by L. G. Kelso
Jab, cross, hook, hook fired off.
Curve more. I missed the hard body shot she threw, and something crunched in my torso. Ribs. She broke a rib. The initial flare off pain threw of my breathing. She threw another hook, but I rolled my shoulders under it and planted a hook near her liver. I didn't compress her liver enough, because she didn't fall down like I wanted.
She's too heavy on her back.
She came at me. I posted off her side, to my right, light on my toes, and kicked. Missed. She backed up.
Yes. Back up. Get her against the cage.
She went for a takedown, and she got me. I tried to stop her with my knee, but I was too late. I slapped the mat, barely, to help absorb some of the impact as my back slammed into it.
No, no, no. This was not the plan. Frustration filled me.
I saw the kick in her shoulder before her leg came at me.
Her legs wrapped around my right leg, and my foot smashed into her armpit. Her forearm had my heel.
Shit, shit, shit.
She went for a heel hook, the same one with which Lana tore my ACL.
I kicked her, but she blocked with her other arm.
This was not good.
Her body moved. I felt torque on my ankle as it twisted to the inside. The torsion raced up my leg, into my knee.
I couldn't move. I couldn't kick her.
Move, move, move.
I didn't want to hurt my knee again. Not again. I should have tapped when this had happened before, but I hadn't. I couldn't not tap again.
But if I tapped, it would be over. Just like that.
I kicked until I made contact, and her grip loosened enough for me to slide out. I jumped on her back, in north south position, so her head was under my stomach and wrapped my arms around her chest, under her armpits. She tried to grab for my leg, but I sprawled and pulled it out of her reach. I gripped her elbow and yanked, bending it under her, with my other hand on her side above her kidneys.
I tucked my head against her and rolled her over me, flipping her over onto her back so I could do the anaconda.
Angling my torso and body so her head pushed up against my stomach, I walked my toes, scooting my body around the side, pushing her head forward and down with my stomach while tightening the choke I had with my arms.
She fisted her hand, wrapped the other hand over it, and pushed with her elbow where I held, breaking my grip. She moved to her knees and rushed me as the ding ending the round sounded.
Sure, I had managed to stay conscious, but I definitely lost that round. I hadn't submitted her with the anaconda, and while I got a few striking points in, she got the takedown and strikes of her own. That left me with that much smaller room for error in the remaining rounds.
I went to my corner for the brief break. Max offered my water while Jeff talked. I wasn't moving. I was too heavy. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Things I knew.
"You got this," Max said.
I swear to God I heard Will laugh.
I bounced, trying to loosen up. My shoulders were tight.
"Relax. Remember why you do this. Forget everything else," Max said.
Round two started.
Tiffs went in for the takedown right away. I went down. Another point for her. Her knee slammed into my diaphragm as her weight dropped on me, forcing the air out of me. She made a move to get side control, but I corkscrewed out from under her.
Shit. I didn't get far enough, and she managed to get me in her guard. Her back was on the mat, and my butt on the ground, but her legs hooked around my waist. Her hand grabbed one of my wrist.
I pushed into her hip with one hand, shoved my other palm into and under her diaphragm, and moved my leg to escape, but she was quicker. She went for my elbow. I postured up and sent an elbow into her face.
I freaking blew it.
She grabbed my left arm and pulled me forward as she pivoted. Fight, push, but her leg looped over my neck. My torso pressed against her, and my right arm stretched across her chest, captive by her right hand. She pushed on my head. Her knee hooked over the top of her other ankle, and I could feel the stock be put in place. She pressed with her hips and her thighs to tighten the triangle choke.
The panic started then.
My left arm pressed into my neck, cutting off my blood supply. It wasn't the same choke Will had done, but some of the feelings were the same. Stuck. Pressure on the neck. Even though my trachea didn't take the brunt of the choke, it hadn't been right since that night and even this pressure made me choke and gasp.
I had seconds.
And I couldn't do anything. I was there, unable to move, unable to breath, struggling against Will. Stuck. I couldn't do anything. I couldn’t help myself.
My vision blurred as a foggy drowsiness took over.
Stuck. No air.
I only had seconds before I passed out. Don't tap.
I wanted to tap. To have the pressure release.
He wouldn't let go. I needed him to let go. He wasn't going to. He was going to hold it. Would I wake up? Or would it he hold it too long? Would this be it? It hurt. Why was he doing this? He wouldn’t stop.
I breathed in as much as I could as my vision tunneled, yellow and black spots filling in the edges.
And I smelled Tiffs. Not Will.
I wasn't there. I was here with Tiffs.
Here. Fight.
I could feel it. My hand wanted to tap as the blood to my brain lessened, but I couldn't let it.
Now, now, now.
The present came back to me. Jeff yelled about getting moving now, and Max said something about using it. I didn't have time to process the rest of what they said.
I reached around her leg with my free arm and gripped my hands together. I shoved the elbow of my right arm—the one that pressed against my neck—across her stomach, deep, and onto the mat next to her, creating space. Once I made a little bit of space, I shoved my hands down against her stomach as hard as I could while looking up, my tunnel vision widening a bit at the bright lights above me. I brought my knees against her butt, postured up, and tried to stand while still pushing on and against her.
Her hold loosened. I kept moving, pushing down and straightening up until I broke the hold entirely and rolled her over herself and escaped.
The bell dinged.
Round over.
I lost that one. I didn't tap, but I didn't score either.
The pressure went up.
Maybe it was the blood rushing back to my head, but the panic disappeared. I scanned the audience as I went to my corner. The pressure had turned my insides to burning coals, but the panic was gone.
I found Will and caught his eye.
I smiled.
I drank, Jeff gave me some more notes, and I was glad that I had noticed some of the same things. Shane and Max offered some advice that I planned to use if she took me down again.
Round three.
Tiff threw a double jab. She moved in. The cross was coming; I saw it in her core. I ate it, moved on, so she would throw an uppercut. I moved to the side as the uppercut came, and threw a hook to the side of her head. Even with the MMA gloves, the crack whipped through the silence. She wobbled.
She backed up, putting distance between us. I watched the torso. There was no sign of her coming forward. She was going to throw long-range punches or kicks.
Her Thai kick came at my ribs.
I eased to my side as I caught her leg with my left arm. She's mine. I spun backward, so my left and right arm switched places, but only for a moment as I turned, pivoting on the ball of my foot.
My left elbow slammed into her face.
She stumbled.
I rushed her with a flurry. Jab, jab, cross, hook to the body, hook to the head, backed up, cross.
She regained her balance. No longer was I thinking about Will and being afraid or wanting to show him he could go screw himself. I just wanted to fight.
I hadn't felt this alive in almost three years.
I threw a
Thai kick. This time she grabbed my leg. Her expression changed. She thought she got me.
I lunged forward, putting both my arms on the left side of her neck, and shoved down as I jumped—one leg still held by her—and kneed her in her solar plexus.
She dropped my leg.
She tried another kick—idiot—and this time I grabbed it, moved in, slipped my foot behind her heel and shoved with my shoulder. She went down. I made the move to score the takedown, but before she could get guard, I swept her and got back up.
I was over rolling for now.
I threw a double jab; the first one hit her. The second missed entirely, as planned, and as I threw it, I stepped to the side and forward. As soon as my arm moved back to base, I spun and planted my foot into her stomach with a hard kick.
She didn't tighten her muscles, and her breath pushed out of her lungs.
She was falling.
I threw a head kick. It made contact.
She slammed to the ground, unconscious.
There was no question for the judges.
I won.
Chapter Thirty-One
The ref raised my hand.
I rode the endorphins and did not intend to let them fade, even when I saw Max as he and Jeff and Shane entered the ring.
After a few more minutes of celebrating, we left the cage and headed toward the back fighters area. Jeff's eyes shined a little. He gave me a hard pat on the back, and then muttered that he needed the bathroom before leaving the room.
Shane gave me a hug.
Max did not.
"So," Max said. He brushed a hand through his cropped hair and then smashed it down. He had cut it recently, so his smashing did nothing to change how it looked. He already had his fight shorts on. There were at least two more fights before Max's fight.
"So."
"Good job. I knew you could do it," he said.
"It's because I work with the best."
"I'm surprised you didn't have Will in your corner." His tone didn't match the jab his words sent. In fact, he sounded curious and down at the same time. Unfortunately, his tone didn't make up for the words. Not when adrenaline still surged through my veins and my body still felt in go mode.
"Why the hell would I do that?"
Max shrugged.
"I'm not with Will, Max. I never was. And I sure as hell wouldn't have him in my corner. That spot was always yours."
"No, no, no. Shut up," Shane said. "You two will talk but not right now. Max, you've got two more fights before you're up. Focus."
"Right," Max said. "You still going to be in my corner?"
"You want me to?" I asked. Maybe it was still the adrenaline, but my skin flushed.
"You're the best kickboxer I know."
The door banged open, slamming into the wall.
Will stood in the doorway. By the red splotches on his face and his clutched fists, I assumed my winning had pissed him. Maybe this would work after all.
"This is our room, man," Shane said.
"I'll only be a minute," Will replied. He stalked over to me. "That win doesn't mean shit, Tori."
"Will you guys give us a minute?" I asked.
Shane tapped his phone and placed it on a chair before nodding. The phone flashed. "Max, let's go."
"I don't think it's a good idea," Max said. His arms folded tightly over his chest as he studied Will. "Someone looks a little pissed."
"It's fine. Please, Max."
I caught Shane's eyes and nodded. He pushed Max out of the room.
"What do you want, Will?"
"You better keep your damn mouth shut. Got it? Just leave it as is." Will kicked one of the chairs. It clattered to the ground.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"I won't go so easy on you. Won't stop the choke so early next time. I'll hold it."
"Like hell there will be a next time."
He took a step forward, and grabbed my wrist. His cheeks burned red, and the pulse on his temple throbbed. "Are you stupid? Didn't you figure out you shouldn't be here. Look what happened to you."
"You happened to me."
"No one is going to give a crap what you say. We were sparring. You got carried away."
"I got carried away?" I let him hold my wrist, even as the pressure tightened. "You're already telling everyone. So why are you so worried if I speak up? Is it because you know you really did cross a line?"
"You walked into that ring with me. You knew what could happen."
"Stay out of my gym, Will, and let go of my wrist."
"The minute you start talking, I'll shut you down," he snarled. His hand tightened. I held in my grimace.
"I think you just threatened me, Will Bennet."
His eyes flashed and he shoved me.
My ease started to fade.
Part of me wanted him to go off. The other part really didn't.
"I'm not stupid, Tori. I know that if I touch you here I'll get disqualified."
I needed more. Just a little more. "You've already turned everyone against me, why freak out now? Because the police report? You know that if that gets out, people will start to wonder what exactly happened."
"I won't stop next time. I let you go last time. I won't make that mistake again."
"You let me go after I was unconscious. Why didn't you let go when I tapped?"
Come on, Will, just acknowledge it.
"I could have held it longer."
"And killed me?" He kicked the already upturned chair into the wall.
Feet scuffled outside the door and Max entered a second later, and snapped, "What the hell is going on?"
Will kept hold of my wrist.
"I'm sorry, Tor. He heard the noise…" Shane said, appearing in the doorway.
Will chuckled and I could practically see the lightbulb over his head. He always got the same look on his face whenever his two brain cells decided to work.
"Didn’t you hear?" Will directed to Max.
"Don't let him get disqualified, Shane," I said. Shane's hand went to Max's shoulder, but Max shrugged him off.
"What are you talking about? Let go of her arm, Will," Max answered.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Will," I warned. I yanked my hand, but he kept the hold. If I hit him, as a part of Max's fight corner, I would get Max disqualified.
Will chuckled again, but it was heavy and forced. His thumb twitched against my wrist.
"You're scared," I said. "You're scared of Max."
"Don't be such a bitch, Tori," Will snarled.
"Stay there, Max. Don't get involved. It's exactly what Will wants."
Max stayed put, but I could hear the growl caught in his throat.
"What did you hear, Max? Did you hear me talk about choking Tori out? Have you heard the interviews? Maybe I did lie just a little bit. Maybe she did tap. But she obviously needed me to prove myself to her. She needed to figure out she didn't belong there."
Will squeezed, and I let a sharp breath out. When I looked at Max, his eyes zoned in on Will's tight fingers. Shit.
"Shane!"
Shane rushed and I moved in front of Will as Max lunged. Max bumped into me, and Will let go of my wrist as Shane's arms wrapped around Max and hauled him back.
"I look forward to our fight, Max," Will said. "You know, I watched your first fight. You sucked, man. I had heard through the grapevine you're not a good angry fighter, and I believe it."
"Max, it's not worth it." I shoved both my palms against Max's chest. His chest shook against my hand. "Stop. You hit him now and you'll get disqualified. He's scared, Max, and he doesn't want to fight you. Don't give him what he wants."
"You should have seen her face, Max. She wasn't expecting it. She thought she could take me. She was so cocky, and she nailed me good. In front of the boys." His profile appeared in my periphery.
"Get out, Will," I snapped. "He wants you to hit him. Don't. Got it. Keep your shit together. And Will, get out now or I'll call
the STRIKERS refs in here."
I hated hearing the smile in his voice when he said, "Whatever. We'll see you out there, Max. Look forward to pounding your ass."
Will stepped around me and whistled as he left the room. Even after the door shut, Max's chest stayed tight and trembling beneath my palm. His chest raised in quick, shallow breaths as heat poured into my hand. His teeth ground and his eyes had darkened to black pools.
"You need to do some work. Come on. Shane, you want to grab the mitts?"
A zipper opened.
"Max," I repeated. Finally, his eyes focused on me.
Shit. I got what I needed, but it wasn't worth the price of Max losing his fight if he couldn't get his head cleared.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait until after the fight. So that this wouldn't happen."
"It's a little late for that." I knew the growl in his voice wasn't meant for me. I shoved harder on his chest with one hand and grabbed his hand with my other.
"We were training partners. We were sparring, and I was a little full of myself. I did well. In front of the team and 'his guys.' After, we decided to stay and work more, like usual. He snapped. He just went crazy, and beat me up. He ended up choking me with that choke he does. Luckily, Jeff came back to the gym and found me."
Crimson heat swarmed through Max's golden skin, and his chest shook more. His breath came out in quick, shallow rasps.
"The Bennet choke?"
I nodded.
"Why did you have us leave you two alone? I mean, I know you can handle yourself. I know. But, he's a big guy and he's pissed." His cheeks stained crimson as anger sharpened each of his words.
"The phone." I scurried to the phone resting on the chair. The green light still flashed. Phew. I picked the phone up. Recording still in process.
"Because I need extra security Will won't come around the gym again."
Jeff walked in. His eyes flitted between the three of us and he groaned. "Will got to him, didn't he?"
"Yup. But he's not going to let him get to him anymore, right, Max?"
"I'm going to beat the shit out of him."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Max was first to enter the ring. His rage was palpable, and Shane's and my nerves were bordering on tangible. While Max had speed and power, much of his success was from his ability to think through fights.
