Caged Love: MMA Contemporary Suspense (Book Three)

by Thunderbolt, Liberty

  Caged Love

  © 2016 by Zac Robinson

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, places, characters, and events are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the written permission from the author.

  Caged Love

  MMA Contemporary Suspense

  (Book Three)

  Liberty Thunderbolt

  Zac Robinson

  Chapter One

  Five Months before UCC 132

  Bretten worked in the clinch with Rodrigo. After a series of moves he had double under hooks. “Good, now work to the body lock.” Whit calmly instructed. “Don’t let him get to over under.”

  Bretten continued, and in a matter of seconds he had his hands around Rodrigo’s body, the dominant position for which he was searching to throw his opponent. He shifted his weight, twisted, and extended his hips. Just before his buddy was launched to the makeshift folding mat in the dressing room, he let up on the throw.

  “Damn bro, I thought you were going to Darnell-Plex me.” Rodrigo joked.

  “Nice,” Whit said. “In the clinch that’s exactly what I want you to work for.”

  “You got it coach.”

  The locker room was draped in tense anticipation. The waiting was painful. Bretten arrived at the arena a couple hours earlier and spent the time going through the long process of both physical and mental preparation.

  Whit glanced at the screen. “Work on the focus mitts a little bit and stay warm. You’re going out in about twenty minutes or so.”

  Brooke held up her gloved hands, and Bretten went to work on combinations. Rodrigo sipped water and shifted his weight back and forth as he looked on. Bear slipped in beside Rodrigo. “He’s looking good, right? He’s moving fast?”

  Rodrigo was getting annoyed with Bear. The man was too nervous, especially for someone who had been around the fight game his entire life. Of course Rodrigo couldn’t have known that after Bear’s arrangement with Mr. Smith he had a great deal riding on Bretten. “I think he’s looking good,” Rodrigo said. “He’s fresh, and Whit and Doc have developed an outstanding game plan.”

  On cue, Whit started going over the game plan while Bretten punched and kicked. “Remember, controlled aggression is the key tonight. Push the pace. Stay on him, but keep your head at all times. He’s crafty and well-rounded, so if you rush anything, get overzealous, he can catch you. Stay busy. Use your strength. Use your athleticism. Dictate the fight, but remain controlled. I want you to hammer him in the stand up, out strike him, clinch and smother him.”

  Brooke added. “You’ve got to fight like you’re experienced. Be smart in the cage.”

  Bretten nodded, shook out his arms and paused for a drink of water. She could see in his eyes that he was ready, but feared he was too ready, on the edge, a place where animalistic instinct and human reason intermingled to form a dangerous fighter. Trouble arose when a fighter toppled over the edge and reason gave way to instinct. She grabbed his chin and brought her mouth to his. The kiss was quick and hard. She came away from it with a salty hint of sweat on her lips. “You understand? Remember Doc’s story, the villagers defeated the lion because they used their intelligence. In this fight you have to be both the lion and the villagers, ferocious and smart all the time.”

  “I understand. I’ll be both,” he said.

  Just then, the crowd roared. Both turned to the screen to see one man on the canvas with the other pumping his fist and climbing onto the cage. “Okay, you’ll go in seven or eight minutes. Stay relaxed,” Whit said. “You know what to do and how to do it.”

  Rodrigo turned away from the television. “You can do this. You’ve improved a ton since Korea...and that was a hell of a fight.”

  “Thanks, any other words of wisdom, you know, from Bruce?”

  “Let’s see...‘this is real knowledge, my friend, understand the root. And always remember a good martial artist is not tense, but ready.’”

  Bretten nodded, and the two hit knuckles.

  The crowd was as big as the one in Korea, but more docile, subdued in comparison. The lights flashed and spun over the fans as Bretten stopped just outside of the cage in front of his cutman. He slipped off his Nikes and yanked his t-shirt over his head. It caught on his gloves for a second and then broke free. He handed it to Rodrigo and then hugged him and Whit and Brooke.

  Her lips brushed his cheek. “You can do this,” she said.

  Bear marched with them until he arrived at his cageside seat, where he broke off and nervously stood with his hands on his hips. Brooke joined Bear after the hug and Rodrigo and Whit made their way to just outside the cage.

  His cutman stepped up and slathered him with gobs of Vaseline. Around his eyes, his nose, and cheeks. The odorless petroleum created an odd quality to his skin and the bit that found the inside of his nostrils tickled. The referee then gave his face and head a once over and nodded his approval. Bretten returned the nod and turned to the cage steps.

  The crowd noise picked up as Bretten entered the cage. He jogged a circle along the fence and then half slid half galloped another lap. He stopped in front of Whit and Rodrigo and his coach went into the last-minute instructions.

  A new song blasted into the arena and Adrian Davis followed the same path as his opponent. He received his Vaseline and Bretten found Brooke and blew her a kiss. She smiled and sent one of her own. Her green eyes then grew hard as she nodded in a gesture that could only mean one thing, kick this guy’s ass.

  Moments later, Davis too was in the cage. Both fighters now stood on the edge. The announcer performed his duties, the referee his. And the buzzing crowd settled like they always do just before the bell, as if the transition from anticipation to action steals their breath.

  The referee yelled, and the fight was on. Both men met in the center of the cage and touched gloves. Bretten stepped back, offered a moment of false relaxation and then let loose a beautifully timed thrashing low kick that seemingly cut Davis’ lower left leg in half. He wobbled, retreated and tried to regain his balance but Bretten delivered a straight left that caught the champion’s chin. Not enough force to drop him, but enough to make his eyes grow wide as if he was startled from sleep. Adrian Davis realized he was in for a real fight.

  Davis circled away and Bretten pursued. He heard Whit say, “Cut him off, control.”

  He did just that. Shuffled quickly to his right and cut off the other man. Davis, unable to retreat unleashed a flurry. A jab, a right hand, a cross, none of them did any damage and Bretten returned the favor. Two of his punches slammed into Davis, loosening his neck. His chin in the air Bretten zeroed in with an overhead right attempting to end the fight, but Davis slipped underneath the blow and tied up.

  The men fought for position. They both delivered knees and Davis caught Bretten with a sharp elbow to the side of his head. It offered nothing, no damage. The clinch in the locker room with Rodrigo flashed in Bretten’s head. He heard Whit’s words and worked to gain leverage. He was faster, stronger than Davis and sensed an instinctual urge to try to finish the man quickly.

  Bretten found the double under hooks, but the smart veteran countered by snaking an arm between, dissipating the advantage. Both loosened their clinch and furiously struck at each other. Again Bretten got the best of it and Davis slipped away in an effort to regroup.

  Bretten heard Rodrigo this time. “He’s hurt
. Push the pace!”

  One step, two steps, Bretten leapt from the canvas. The flying knee planted itself into the middle of Davis’ chest. He tumbled backward, like a man shot. A look of complete surprise assaulted his face. He covered up and Bretten jumped on top to finish the fight, but after two blows the bell sounded. Round one mercifully came to an end for Davis.

  Adrian Davis struggled on wobbly legs to his corner. Bretten took a deep breath, his tense muscles relaxed and he made his way to his stool. He drank water as Whit said, “He’s almost done, but will probably come out insane. He knows it will be his only hope. Stay under control and be smart. Wait until the opportunity presents itself. Trust me, it will, and then finish.”

  “You got it coach.”

  The bell sounded and the referee encouraged the men to fight. Whit was right. Davis stormed out and threw a barrage of punches and then a lazy high kick. None of them put Bretten in danger, and after the kick he shot off a straight right then a left hook. He followed the hook by slipping to the side of Davis. From there he clinched his opponent and worked around to his back.

  Davis sank his hips and tried to deliver elbows, but they fell short. On the third elbow attempt he made the mistake of raising his center of gravity. Darnell Woods’ slam known as the Darnell-Plex shot through Bretten’s mind. He shifted his hips underneath Davis’ and ripped him away from gravity. Bretten held tight, straightened his hips with all his might, kicked his right leg high and then he too left the canvas. In total control Bretten twisted to his left as both men flew through the air. The maneuver placed him on top as they returned to earth.

  Davis hit with a stomach-turning thud. His shoulders, neck, and head were all driven into the floor simultaneously. He hit so hard his body folded and his legs flopped over his head. His knee and shin decimated his nose, and the champion’s body went rigid. Bretten started to strike, started to finish, but realized it wasn’t necessary. The referee jumped in, pulled him backwards and immediately tended to the unconscious man.

  The slam was so shocking, so alarming that fans were reserved in their recognition of the unbelievable throw. Then Davis rolled to his side and with help made his way to a stool. Bretten cut through the doctors and looked into Davis’ eyes. “You alright?”

  Davis nodded and mumbled. “Great fight, you deserve it.”

  “Thanks Adrian.”

  Brooke grabbed and squeezed Bretten. Then Rodrigo lifted and carried him around the cage. The crowd realized that Davis would survive, and thundered their appreciation for the amazing performance, especially when they watched the replay on the big screen.

  Whit produced a grin. “Nice effort pup.”

  Bear snaked his way through the crowd, his thin hair disheveled, and hugged Bretten like a long lost son. “You did it Maris. You did it. Son of a bitch that was incredible.”

  Bear was right. Bretten did do it. He was finally a champion.

  Chapter Two

  Darnell Woods had the clip saved on his computer. He woke up early and tried his best not to ask Matt Millsap how to do it. He knew Millsap would know. Hell, Rodrigo swore he was building a bomb or something in his room, and the fact that the guy kept his door locked added to the suspicion.

  Woods was struggling to get everything set up on the big screen TV. He looked at his watch. “Crap, almost noon,” he said.

  Finally, he gave in, trudged up the stairs and banged on Millsap’s door. He heard the psycho rummaging around and finally the door edged open. “Hey Millsap, I need your help dude.”

  Millsap leaned back a little and glanced over his left shoulder, at what Woods did not know and did not want to find out. “What kind of help?”

  “I need to get this damn clip I made of Bretten’s slam on the big screen.”

  Millsap shrugged. “Okay, that’s easy enough.”

  He followed Darnell back down the stairs to the living room. “See what I’m talking about, Millsap? I’m trying to get this thing hooked up so I can show it on the big screen, and I want the commentary as loud as possible.”

  “You need my help with that? Why don’t you just air drop it?”

  “Air what it?”

  “Never mind, here, just let me do it real quick.”

  Darnell watched as Millsap disconnected a couple wires then reconnected them in different places. Finally he hit a few buttons and the TV sprang to life.

  “Yes, that’s sweet Millsap, you’re the man.”

  Millsap scratched behind his right ear. “Don’t I know it,” he said, and sauntered out of the room and up the stairs.

  Darnell shook his head in amazement and turned back to the TV. He thumbed the volume and the sound got louder. The crowd was rumbling and the announcer screamed. “I think Davis is hurt...oh my gosh, Maris planted a flying knee square into the champ’s chest, he’s got to hold on for five more seconds...”

  The screen flickered briefly and then offered a shot of Maris landing a left hook and working behind Davis. The announcer in his shrill voice said, “Davis is in trouble again, Maris has his back...those elbows aren’t going to do anything...” And then Bretten hurled Davis into the air and twisted as if he was in an action movie. “Oh Dear God, Dear God,” the announcer screamed. “The Darnell-Plex, the Darnell-Plex, Davis is completely out! Bretten Maris is the new SRV Fights welterweight champion!”

  Immediately after the announcer belted the word champion, the screen flickered again and replayed the whole scene. Woods plopped onto the couch and watched it at least ten more times and loved every one of them. Even though he was by himself he chuckled each time he heard Darnell-Plex. He wished he could have made the trip to Dallas, but was at a Fighters Fighting Violence charity event on Friday and couldn’t get back in town until Saturday evening. He was torn because he wanted to go, but was dedicated to FFV.

  He’d spent Thursday and Friday in Detroit talking to junior high and high school kids about the importance of resolving conflicts peacefully, and then ate up his Saturday morning at a local gym giving a free seminar. He loved doing that stuff, but hated missing the fight.

  The next best thing was Ben’s Bar so he hiked the couple blocks and sipped a beer while watching the card. When Bretten slammed Davis the walls shook, but the announcer was screaming so loud everyone heard his reference to the Darnell-Plex. The bar patrons congratulated Darnell as if he’d just won a title.

  He started to shut off the TV when he heard somebody on the porch. He bolted up and raced for the door. It opened as he arrived, and there stood Bretten, Rodrigo, and Brooke. Darnell gave Rodrigo a high five and then bear hugged Bretten. “The Darnell-Plex...that was freaking awesome bro.”

  “Thanks Woods, I think you’re breaking a rib,” Bretten said.

  Woods laughed and released the hug. “Yeah, you gotta fight again in a couple weeks, too.”

  Brooke tried to make it past the overzealous Woods, but he spun around and nabbed her too. “And you’ve gotta be pumped about your man. You probably gave him something special last night didn’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know you big loser?”

  “Actually...hey, come on you have to check this out.”

  Woods bounded back into the living room and the trio followed. Upon arriving he cranked up the volume. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to get this set up, but it is badass.”

  They all stood and watched the clip, and in unison let out a groan on the flying knee and then a howl on the slam. Even though the late hour and adrenaline of the previous night had made them tired, and the drive back from Dallas had all but wiped them out, they regained a little energy as they watched the screen repeat the domination over and over.

  “Alright, you guys put your shit up then come on,” Woods said. “Lunch is on me, Bud’s Barbeque.”

  A few minutes later bags were safely in their rooms and the group, Woods, Bretten, Rodrigo, and Brooke stood in the living room to watch the carnage a couple more times. “Millsap not coming?” Brooke asked.

&n
bsp; “You know he’s not,” Woods said. “He just got some parts in this morning from the pentagon, top secret stuff. He’ll be holed up for three or four days.”

  They all laughed and made their way for the door when Brooke’s cell phone rang. She answered and listened for a few seconds. Her face contorted in a frown. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, is there anything you need?” After a pause. “Okay, I’ll call tonight and I’ll definitely be there.”

  She clicked off the phone and looked around. Nobody was laughing as they waited for her to relay whatever news she’d just received. “Tristan’s dad just died.”

  Chapter Three

  Detective Mitch Westingham eased his lanky frame into the worn gray office chair, careful not to put his forearms on the cracked armrests because they pinched. He sat the folder on the desk. He ran a freckled hand through his fire red hair and turned his attention to the lady sitting across the paper-strewn desk.

  She had waited patiently for him to tend to another matter. Westingham mused to himself that her demeanor was surprising because she’d been so pushy over the last couple of weeks. She’d called twice and they spoke at length. She chased him down in the parking lot and he could barely get away, and the other day she insisted on this meeting. He finally relented, even though the forensic artist’s time was valuable. He just wanted to appease her so she’d stop bothering him.

  Dana Murphy sat stone still and stared. Westingham gave her a brief once over, force of habit he guessed, he did it with everybody. Her cheeks were full, and pretty blue eyes rested atop them. Her hair blonde and neat, the word efficient kept coming to his mind. He glanced at her blue dress and noticed the gold buttons were near quarter sized, a style akin to his grandmother’s, other than that it looked fine. The fingers on her left hand were free of jewelry. Two on her right though had gold rings encompassing them. They squeezed her flesh as if they’d shrunk.

  Obviously she wasn’t married. Maybe she needed somebody to please her, maybe then she wouldn’t be so fixated on her boss. Then another thought struck Westingham. Maybe her boss was pleasing her, and that’s why she was so fixated. He made a note to do a little digging at this angle.