Caged Love: MMA Contemporary Suspense (Book Three)

by Thunderbolt, Liberty

  * * *

  The two women sat at a table across from the bar and sipped their Long Island Iced Teas. Dana hadn’t planned on drinking, but Sherry ordered one, and it sounded good. Plus, it was happy hour. They considered ordering an appetizer, but Sherry couldn’t stay long.

  Sherry, in a light blue sweater that clung to her body and offered an outline of her firm breasts, sat her drink down and said, “So how are things, Dana. How’s work?”

  Dana just came from the office. She wore a smart, green dress. The same style as her others. “It’s been hell. I’m sorry to tell you this, but the bosses needed somebody to fill in for Harold...”

  “Well, I guess that makes sense. I can’t believe he’s been gone for over two months now. My stomach aches just thinking about him. He screwed up, but he’s a good husband, good father.”

  “I know,” Dana agreed. “And I’m sorry I haven’t gotten in touch with you.”

  “No worries. I’ve been in Phoenix for the last couple weeks. It feels so empty around here now.”

  Dana nodded sympathetically. “The new guy is clueless, fresh out of college. I’m holding his hand at every turn, and it’s running me ragged. Anyway, I know you couldn’t find the piano lesson guy Winters’ phone number. Well I did.”

  Sherry was in mid-drink and almost spit it out. “Really?”

  “Yes, but don’t get too excited. It didn’t exactly lead me to those two hoodlums, Eck and Dean.”

  “He really was just a piano teacher?”

  “Oh no, the number was from a cell phone from right here in Las Vegas, but that’s where the trail ends. It seems the phone was owned by an invisible person.”

  Sherry chewed on this for a moment and took another sip. There was a comforting sweetness to the drink, but it burned her throat and chest slightly. “So...the call had to have been from one of those guys, but there is no way to find them?”

  “That’s exactly right. After doing some sleuthing of my own I called Detective Westingham with the news the other day. His voice is sexy over the phone. Anyway, he said he’d look into it.”

  Sherry let the sexy voice comment go. “And what did he find?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. He hasn’t found anything either. I don’t know how hard he worked at it though. I also asked him if he’d heard back from forensics on Harold’s office. Nothing yet, but he said he’d make a call. I haven’t heard back. I told him that we were meeting today and I’d really like to give you some good information.”

  “But you don’t have good information. Information, but not good. We now know that these two bastards did call me pretending to be a piano teacher, and they probably used that against Harold in some way.”

  Dana nodded. An empathetic look across her face, as if she was consoling a woman who just lost a loved one. “I’m so sorry, Sherry.”

  “It’s just that I was so sure that they didn’t do anything to actually hurt Harold. I thought they helped him leave.”

  Dana nodded as she reached across the table and gripped Sherry’s wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Sherry’s eyes grew moist.

  “I’m not sure what else to do,” Dana said.

  “You’ve done so much,” Sherry said. “I spoke with Detective Westingham last week. He gave me an update, saying there wasn’t much new and he couldn’t say for sure that it was foul play.”

  “That damn Westingham,” Dana said. “He’s handsome but stretched thin. I’ll tell you he needs a good assistant. I’m going to contact him again real soon.”

  Sherry sipped her drink and caught a glimpse of a familiar man over Dana’s shoulder. “That’s not going to be necessary Dana...”

  “Well, yes it is. He needs to get off his skinny ass—”

  Sherry raised her hand cutting her off. “No, I mean because he’s walking up behind you right now.”

  Dana turned with a start. Detective Westingham looked down in equal surprise. “Well hello ladies, didn’t expect to bump into you here.”

  Both of them stared up at him. “Likewise,” Dana said. “You’re not following us are you?”

  It was a joke, but Westingham didn’t seem to get it. He was too busy listening to the Bogart voice in his head, be careful, don’t blow your cover. “No, no, I’m meeting somebody here.” He glanced down at his watch. It was almost four thirty. “Yeah, four thirty, meeting them.”

  Both the women nodded slowly. Sherry, thinking the man strange, Dana thinking he was intriguing. “Have a drink with us while you wait,” Sherry said. “We were talking about Harold. Dana’s given me some interesting information.”

  Westingham scratched his freckled neck and shot a look around the bar feigning consideration. “Why not? My associate usually runs a little late. I planned on calling first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got a little information, too.”

  He pulled up a chair, and Dana ordered three more Long Islands. Sherry really didn’t want another, but didn’t have time to protest. “What’s your news?” Dana asked.

  “Not much I’m afraid. They found a partial finger print on one of the photos, but when they ran it through the database they didn’t get any hits. I checked traffic cameras in the area as well, but was unable to catch the vehicle, let alone a license plate. His computer was a dead end, too. I’ve tried to track down two men that may be the ones from your sketches. I want to question them regarding another matter,” he chose that last word wisely as Nick Maris flashed through his mind, “but I haven’t been able to find them.”

  Dana prodded. “Mitch, you don’t mind if I call you Mitch do you?”

  “Not at all, Ms. Murphy.”

  Dana batted her eye lashes. “Oh please, call me Dana.”

  Sherry watched their exchange. These two seemed made for each other.

  “Well, Mitch, I’m glad you’re getting more involved, for poor Sherry’s sake, and Amanda’s. They deserve to know where Harold is.” She flashed to the desert. That’s where he was, but she couldn’t dare say that with Sherry sitting across the table.

  “It’s my job, Dana, but I don’t have a lot of resources. And despite it seeming like these men could have done something to Harold, I don’t have much else to go on. I’m also tied up working the triple homicide, the one out by the airport, and another homicide downtown.”

  Dana leaned toward Mitch and raised her eye brows. “Sounds like the city needs to give you a competent personal assistant, someone to help you out.”

  “I’d love that, but it’s not going to happen.”

  Sherry shifted her gaze back and forth between the two. Their flirting was horrendous, but neither seemed to notice. They were a perfect match. She glanced at her watch, almost five o’clock, her drink was half full, but she decided to leave these two to their blossoming...whatever it was.

  “Dana, Detective, I need to go.” She looked at Mitch. “It looks like your associate is a no show.”

  His eyes glazed over for a split second, and then he remembered. “Oh, I guess you’re right, she, he, I mean he does that from time to time.” He turned to Dana. “I’m starving. Care to continue the discussion over dinner? Professional of course.”

  Dana glanced at Sherry. “Well...sure, as long as it’s professional.”

  “Okay,” Sherry said. “Dana thanks for your help, and Detective I appreciate your efforts, too.”

  She rose to leave. “Here, let me walk you out,” Dana said.

  Mitch rose too, but only halfway out of his seat. In the process he bumped the table, almost spilling the drinks. Sherry patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your professional dinner Detective Westingham.”

  Outside, the Nevada wind continued to whip little pellets of sand along the ground. The sharp sand slapped their ankles. “Really, thank you so much,” Sherry said. “And it looks like you have yourself an interested man in there.”

  “Oh gosh, Sherry, I’m going to eat with him strictly to gather more information. He is an interesting devil though, isn’t he?
”

  “That’s one way to put it. Be careful, he might end up being too interesting.”

  “I will, I always am.”

  “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly. It just hurts so bad to talk about Harold, and now think that these men really did hurt him. I have to go back to Phoenix in a few days. Amanda has a big soccer tournament next week. It’s so hard, because I want to make things as normal as I can for her, but many nights we cry each other to sleep.”

  “I understand hon. I’m always thinking of you two. Tell Amanda good luck for me.”

  They hugged and parted ways. Sherry climbed into her SUV. She felt terrible about Harold. She missed him so much, but it was good to see Dana stumble into a relationship. She just feared her relationship was really over, and she may not know the truth behind Harold’s disappearance for a long time. That burned her throat and chest much more than the Long Island Ice Tea.

  Chapter 16

  It was almost too much for Bear to handle. It was late March for Christ Sake, but the Dallas heat had arrived. The temperature in his rental read 97 degrees. On top of the heat he had to deal with Bretten and Tristan. The two helped keep his head above water financially, but their relationship was practically drowning him.

  Still, he knew when he got the offer from Superior Mixed Martial Arts, a weekly show dedicated to the sport on the SRV Network, he had to drag both fighters to it. The publicity was too good to pass up.

  Neither man wanted to come. Their fights less than a week away, they couldn’t afford a break in their routine. Bretten’s title defense was against Dan Griffin, a great wrestler, but new to MMA at 4-0. Tristan landed on the fight card only a few weeks ago. He was matched up with a solid veteran in 17-8 Tre Moore. Tristan was the slight favorite. Bear thought he’d lose though. His dad, the drinking, the anger, it seemed everything was working against him. Normally this would be upsetting, but Bear had a plan.

  The show’s taping was scheduled in twenty minutes. Bear had make-up plastered on his face and the little white tissues still draped over his suit jacket. The group was discussing the show when his phone rang. It was Mr. Smith. Bear excused himself in a hurry and found an empty office in the back corner of the building.

  “Mr. Haynes, how goes it? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “Yes, Mr. Smith, things have been busy, but all is well.”

  “Are you sure? I didn’t scare you off because of our last conversation did I?

  “Oh no, not at all. I was planning on calling you soon.”

  “Really? And why is that?”

  “Well, I want to be as forthcoming as possible so you have all the information.”

  “Okay...please continue.”

  Bear wiped his sweaty hand on his jacket and noticed his heartbeat was rapid and strong. He explained the situation regarding Tristan, told Mr. Smith his thoughts on the fight. How he thought the man would not be ready because of his personal life, his drinking. He finished and waited. The line was as silent as was the room in which he sat. The silence was physically constricting his throat.

  Finally, Mr. Smith spoke. “What about Bretten Maris?”

  The question caught Bear off guard. He hadn’t even mentioned Maris. “He’s a three to one favorite,” he responded hoarsely.

  “Is he going to win?”

  “Anything can happen in a fight—”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. Is he or isn’t he?”

  “I’d be shocked if he lost.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go with you on them both. You arrive back in Vegas late tonight?”

  “Yes sir, I’ll only be there for a couple days.”

  “We’ll visit tomorrow, go over the specifics.”

  “Okay sir.”

  Mr. Smith hung up. Bear leaned back and took in the empty room. The silence seeped in around him again, only his heavy breathing disrupted it. He gathered himself and left the stillness for the studio.

  * * *

  The host, Mike Sharp, was a former fighter. He did well, was charismatic, liked by fans, perfect for the job. MMA was still young, but it was following in the footsteps of more established sports. Players became coaches or announcers, apparently a natural progression no matter the game.

  Bear was planted between Bretten and Tristan behind a counter-like table. The harsh lights brought discomfort, but not as much as his fear of the interview deteriorating into an all-out brawl.

  Mike was not afraid of this at all. After brief introductions he said, “And now here we have these two former training partners finding themselves side by side on our upcoming SRV card. I’m not immune to the internet forums and MMA radio. I’ve heard about the growing rift between you two.” He nodded toward the table. “I’m sure you guys read it too. I want to get the story straight from the horse’s mouth. Bretten, how about you go first? Tell us about your relationship with Tristan.”

  Bear couldn’t believe the man had taken the interview in this direction so quickly. He seemed more like a gossip queen than a former fighter.

  “Mike, I don’t have much time to read internet forums,” Bretten said. “Between training and working with Slam Energy Drinks and my other sponsors, I don’t usually get into all that.”

  “Well, what about the relationship with you two? Where did it turn sour?”

  Bretten leaned onto the surface and rubbed his hands together. He glanced at Bear and Tristan. “I don’t think it really is sour. We’re fighters, we’re both competitive, and we want to win. We’ve had our differences, but I don’t see it as a sour relationship.”

  Of course he did, but didn’t want to go into it on TV.

  Tristan, however, had lower inhibitions. “That’s not exactly the case,” he said. “We don’t like each other. He thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

  Bear wanted to interject, but couldn’t think of anything to say so he shifted his weight and cleared his throat.

  Bretten leaned in. “That’s ridiculous. You lost control and attacked me during training. And what about the business at Champions of the Cage?”

  “That was all you. You’ve done one thing after another. First Brooke, then the funeral, your attitude stinks of cockiness.”

  Bear looked at Mike for help, but the host had a gleam in his eyes and didn’t say a word as his head bounced back and forth between Bretten and Tristan like he was watching a tennis match.

  Bear cut in. “They’ve had some differences, but let’s talk about the upcoming fights...”

  Nobody responded. Instead, Bretten said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about with Brooke, but all I did at your dad’s funeral was be respectful and tried to eat on the way home. I can’t help it if two idiots decided to rob the place.”

  Tristan cranked his neck to face Bretten. It seemed both men completely forgot they were on camera despite their surroundings. “I told you last time that we were going to fight, and when we do I’m going to beat the shit out of you!”

  “Bring it on asshole,” Bretten was half out of his seat, “or are you just running your mouth for the cameras you sorry bitch?”

  Tristan jumped up, and Bretten did as well. Tristan swung, an overhand right, Bretten dodged the punch and fired a left that caught the side of Tristan’s face. Mike and Bear leapt into the fray and pulled them apart.

  The producer cut taping and stepped in to calm things down. He wanted drama, but not the Jerry Springer Show.

  “What the hell is wrong with you two?” Bear said. “You’re grown men. You need to act like it!”

  They knew he was right, but each irked the other so badly that when together they couldn’t help it. Bretten thought about Mike’s first question. He didn’t really know when or how the relationship turned sour, he just knew it had, and one day he was going to enjoy punching Tristan in the head over and over. But for the time being he had to focus on Dan Griffin, not Tristan Holmes.

  The show continued after Mike promised to leave the rocky relationship alone
. They discussed their upcoming fights and other hot topics in the world of MMA, but all of them knew the internet forums and MMA radio shows would be talking about their on camera fight more than anything else.

  Chapter 17

  For three days Newcomb and Woods mercilessly teased Bretten about the interview. For sure they were fine with him whipping Tristan, but they still wanted to have their fun. Now, here it was the night before the weigh in, the fight only forty eight hours away and the two still peppered him with jokes.

  The evening was one of the rare times all the occupants were actually in the house. Bretten, Brooke, Rodrigo, Newcomb, Woods, Brooke’s roommate Marita Harris, even Millsap, sat in the living room having just watched Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon. It came from Rodrigo’s collection. Throughout the movie Newcomb and Woods took turns jabbing at Bretten, Hey, you going to try that kick on Tristan...better hope Tristan isn’t as fast as Bruce.

  The teasing was friendly, but annoying as hell. The credits rolled, and Rodrigo scratched his chin in thought. “Bruce Lee could throw rice in the air and catch the grains between a pair of chopsticks.”

  “That’s bullshit man,” Newcomb said. “No way he did that.”

  Rodrigo began to argue when Woods said, “That’s not so hard. Hell, I could do it with a little practice.”

  “Woods, you can’t even use chopsticks,” Brooke said.

  “I don’t know,” Marita said. “He always wants to go to the Panda House Restaurant down the street.”

  “Exactly,” Woods said triumphantly. “I like, no I love Chinese food...and women!”

  “So what, that doesn’t mean you can catch rice with chopsticks,” Rodrigo said.

  In a matter of minutes everyone wielded a pair of wooden chopsticks from the Panda House. With no rice available, macaroni flew around the room with none of it landing between two chopsticks.

  Newcomb even poked himself in the eye. “Son of a bitch, I’ve been hit, I’ve been hit,” he blinked and hollered. Everyone laughed as he rolled on the floor. Bretten felt a surge of relief, now Newcomb would be the brunt of the jokes for a while.