by Jayne Blue
Mace had been headed to the airport in some desperate attempt to fly home. But he knew that was foolish his parents were fine, Jacque would be sure of it.
He didn’t know where he would go now. He just knew he had to get as far away from Raleigh and the GWG Grand City as possible.
He had indulged himself here. He’d gotten drunk on Raleigh and had the hubris to think he could skirt on the outside of the MMA world. That was a lie he’d been telling to himself.
Raleigh
Mr. Dubroff was punctual. Raleigh greeted her client with a smile and her new improved coffee making skills.
“I’ve recently learned nuking coffee does not yield the best result.” She offered Dubroff a seat at her kitchen table. As he closed the door behind him.
“Thank you, Miss Gibson. I appreciate the offer, but I am in a bit of a hurry.”
“Oh, sure, no problem. So the sites. Your security is pretty lax on all of them. But it’s not a lost cause.”
“It looks like we hired the right person.”
“I think so.”
“Miss Gibson, you have two dogs? Last time I visited there as only one.” His pronunciation of dogs came out more like “dougs.”
“I am dog sitting for my neighbor, he’s out and about and I don’t have the heart to let Estelle be lonely. That’s the little one.”
“Estelle, French name, oui?”
“Yes.” Something had turned cold with Yuri Dubroff. Why did he really care how many dogs she had. All of a sudden she questioned the wisdom of meeting clients in her home. She also realized no one knew she had called Dobroff today.
Her concerns about safety were always outside her apartment. Not in her own kitchen. Bells began to go off in her brain. As Yuri Dubroff walked closer to her. She backed up.
“So your neighbor, Mace Alois, he is not so good a pet owner? Maybe as good of a pet owner as he is boyfriend?”
“How do you know that Mace is the owner, that he’s my uh, neighbor?”
“Oh he is much more than that is he not? We’ve been watching you very closely.”
“What?”
“Video, audio. So very x-rated Miss Gibson.” She was in real danger.
“Get out of here. Mace will be back any minute. I’ve got my phone.” Andrew began to growl and circle Dubroff. Good dog. That’s when the words and menace turned into actual violence.
Dubroff pulled out a gun from his jacket and Andrew leaped for him. It would be just enough time for her to get to her phone, call 911. But then a pop and a yelp stopped her cold. Dubroff had shot Andrew.
Oh, my god her beautiful dog. Estelle began growling and nipping at Dubroff. She flew to Andrew’s side. He was breathing thank god, still breathing, but bleeding from his chest.
“You fucking bastard!” She was out of her mind.
“Lower your voice and what’s this here? Your phone. I’ll be carrying that for you.” Raleigh had given away her one true weapon. Dubroff closed in on her.
Mace was right. He was completely right. They’d found him. They’d found her.
Her mind raced. How would she survive this? Dubroff raised the back of his hand and landed a smack on her cheek.
She struggled to stay conscious. Gray spots appeared.
She registered surprise at the ferocious sounding Estelle. She was trying to live up to her owner she thought. Then a whirl of conflicting and overwhelming electrical impulses in her brain took over.
The sound of Andrew whimpering and Estelle’s mighty little growl were the last things she would remember with any accuracy.
Mace
Mace was driving out of town, to where he didn’t know. He’d have to leave Estelle behind. He could not risk going back to the apartment and exposing Raleigh. As he gassed up the car for the journey to who knows where he took his phone out and looked at it.
He wanted to call her. Tell her goodbye. He wanted to explain again that it was the only way.
Raleigh would wait for him after her client left and she’d be calling him. He’d have to screen them and not answer. That would be torture.
He needed to email a few pictures of Raleigh to himself. They’d be gone with the phone when he ditched it and got a new one.
Mace needed those pictures. He only had one, blurry one of Nadya, and he hated that the details of her face were fading from his memory.
He wouldn’t let that happen with Raleigh. He couldn’t imagine not looking at her beautiful smile. Perhaps it would help him feel less lonely on the road he was set to travel.
That picture of Nadya and the small bag of things he owned was in the trunk. His kitchen. His perfect little haven, he would have to recreate it somewhere else.
Again.
His phone buzzed with messages.
All from Raleigh. He didn’t want to hear her. It would make it that much harder. He let them go to voice mail. And he waited.
His phone stopped buzzing. She’d given up. That was good. It would start again at sunset he knew.
She’d left a message.
The hell with it. He decided to torture himself. He’d listen and let her voice be his comfort. Hearing her will help steel his resolve to get far away from her.
These would be the last words he had from her. He would savor them. He played the message from Raleigh.
A familiar voice was on the message, but it wasn’t Raleigh.
You will be fighting at the GWG Friday night.
I know you can win.
It was Dubroff. Fucking Dubroff. He had Raleigh’s phone.
“Fuck!” His exclamation startled several other people at nearby gas pumps.
He didn’t care.
The comment about his parents was a ruse. It was a way to get him out of the picture. They knew about Raleigh. He led them right to the only thing he cared about.
The phone shook in his hand again.
A picture message. He didn’t want to look. He was sick at what it would show.
He slid his thumb over the screen to open the message.
It was a picture of Raleigh. She was unconscious. Dead? God. No. No. No.
There was an angry red mark on her cheek bone. It looked like that eye was swollen shut. Mace nearly vomited in the seat.
Then another message came through as he stared at the screen.
See you at the ring.
Mace typed in his answer.
If you hurt her, I will kill you. She needs medication. I’ll only fight if you let her go now.
The answering text turned his blood cold.
See you at the ring.
And then another picture appeared. It was Andrew. Bleeding. Oh god, they’d shot her dog. The bastards had shot her dog.
Mace got his raging emotions under control. He took a breath. He was sweating, shaking, and ready to crawl out of his skin. Mace got into his car and took the road back to Grand City. He drove as fast as he could.
He had no proof that Raleigh was alive or safe. So all he could do was what the text instructed. Fight.
Mace placed a call.
“Sawyer here.”
“Sawyer, yeah, I changed my mind. I’ll fight tomorrow.”
He just hoped Raleigh could hang tough and ride out whatever hell she was in.
A hell Mace was one-hundred percent responsible for.
Fight Night
Mace saw cameras, people packed in wall to wall, Sawyer in the corner, with men he supposed were from the 21C League, and then he turned attention to Whitey Hoolihan in front of him.
“I don’t know what convinced you to do this, but it was good move Frenchie.” He winced. Raleigh called him Frenchie too. He hadn’t had one text since the once that told him to fight. Was she alive?
Would he get word after the fight? Were the Russians in the audience? The questions were all rolling around his brain. He only knew that he had to do exactly as they asked.
“I don’t know Whitey. It was time. How’s that for a reason?”
“You fight for your re
asons. I ain’t here to judge you, just here to be sure you win. This guy from Chicago is a toughie. He’s going to try to knock your head off. You ever see any film on him?”
“No. I never watch film.”
“Oh yeah, well I do and he’s going to try to avoid your ground game by punching the shit out of that iron jaw of yours.”
“Thank you for the tip.” Whitey finished taping Mace’s hands. Craddock Flynn and Whitey would be in his corner if he needed them. He wouldn’t.
When he showed up Cassidy, the receptionist asked if she could save a seat for Raleigh. He tried not to wince at the mention of her name. He also did not know what to say.
“Thank you. I don’t think she’ll be able to make it tonight.”
“Too bad. I was hoping to see her again.” Cassidy looked into his eyes and he swore she could tell there was more to his story. He turned away before he got any more questions.
Craddock gave him a little more insight into the 21C Fighter he was about to murder.
“I fought him on Tough to the Top. He won’t be able to match you on the ground, you ride him out you got it knocked.” Craddock outlined his insight into Johnson Mitchell. Mace barely gave a thought to the fighter out of Chicago.
“Mitchell had good wrestling, great submission, but he couldn’t strike for shit,” Craddock told him.
It was all helpful, nice, encouraging support from the Great Wolves Gym in Grand City. But in the end he didn’t give two shits about it. He’d kill anyone in front of him.
If they said, win he’d win. As long as he thought Raleigh was alive.
“Merci.” He thanked Craddock and Whitey.
And the bell rang.
Mace didn’t bob and weave. He didn’t play games. Craddock was right. Mitchell Johnson landed a hard right on Mace’s cheek. For some reason, Mace leaned in and practically asked for a second one. Scratch that. He knew why. If Raleigh had a swollen cheek, he deserved two. Three.
“What are you doing? Protect yourself Mace.” Whitey yelled from the corner. White was right. Mace had no joy in this fight. It was wasn’t like the old days when he was filled with life force in the ring.
It was the exact opposite. Mace was death. Mace was darkness. And if you stood in his way he’d smash your head in.
They wanted him to fight he would fight. But they better see what they were in for if they hurt Raleigh.
Mace took down Johnson and wrapped up his arm in a grip that would be sure to have him tapping out in a second or two. It was going to be fast and ugly.
Mace didn’t hear the scream, and to his credit Johnson didn’t tap out. But blood and bone couldn’t withstand the fury that fueled Mace Alois.
The kimura did its job and Johnson’s bone wrenched into two pieces as Mace applied the pressure. Mace actually let go before the ref slid in to stop it. It wasn’t Mitchell Johnson’s fault they had Raleigh. This was about sending a message.
Mace stood up. As the blood thrumming in his ears subsided he heard the crowd, in between cheers, “Where’d he come from?”
“Vicious. I loved it.”
“Mace Alice? How do you pronounce it?”
He ignored it all and looked across to his target. The suits. The odds makers. The Russians.
They had their win and now he wanted his woman.
The Ride Trilogy Continues here
And don’t miss the sexy alpha male fighters of the Great Wolves Gym!
Click here to get the Hold Trilogy
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Bonus Excerpt from Hold Trilogy When Cassidy met Craddock it was love at first fight!
Cassidy put her hand on the metal door handle and tugged. It took her whole body weight to get the door open, and when she did a wave of heat, sweat, antiseptic, and man smell rolled over her. It was overpowering and took a second to adjust to. She scanned the huge space.
The walls were made of red brick and on the longest wall, across from her the letters GWG formed some sort of logo or symbol. She counted two boxing rings, one cage type thing in a back corner, a section of weights, and more bags than she could count all over the place. There were ropes, tires, more mats, and each area was meticulously organized into its own section.
Huge banners hung from the ceiling along the length of one wall. They pictured muscled men, arms crossed, staring at the camera, with a list of titles. Did they all work out here? It was pretty amazing, even though she didn’t know what any of the names or titles meant.
At the various stations there were men, muscled, tatted, hairy, shaved, and in between, men. At least thirty of them were working out in short, tight, dark colored, underwear, it was underwear in her estimation. Cassidy’s face was red. She could feel her own sweat pooling a bit in between her breasts. Maybe this was a bad idea. There wasn’t another woman in sight, maybe she wasn’t allowed?
Two men fighting in the closest ring caught her attention. So much was happening. She had no frame of reference. Every activity was new to her, but the two that were fighting, or was it sparring, in front of her were head to toe muscle and sinew. They were punching, kicking, and moving around the ring closest to her. She found herself walking closer, to get a better look.
She heard a gruff voice and followed the direction of the sound to find an older man at the corner outside of the ring yelling.
“Flynn is that really the best you got? I told you stop leaving that left arm down.” As he said it the other man landed a punch on this Flynn’s left side, near his ear. Cassidy looked at the odd shaped ear and knew this wasn’t the first time it had taken a punch. The man had his hair pulled back into a man bun to reveal they were both puffed up and misshapen.
The fighter that the old man called Flynn lowered his left shoulder a bit and his opponent charged. Cassidy’s heart dropped for this Flynn person as the other man grabbed him around the waist and took him to the mat with a thud. He landed on his shoulder. Cassidy figured that was that. It looked and sounded painful.
But it was like the mat was made of acid all of sudden and Flynn twisted and pulled his way up. After a flurry of limbs and grunts, Flynn had turned things around. He now seemed to be in charge. T
he two fighters were inches from where Cassidy stood. The action enthralled her so much, she’d gotten closer than she’d meant to.
Flynn had his opponent’s head in his arms and was squeezing the man’s body with his hairy legs. He looked up from annihilating the guy and straight into Cassidy’s eyes. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and better lashes than any woman.
But that’s where anything womanly ended. His nose was strong, even his jaw was a weapon, cloaked in dark stubble that would hurt if it rubbed against her sensitive skin. And where did that thought come from she wondered? He was a beast and he was inches from where she stood, his eyes felt like they were burning her face.
“I’m going to squeeze the shit out of him just for you pretty.” It was almost a sneer, the words that came out of his full lips. For her? What? Cassidy was definitely not supposed to be here. Why the hell wasn’t there a restaurant that needed a waitress? She took a step back and Flynn winked a blue eye at her. Her own sweat was getting more intense thanks to the raw look Flynn gave her. She swallowed and licked her lips, they were all of a sudden the only dry thing on her.
Flynn’s eyes traveled to her lips and all the way down to her shoes, sizing her up like another opponent. He barely noticed that the old man was screaming and the guy who’d punched him in the ear was tapping him.
“I think you won.”
“When you walked in here I did,” was his bold-as-hell reply.
Every alarm bell that Cassidy had went off. As a girl who’d taken care of herself for the last six years, her brain screamed turn around and walk out of this strange place. But Cassidy’s brain was not in control. Every other part of her said stand your ground. Sometimes in foster care you survived on instinct. Her instincts said hold his stare, stay. So she did.
“Jesus, Craddock, he’s tapping out, you mook.” The old man walked from the corner across the mat to Cassidy. The fighter broke eye contact, finally, and looked at the old man, then down at his opponent.
