by Molly McLain
I wonder if Chyna knows this time. When he first bought their house he had a baby room designed and filled it to the brim with baby supplies. I figured Chy would run for the hills, but I think it made her love him a little bit more. Jace is a good guy. He’s not Gavin, but he fills the best friend spot nicely.
A shadow falls over me, blocking out the overhead lights and I swear Jace growls next to me. My gaze snaps up, discovering that the shadow is the Bone Crusher and his walk-out crew. They look like a group of thugs. More like wannabe gang bangers than his coach and younger brother. I know exactly who they all are; I did my homework on them. In fights like this, you can never be too careful, and it’s always good to know not only the opponent but his trainers, partners, friends, family, etc. Gavin taught me that before he’d let me anywhere near his fighting side.
I’m not supposed to speak to him. Gavin warned me to never talk to his opponents, or they may say something ugly. I have enough respect for my man to heed his warning, so I remain silent.
Mere seconds pass of us staring at each other and then Bone Crusher spits at my feet, grunting like I’m in his way. I’m nowhere near him, though; he has plenty of feet in front of me to get by.
I don’t even know what happened; next thing I know, my shoulder’s aching from Jace damn near flying over me to get to this guy. Shouting and chaos break out as Jace and Bone Crusher try to land hits on each other.
An animalistic noise comes from the cage, causing me to glance over and find Gavin climbing the wall of the octagon. With one leg over the top, he drops like fucking Spiderman or something and charges straight for us.
This is bad. This is so bad right now.
It feels like I’m trapped in a tunnel as security fights off fans that are attempting to charge over the barrier fence separating us from them so they can join in on the growing fight. At this point, everyone directly around us has either scurried out of the guy’s way, or they’re trying to pull someone off, so it stays semi-fair.
Gavin’s able to get close enough to throw a swing and then we’re surrounded by big, tatted up Russians in suits creating a durable barrier between Gavin, Jace, and the Bone Crusher’s crew. They were sitting directly behind me, and I didn’t even pay attention.
It’s the motherfucking mafia.
Tate, Viktor, Nikoli, Alexei, and Spartak to be exact and boy do they not appear to be amused in the slightest. They’re also Gavin and Jace’s main sponsor, so I’m guessing they’re protecting their investments right now.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be around mobsters before.
Despite their unsavory backgrounds, Tate and Viktor have always been pleasant to us. They’ve taken us out for dinner several times to discuss business and had gifts delivered to the house. The other guys are their guards, and with the way they easily manhandled these assholes, I’d say they know their stuff.
The main event hasn’t even begun, and shit’s already crazy. Is the fight going to happen now? If the UFC suspends Gavin over this scuffle, I swear to God they’ll hate me. I’ll call every damn news reporter I can find to tell them my side of the story as soon as possible if I have to. It’ll be a huge mess, and while the UFC loves drama with fighters, not siding with a fighter’s girlfriend will make them look like a giant bag of dicks.
The music comes to a halt shifting majority of the attention off the three fighters currently trying to murder each other and onto the platform set up for the bands. The overhead system sounds off with the announcer demanding everyone to take their seats, or the event will be canceled without any refunds.
The fans around us boo but end up chilling out; after all, money talks in the end. There are the few random guys still trying to start fights being dragged away by security, but overall, it’s calmed down. Gavin would be a wreck right now over all this, but he’s too pissed, busy concentrating on wanting to murder Bone Crusher to notice what just went down with the crowd.
JT, the head honcho of the UFC, approaches us appearing so pissed off that he’s ready to pop a gasket. I’m over to the side, but still close enough to see and hear everything.
“This was perfect, gentlemen; it’ll be a fight to remember.” He comes off so it looks like he’s angry at the fighters to the overall crowd, but he’s happy about this chaos. What a tool!
Ignoring the man in charge, Bone Crusher glares at Gav, threatening him, “I’ll keep the belt and take your little puta.” He spits again, and I swear to God, something breaks inside Gavin. I’ve never seen him so furious before.
He surprises me when, instead of murdering the asshat, he takes off for the cage. My Sugar’s on a mission and the Bone Crusher just secured a spot in the hospital.
Bone Crusher rushes after Gavin creating a huge spectacle as he stomps up the stairs into the cage. I think Gav was expecting it because he turns around right before Bone Crusher throws another jab.
The ref, Dan, rushes to get between them. He’s a big man himself, sporting long black dreads. Holding his hands out between them, he announces, “One point on Bone Crusher. Let’s keep it clean, gentlemen!”
Dan taking away a point from Bone Crusher’s scorecard already, has me liking him as our ref. Some refs conveniently miss stuff and people get hurt because of it; this guy seems to be on his game.
The announcer quickly fumbles out his spiel on the general rules so the fighters can get to it. Dan stays between them the entire time, watching them both like a hawk in case they try again to go at each other too soon.
This has turned into a shit show, with two pissed off Alphas ready to do damage. That’s not even accounting for Jace, who’s currently panting with anger beside me or all the beefed-up mobsters ready to hurt someone at the drop of a hat.
Jace pulls me down into the seat next to him; I hadn’t realized I was still standing. Viktor and Tate, along with their guys, take their seats behind me again just as the announcer rumbles out, “Leeet’s fight!”
Dan backs away quickly. Bone Crusher charges without tapping gloves prior—a show of mutual respect in the sport. Gavin reads it immediately, bobbing out of the way to the left and swiping his opponent with a hard thigh kick.
At contact I jump up, cheering him on. The quicker he can end this, the better. We have five sets of five minutes each. A total of twenty-five minutes of fight time since he’s the main event and it’s going to be the longest half hour of my life.
“Come on, baby!” I cheer.
It’s like my shout triggers a switch and the chants start again. This time it’s “Ripper! Ripper!” coming from his fans. Gavin needs this; he needs to feel how much support he has. The fans are with him tonight and even more so after the prefight bullshit.
Bone Crusher comes at him with a combination of jabs, left right left, but once again Gav bobs to the side, counteracting with a hard right.
It stuns jackass enough to make him blink, and I think he really sees Gavin for the first time. This isn’t another weakling full of fat like he’s used to playing with. This is pure competition, and he’s on Gav’s playground.
They hop around the cage, concentrating, trying to pace each other. It feels like they do this forever. Whichever one of them picks up the other’s pace the fastest will most likely be the one to make good contact. It’s all about rhythm and timing, and it must be perfect to get the right hit.
Bone Crusher paces Gavin’s pattern first, and sure enough, he strikes him with a powerful inside thigh kick. He didn’t know that Gavin was waiting for it though and Gav gets off another right jab. Bone Crushers eyebrow splits on contact making the crowd roar in triumph as blood trickles down his cheek.
“Breathe, breathe, breathe.” I chant quietly to myself. If I don’t say it out loud, I may hold my breath until I pass out.
Jace chuckles beside me for the first time since we arrived. “Relax, Aria; no puking, okay? Ripper knows what he’s doing.”
I can only nod in return. I haven’t puked at a fight in over a year, but he’s right, t
onight I may break that streak.
The bell dings at the end of the first round, and I fall into my seat exhausted. I’m not the one fighting, yet a large portion of the energy and adrenaline I had has already escaped me.
Each guy in the cage goes to their respective corner, and Jace sprints over to Gavin’s side, no doubt giving him some advice or encouragement. I’m left to stare at my love sitting quietly on the small stool while he listens to Sin and gets cleaned up. He’s not bleeding but he’s a sweaty mess, and some of Bone Crusher’s blood is on his right hand.
Is it wrong that I’m enjoying the fact that my boyfriend has been the one to draw blood first? It’s a sign of what’s about to happen. Gavin’s doing what he always does. Even though he’s wound up and angry, he’s still taking his time and fighting smart. I’m so damn proud of him.
In no time the fighters are back on their feet, murder in their eyes. They trade hits and kicks for two more rounds until finally, Bone Crusher starts to get worn down. It takes one slip of his left foot and Gav has him on the ground, pounding away at his face. He goes to town on the Bone Crusher, straight ground and pound—Gavin’s favorite.
People started calling him ‘Ripper’ for a reason. You see when Gav gets you on the ground like he has Bone Crusher now, his fists are lethal. He rips through the skin like he’s cutting up a juicy steak. By the time the ref can get him pulled off of you, you’re toast. In the Bone Crusher’s case, he’s about to be on his way to the hospital.
Never disrespect Gavin’s mother or girlfriend, because he always comes to collect on it.
The Russians behind me cheer as the announcer calls the fight. Immediately I’m screaming, so happy that it’s over and Gavin’s okay. He’s more than okay. He’s won! He’s the new UFC heavyweight champion of the world.
His status just went up about ten notches from regular badass. I thought I was proud before, but this takes the cake. He’s so strong and disciplined; he deserves this.
I wish his brother would’ve shown up to show his support. They used to be extremely close, but the rift between them has only grown larger with time. I don’t think they’ll ever get back to where they were before Gav and I got together.
His dad is supposed to be here somewhere. He left a message saying his flight was delayed and he’d try to sit with Jace and me, but not to worry if he couldn’t make it to our seating area. I hope he missed the skirmish in the beginning. He has a lot of respect for his son and the way he’s taken this sport by storm, I’d hate to see any of it waver because the Bone Crusher decided to be an assface.
“He did it!” Jace yells beside me, wearing a big smile.
“I know! I can’t believe it!”
“Let’s get out of here before it gets bad with everyone trying to leave. It’s pretty early; I bet everyone’s gonna want to go party.”
“We can’t just leave while Gav’s still in the cage; I want to go see him.” My eyes fall on my man who currently has his arms raised in the air being named champion.
“I already spoke to him and Sin about it. The doc’s going to look him over quickly; then he has to get to the Gala.”
“I thought it was just a dinner at the Gala, though.”
“No.” His icy blue eyes grow wide. “It’s so much more, and he’ll be getting awards, I’m sure of it.”
It must be a really big deal if they already have a plan in the works. It’s exciting to know that Gavin will be getting some awards also. I’ll proudly put them on our shelves in the living room so everyone can see them when they visit.
“I wanted to be up there celebrating with him, but if you say we need to go, then let’s move it before we’re bum rushed by everyone.”
Jace grabs my hand and tucks it into the crook of his arm to lead us out. These guys are awesome when it comes to being southern gentlemen. You realize how spoiled you are when you meet an asshole who doesn’t know how to hold the door open for someone.
He nods at Sin as we head toward the walkout tunnel and I wave like a nut job just in case my Sugar glances over.
“You need to change.”
“Excuse me?” No one said a damn thing about a wardrobe change.
“For dinner, you need to be in something more formal. There will be a lot of photos tonight, and they’ll appreciate you wearing a more formal gown to dinner.”
“Who’s they?”
“The UFC and MGM. Like it or not, you two pretty much represent them tonight.”
Huffing, from irritation and the trek to the tunnel, I grumble, “And where’s this new wardrobe change supposed to magically happen?”
“There should be a box waiting for you in the limo.”
“I have to change in the car? Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it was to get in this dress? Now I have to figure a way out of it and into God knows what, in that small space?”
“Believe me, I know; I heard all about it when they pulled the same thing with Chyna.”
If it’s as tight as this thing, I may end up looking more like a damn dying fish, squirming around on the floor off the limo. Gav would get a kick out of it.
Once we reach a small door off to the side that we were promised would let us escape quietly, three big men in black outfits clad with ‘SECURITY’ on the front and back of their shirts silently open the door for us. They follow us outside, and I don’t know if I should be grateful or creeped the hell out.
They could at least mumble hello instead of escorting us outside like we’re about to be shoved into a sketchy van and promised candy if we keep quiet. They’re with us to make sure no one tries to kidnap us or give us problems, but a friendly wave or something wouldn’t hurt them.
You think Las Vegas and picture warmth. You’re wrong. It’s January in the desert and nighttime. It was nice earlier, but now that it’s dark, the desert chill has set in. Maybe it’s good that I’m not wearing this mini dress later because it’s freaking freezing.
Our limo’s there waiting patiently, and like the gentleman he is, Jace opens the back door and peeks his head inside to make sure it’s safe.
“All right, this is your stop.”
“You’re not coming?”
“Your boyfriend wants me in a separate car.”
“That’s crazy, we can all ride together, just let me change real quick, and you can get in.”
“No, he really wants to be alone with you.”
“So maybe I should wait to change then?”
“That’s probably a good idea.” He chuckles and my cheeks heat up.
“Okay then, see you at dinner.”
“Later.” He winks and closes the door once I’ve slid onto the super soft leather seat.
Out of habit, I immediately reach over and lock the door. Better safe than sorry. Jace’s wife was attacked while trying to unlock a front door, and ever since then I’ve had an unhealthy obsession worrying about it. Not with Gavin around, of course; but alone, I always try to think of safety.
“Now let’s see what they have for me this time,” I say out loud to myself, immediately spotting the white garment box. It stands out like a splash of color against the all black interior of the limo.
“Of course,” I mumble and shake my head. It’s a freaking replica of what I have on already, only this one looks floor length with a giant slit up the side. What is it with these people and fake diamonds?
The partition window’s up leaving me with no one to talk to, so I do the next best thing and raid the mini fridge. Whoever oversaw stocking it did a pretty decent job with cheeses, wine, bottled water, and a few sodas.
Chapter 3
I don’t know how much time passes by thanks to some little bottles of Malibu rum I found stashed in the limo’s mini bar. All I know is that I drank six of them and braved one filled with Patrón. It damn sure warmed me up inside and helped pass some time. Whoever stocked the mini fridge did just as awesome of a job on the mini bar. This limo has everything it seems; the UFC spoiled us with this little perk.
>
Gav finally makes it to the car to discover me happily buzzed and in my bra and panties. With the busy day we had, mixed with alcohol and feeling warm and relaxed, it’s amazing I didn’t just pass out.
“Hey, Boo.” The rich timbre of his voice comes out so smooth; I swear it caresses my entire body as he climbs into the back. A pocket of chilly air sneaks inside with him, causing my skin to light up with a fresh set of goosebumps.
“You cold, baby?” he asks, seeing me shiver with the cold chill.
“A little. Maybe I should have another drink?”
“Later. How about you come over here and let me warm you up.”
Sliding closer, he pulls me into his embrace. It’s icy at first until I make contact with his chest, then it’s like my own personal heated blanket. Gavin’s always warm; I like to tease him in the winter that he got lucky with a built-in heater. Each time he responds by telling me that he’s only lucky because it means he gets to warm me up.
I know it’s mushy, but Gav is romantic like that when he wants to be, and I love it.
With one arm wrapped around my shoulders, holding me to him, he reaches over to rub my thigh with his other hand. It takes all of two seconds for his attention to shift to the tiny scrap of panties I’m wearing.
The skin on his palm is rougher than mine, callused and strong from all the training and lifting weights. Each time he caresses my hip, I can feel the roughness his hand wraps have left behind from making little indentions a million times over. There’s nothing soft about him, besides the way he treats me sometimes.
“Were you waiting for me like this the entire time?” His gaze shoots to my cream colored lacy bra as his hand plays with the thin piece of ribbon that’s keeping my panties tied at my hip. With the liquor rushing through my blood and the adrenaline rush earlier, I sure wouldn’t mind it if those fingers found their way inside me right now.
Gavin…
