The Fight

by Alice Ward

  That had been a pretty tense time, but I convinced Hunter it was time to step out on our own. He was skeptical at first, but the excitement of being out from under his father’s lead had sealed the deal. We opened our business at the age of twenty-seven, and after six years hadn’t looked back. With plenty of hard work and a whole lot of proving ourselves, we were now one of the top research and development companies in the U.S.

  “Just some new accountants who got a bit big for their britches and thought they could power play me.”

  Hunter gave an exaggerated wince before snorting out a laugh. “I’m guessing they learned their lesson.”

  “They always do.” I leaned back in my chair and reached for the drawer where I hid my gin.

  “Wow, hitting the sauce already?”

  “It’s been that kind of day.”

  “Apparently. I’ll join you. It is Friday, and not morning anymore.” He shrugged and crossed over to the side table where I kept my highball glasses and an alabaster ice bucket. I met him there. “But hey, I think I know exactly what would cheer you up.”

  I groaned. “For the last time, I don’t care how great you think a certain sex club is, I’m not interested.”

  He snorted. “No, not that. I haven’t recommended a sex club since the year we graduated.” He handed me a glass, and I poured a finger of gin for us both. “I’m talking about a fun little fight where we can have some drinks and blow a couple thousand on people who are bleeding for our own entertainment.”

  “What? Is there some sort of boxing match at the stadium I don’t know about?”

  “Not quite.”

  I raised one eyebrow and downed my drink. “By all means then, call a driver. I’m game for a little visceral entertainment.”

  “Great, I’ll make the arrangements now. It’s supposed to be at nine tonight. Want to catch some dinner first?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a spot at that new sushi place.”

  “Right-o. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”

  ***

  I watched the city whip by as the driver took us to wherever the hell Hunter had in mind. Normally, I liked to do my own navigating, but I was enjoying the buzz of the gin, and if there was one line I would never cross, it was driving drunk. Not after the accident Hunter and I had when we were young and stupid.

  We passed 400 West Market, the skyscraper Hunter and I now owned, admiring the lit dome at the top. It wasn’t long before we were in a part of the city that I didn’t normally visit. One where people’s net worth was less than the suit I was wearing, and they had to worry about making it just day-to-day. Not that I thought I was better than them. Not by far. I just happened to have been lucky enough to be born into wealth and given a passion that I knew how to use to my advantage. But still, I knew better than to make myself — hell, either of us — a target in such an impoverished area, and I began to wonder if Hunter knew exactly what he was doing.

  That doubt grew when we arrived at the back of a run-down Japanese restaurant.

  I looked at Hunter suspiciously, but he was grinning like a maniac as he hopped out of the car. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

  “For this to make sense,” I shot back, exiting after him, bracing myself against the icy wind.

  “Have faith, my old friend. I promise this isn’t one of my schemes. You’re gonna love it — better than the horse races.”

  I scowled. “The horse races aren’t that great. A bunch of animals running in circles with no free will.”

  “Exactly! Like I said, this is better.” Hunter looked at the driver. “Come back around midnight. We’ll pay you overtime for being on call.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The car rumbled off, leaving the two of us standing on the dirty sidewalk in the cold January wind, trash littering the edge of the curb.

  Small groups of people converged around us, passing by casually to disappear into the basement of the restaurant. Against my better judgment, I followed Hunter when he joined them, curiosity pulling me like a string. I needed to know what the hell was going on.

  I paused in the dark, wondering what Hunter was getting us into as he trotted down the stairs like he was familiar with them. Sighing, I stayed on his heels.

  The inside was better because it was too dark to see, the only illumination coming from the flashlight apps on people’s cellphones. I switched mine on to discover the floor was cracked and sloping. The ceiling was partially collapsed in on itself in one corner of the basement, and I was pretty sure a homeless person was sleeping in a little cubby on the other side of the space.

  I paused, but Hunter stepped into a tunnel, and I tore my eyes from the figure and followed a small crowd in the claustrophobic space.

  I had to duck my head slightly to keep from hitting it on the concrete. “I’ve heard about these tunnels under the city but didn’t really pay any attention.”

  Hunter flashed me a smile. “They’re everywhere and have a lot of history. Mobsters used them, illegal things were passed through them. People think they’re just sitting empty and unused, but they’re not. I’m sure one leads to our building too.”

  I’d never considered that possibility and made a mental note to check into it. Could be a security breach.

  The passage seemed to go on and on. Lanterns were hung on the walls every few yards, the debris and grit swept to the sides, making a clear path. And then, finally, we were out of the tunnel and in what looked like the basement level of a former parking garage that had been clearly styled for a fighting arena.

  There were bleacherlike seats everywhere, and even a sort of concession stand, and what looked like a betting area. Next to that was a scoreboard that could very well have been stolen from a local high school, and enough lights strung from the ceiling for a theatrical production. In the center of it all stood an actual cage.

  I scanned its dimensions with the eye of an expert boxer. I owned a gym that was somewhere in the middle of rough and posh and had experience in the ring. But a cage? This was gritty. It was about two humans high and as wide as a fighting ring would be, with only a thin mat inside.

  “Hunter,” I asked slowly. “Did you bring me to an underground, illegal cage match?”

  He looked pleased with himself. “You bet your ass I did.”

  I let out a whistle and then laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You were right. I’m going to enjoy this.” I was about to start salivating at just the sight of the cage. Boxing and any kind of fighting was in my blood, trickling down from generations of college boxers. In my serious boxing days, I would have paid someone to let me fight in a place like this. It was the ultimate gritty fight atmosphere.

  “I told ya so. How about we go grab a couple of beers and see what kind of odds they’re running here?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  I followed him through the crowd, mostly men but some women, wives or girlfriends, and even a few kids. At the small stand, sure enough, there were kegs of cheap beer along with hot dogs, popcorn, and… was that cotton candy?

  Hunter ordered a couple of pints and some popcorn, then we went right to the bookie stand. They had six portfolios laid out, which meant there were three fights tonight. Looking them over, I saw that the first set was fairly even, with forty-five to fifty odds, both being male bantamweights, which was between 112 and 118 pounds. Interesting.

  “I’ll do a thousand on McCallum,” I said after randomly choosing one of the boxers, addressing the older, grizzled man behind the stand.

  “We only take cash here,” the man said passively, his expression unchanging.

  “That’s fine.”

  “ID please.”

  I gave him a look, but he never wavered, so I just shrugged and handed it over. He picked up a clipboard and wrote something down.

  “I’ll do a grand on Murphy,” Hunter said, tapping a portfolio card.

  I cracked a grin at that. “You just have to bet against me, don’t you?”

  “Hey,
maybe this will be the one thing I’m better at than you.”

  “Unlikely.” Hunter could beat me at almost anything, but that was because I had a singular focus most days. I looked to the second matchup. One fighter was a lithe black man who looked like he had an intense range, while the other was a much shorter but well-muscled fighter. “I’ll do another grand on Patterson.”

  “And I’ll do a grand on Majyklvitch,” Hunter countered right after me.

  “Of course you will. You’re going to be sorry about that one.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, we’ll just have to see.”

  And then it was on to the final fight, which was always the showcase. The star attraction. I was expecting two beefy, brawly dudes that were more meat than human. One of them fit that description. Andrew the Giant, standing at six-six and with biceps the size of my head, his skull looked more like a refrigerator than an actual part of human anatomy, and there was a solidly dead look to eyes that hid under heavy brows.

  My jaw dropped open when my eyes went to the photo of his opponent. Instead of some hulking male, there was a woman who reminded me of the actress in the Wonder Woman movie. Her stats listed her at right around six feet, and while she looked both muscled and curvy, she had nothing on her larger opponent.

  She had a decidedly exotic look to her, with long dark brown hair and startling green-hazel eyes. Her full, luscious red lips were made fuller by the mouth guard protecting her teeth, but it didn’t take away from her beauty.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked, barely holding back a snort. “You’re putting this little girl up against a literal giant?”

  “Cherry Bomb has been put in the running with the highest confidence,” the attendant said, face still completely impassive. Clearly, he had been chosen as a recorder for a reason.

  “Cherry Bomb?” I shook my head, incredulous. “Her name is Cherry Bomb?”

  His eyes flicked to me. “She’s known for her explosive style of fighting… and her temper.” More monotone.

  “Yeah. Well, her temper isn’t going to defy the rules of nature. I’ll put three grand on the giant.”

  “And I’ll match that on Cherry.”

  I shook my head and glanced at my best friend. “You’re going to regret that.”

  “Like I said before, we’ll see exactly what’s what. Besides, you see that look in her eyes? She’s got some fire there.”

  I glanced at the picture again, looking more closely at her face. Just like before, the first thing I noticed was how stunning she was. Her graceful features blended perfectly, making her face seem like it had been sculpted, her nose in perfect proportion to her rounded face and large eyes. There was a certain defiance to her glare, a sort of mess with me if you dare expression that no doubt did her well in the ring.

  For the tiniest of moments, I wondered if I was making the wrong choice. But no. There was no way that little thing could take on someone so far outside of her weight class. So, I stuck to my guns, grabbed my cheap beer from Hunter, and took a seat, shrugging out of my coat in the overly warm space.

  The event started late, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind. Bored after people watching for a bit, I pulled out my phone so I could check my emails and make sure I hadn’t missed anything after I left the office. No service. Yeah, because I was in a concrete enclave. I sighed and sipped my beer. I knew I couldn’t work all the time, needed to relax, but it was so hard to take my hands off the reins for even an evening.

  “Welcome to the Jungle” abruptly started playing and the crowd screamed in unison, filling the space with their adrenaline. It made my heart pump faster as the first opponents entered the cage.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t very good. From the bell, I could see why they started with these two. They had very little technique, and their styles seemed to be to try to bludgeon their opponent into the great beyond. There were no holds, no takedowns, just punch after punch. I found myself relieved when it was finally over.

  “Dammit,” Hunter growled when Murphy went down. “Lucky start.”

  “There’s nothing lucky about it,” I said with an unabashed smirk. “You know better than to bet against me on a fight.”

  Hunter punched my arm, shaking his head. “Cheeky.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but “I Like To Move It” blasted from the speakers and the second fight began.

  It went much better than the previous, with Patterson able to keep his opponent at bay with his long limbs. The shorter fighter barely got a single move in, and the whole thing seemed kind of inevitable.

  Sure enough, Patterson won, and Hunter was looking even more frustrated. As good natured as he was, I could tell that he really wanted to win one of the rounds. He just didn’t have the same wealth of knowledge that I did about boxing.

  I wasn’t some MMA expert, but my gym was very popular with the boxing crowds and drew MMA fighters, which meant I got to chat and train with them all the time. I’d picked up things here and there about the MMA until I was pretty knowledgeable about the opponents and the possible outcomes.

  Finally, it was the grand finale. “I Get Knocked Down” pumped up the crowd and my stomach clenched as a tall, striking woman dressed in steampunk made her way down the walk. The dynamic of the crowd changed drastically — the women really went wild for her. There were more screeches and shouts for her than there had been for the other fighters. If she already had a following this strong, maybe it wasn’t so crazy that the organizer would save her for his main event.

  But still, a high following didn’t mean anything if she couldn’t back it up. And I couldn’t see how she would against Andrew. I leaned forward, eager to see what she would do once the fight started, and not sorry to have my eyes on her curves.

  By the time the fighters were in position, the tension in the space was thick. The bell rang, and she turned into a blur of motion. She started out with a kick to the Giant’s kneecap, followed by more kicks I could barely keep up with. She threw a punch to his solar plexus, then a headbutt. She was dominating the ring with a fire I had never seen before — relentless and unconstrained.

  My jaw fell open as she pinned Andrew to the metal cage. Slick with sweat, she looked like a warrior goddess in the flesh, eyes flashing. When her massive opponent did finally manage to get a good hit in on her, pivoted her around and pinned her face-first to the metal grating of the chain-link, I flew out of my seat. The crowd went wild, and it seemed to fuel her. She hooked her hands into the little diamonds and hauled herself up, climbing the fence and flipping backward.

  Her feet landed on Andrew’s shoulders, and she dropped into a choke hold with both of her muscular thighs wrapped around his neck. I briefly thought that I wouldn’t mind being between those strong legs, but I pushed that out of my head and focused on what was surely going to be her victory.

  Andrew fought. Oh, boy, did he fight, but Cherry didn’t let go. She snarled, letting out a battle cry that sent reverberations down to my cock, and I swore I had never seen a woman more breathlessly sexy.

  But a man could only go so long without oxygen, and soon, the Giant collapsed to his knees, his hand coming up to tap three times on her calf. She instantly let go, falling down to the mat and landing in a crouch.

  The crowd was cheering and screaming like they had just seen Jesus himself touch down. Hunter was included in that furor, whooping and hollering and otherwise trying to rub his win in my face.

  But I hardly paid attention. My eyes were glued to the woman as the ref held her hand up in victory. I knew that without a doubt that I absolutely needed to meet this woman as much as I needed to draw my next breath.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cherry

  My chest and throat were tight as I fought for oxygen, and it took everything in me not to fall to my knees and cry right here in the ring. I had done it!

  I actually beat Andrew the Giant!

  A quick glance at the crowd told me that almost everyone was on their feet and cheering. Just outside the chain-link
, Hawk was practically breakdancing with joy. I couldn’t believe it. Word of this was going to go through the fight community until I would have gigs out the wazoo. It didn’t matter if Sage needed a shitload of college school books or if eight-year-old Clementine already needed braces on her teeth. I would be making so much money that my mom might finally be able to retire or at least find a job she enjoyed rather than clean hospital floors twelve hours a day.

  I was on a cloud as I exited the ring, flocked by security while we cut through the crowd. For once, I was grateful for them as I ducked into my little room that was set apart by a few black curtains and a single cement wall. I was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed, and I wasn’t sure I could handle dealing with dozens of fans at the moment.

  I only had about two minutes alone before Hawk scratched on the curtain. “Knock knock! How’s the conquering hero?”

  “Ecstatic,” I breathed, heart still hammering. “And decent, so you can come in.”

  “Excellent.” Hawk pulled aside the curtain, and I turned to face him. But the rail of a man wasn’t alone, and all of a sudden, my entire world halted. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend. Apparently, he was impressed by your performance out there.”

  I couldn’t speak, just stared with wide eyes at the man standing beside my manager. He was tall, obviously over six foot, and had thick, luscious blond hair that was impeccably groomed to go along with his impeccable suit, which fit his impeccable body like a glove. A wool coat that looked more expensive than most people’s cars was tossed casually over his arm.

  I had seen plenty of pretty men in my time, but there was something different about this man. His features were strong yet striking, refined, like they were carved out of marble by an ancient sculptor who had been trying to recreate Apollo himself.

  A million different greetings rushed through my head, but I decided it would be wise to stay silent. Mama always said that evil often came in the prettiest packages, and I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself on the greatest night of my life.