my feet and head to my corner. My head
starts to clear. Shit, that was close. My cornermen shout orders at
me while I rinse my mouth out. Blake stands back, and my eyes meet
his. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. He knows what
happened. I came seconds away from flipping the switch. I nod. He
holds up one hand, all five fingers splayed. Five more minutes. I
need to hold it together for five more minutes. He drops his hand
and motions to the octagon.

Round two.

Del Toro’s bleeding. Fuck, I need to get hit more.
Concentrate on the end game. My girl.

In the stands, Raven covers her mouth. She looks
scared. Five more minutes, five more fucking minutes and she’s
mine.

“Round two,” the ref yells. “Fight.”

Focus. We move close, fists raised. Del Toro throws
a hard right. I don’t block it. It connects with my jaw. Lightning
shoots down my neck. The buzz in my head is now a battle cry. I’m
gonna kill this fucker.

I hit him with double strikes to his stomach. He
steps back, gasping for breath. He comes at me with a quick jab to
my ribs. Pain blasts through my side. I double over, but stay on my
feet.

We circle each other. He throws a left. I dodge it.
He’s open. One right hook would knock him out. I punch his ribs. He
stumbles. I’m dying to finish this. I could take him down right
now. Easily.

My eyes lock on his fists. He sweeps at my leg and
connects. Pain throbs in my calf. I hop to regain my balance.

I unleash my restraint, my right fist slamming into
his reddened ribs. He grunts and doubles over. My hands drop to my
sides with a satisfied smile. Fuck, that felt good. I lock eyes
with Raven. Hers widen, and flick past me. I spin. His right knee
flies up, I move back, but it’s too late.

Two-hundred-fifty-seven pounds of force slam into my
head.

Pain explodes at my ear. Bright white light flashes
behind my eyes. My vision recedes. I stagger. My body hums. My mind
empty, but for one thought.

Annihilate.

Del Toro steps into my space. I throw a right. My
haymaker connects with the sweet spot on his jaw. His mouth guard
flies in an explosion of blood and spit. He goes down.

Rag-dolled.

Game over.
Oh, fuck.

Raven

“Ladies and Gentlemen, your new UFL Heavyweight
Champion, Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade.” The announcer’s words
reverberate in my soul, raising the hair on my skin.

He won.

I drop to my seat as everyone around me stays
standing. The voices of the fans are slow and slur in my ears.
Their faces contort with the force of their excitement. I blink and
grip the sides of my chair.

He won.

Katherine leans down and hugs me. My body shakes as
she continues to jump up and down. She says something, but
submerged in my misery, I can’t understand her. I absently nod, my
focus distant, as I force my brain into action.

What do I do now?

I can’t think of anything. Except him. My body aches
for him, wanting to be held, to cry in the safety of his arms.
Together.

We can face anything as long as we’re together. It’s
not too late to run. I could go somewhere remote, live low for a
few years until Dominick loses interest. Tiny sparks of hope flare.
That’s what I’ll do. I need to get to Jonah and get out of town.
Now.

A jolt from my hip sends me to my feet. I press the
pocket of my shorts to feel it vibrate. My phone. Who would be
calling me now? I check the caller ID. New text from Guy? Guy
doesn’t text.

Hello, Darling. If you want to save his life, you’ll
follow Candy. Failure to comply will end him. Slowly. You have five
minutes. –D

He has Guy. Holy shit!

Dominick has him. That’s why he never showed. My
breath catches on a sob. I grip at my neck and swallow hard. He’ll
kill him if I don’t cooperate. I don’t have time to get to
Jonah.

“Four minutes and counting.” Candy grips my arm
firmly.

I glare at her hand. She’s in on this. Lying
bitch.

Katherine continues to cheer as she glories in her
son’s victory. Her love for her son shines in her radiant smile.
That same love that poured over onto me, even if only for a day.
And now it’s over.

Candy tugs my arm.

“Get your fucking hand off me!” My demand is firm,
but soft enough for only her to hear. “I’m coming.” I rip my arm
from her grip. “Just let me say good-bye.” I don’t give her an
opportunity to respond and turn to Katherine.

I let the love in her face reflect in mine and
muster a smile before leaning in to be heard over the crowd. “Candy
said Jonah wants me back in the dressing room. She has a pass so
she can take me back.” I lean back from her to look in her
face.

“Oh, of course, honey. You go congratulate our boy.
I’ll meet you guys at home.” The pride in her smile aches in my
chest.

I throw my arms around her neck and hug her
good-bye. “Thank you, Katherine, for everything.” My throat swells
as I muzzle the emotion that fights for release.

“Oh, well,” Katherine says, seeming surprised by my
sudden burst of affection. “Thank you for making my Joey so
happy.”

Released from the hug, her smile’s shadowed with
concern. I nod with forced confidence then face Candy.

“Okay. Take me back.”

My legs are heavy as I trail behind Candy up the
stairs. We pass through the double doors and into a long
hallway.

This is it. I’m being kidnapped. But my life is a
small price to pay to ensure Guy’s safety. Katherine and Jonah’s
safety. I should have known better than to fight destiny. Fight
Dominick.

We stop at a single door. Nausea claws at my
stomach. A rowdy group down the hall walks towards us. I wonder if
it’s Jonah and the guys headed back to their dressing room. If he
saw me with Candy, he’d never let me go. Panic surges in my veins.
If he sees me, Guy dies. I drop my gaze, my hair hiding my
face.

Two quick knocks and the lock clicks. Candy moves
forward and I follow through, head down.

Once in, I turn my focus to the room. The door slams
behind me, and I’m plunged into darkness.

I gasp. My hands reach out for something to hold
onto.

“Hello, darling.”

I whirl around toward the direction of the door. My
body slams against something solid. Arms wrap tightly around me. I
struggle against the hold. Deja vu stills my body and stifles my
scream. Why is this so familiar? Flashes from the night in the
parking lot of Club Six spark my memory.