Fighter Daddy: A Bad Boy Secret Baby MMA Sports Romance
Page 18
The referee jumps back as quickly as he's physically able. I almost forget to dodge, because it looks so comical. Guys have run from Sam in the cage often enough. Sometimes referees do that too, when Sam doesn't agree with their decision. Another fun part of fighting him is that the referee is bound to be looking forward to announcing him the winner as soon as he's able.
Sam moves with supernatural speed. A guy his size shouldn't be able to jump start like a sports car. One second he's standing perfectly still, giving me that murderous grin, the next he's moving, coming straight at me like a freight train. I jump out of the way and the audience boos. Idiots. This is why I don't take the fans seriously. They hate reason. If I explained to them I don't like getting mashed against the cage and letting Sam beat me unconscious in the first thirty seconds, they wouldn't understand. All they see is that I am afraid.
I am not. Sam's a monster. A meaner, bigger, more dangerous monster than I'm used to, but he's only human like me. And all humans can fall.
His intention is clear. He wants to pin me underneath him and use those gigantic fists of his to bash my skull in. I can't let him trip me or I'm done. Worse, I'm dead.
I have to thank Carson properly at some point. His warning gave me an irreplaceable tool to use against Sam here in the octagon. It's the knowledge that I'm fighting for my life as well as Raina's and Susan's. And my child too, if Ricky ever discovers the truth.
There are many Marines doing MMA these days. They all say the same thing. The more we feel like we're in danger, the sharper we become. It's in our nature to function best under the most extreme pressure. And what is greater than knowing a fucking giant is about to paint the cage red with your blood?
Sam has not been idle. He is in constant movement and I like it. The more he rushes, the more he tires himself. That is the only break I can hope for. This is a show match; there are no rounds here. We fight until one of us wins. The referee can pull us apart—if he can—but we don't get breathers.
Sam charges me. His monstrous arms are flinging around, casting a net. If I get caught in that, I'm dead too. I dodge his catch, giving him a fast kick to the stomach. He barely grunts, turns with uncanny speed, and continues his pursuit.
I am quickly reduced to basic survival. Step by step, Sam backs me into a corner, pushing me to fall back or risk getting caught by him. Eventually I'm left with no choice. With my back literally against the cage, I push myself off it and ram him shoulder first. It really does feel like crashing into a brick wall.
But it worked, barely enough. Sam stumbles back. I can't let him catch his footing. I do something insane. I throw my hands around Sam and drive his momentum forward. We go down together and roll as soon as we land. I let go of him as soon as we began to free-fall, landing an elbow first on his ribs, but Sam shrugs it off like it's nothing.
It's true what they said, I think, as I'm pummeling his face with my fists while sitting on top of him. Sam doesn't feel pain like normal people do. He barely grunts to show he registered the hit. I curse whoever dug him out of a hole and put him in a ring. How do you make a guy who doesn't feel pain submit?
Sam catches me. The bastard lured me into a trap and I took it, because I had to. There was no other way. At least like this I got a few punches in. He catches my hand on its way to his bleeding face and twists me off him. The angle is excruciating. I cry out, feeling Sam pin me to the ground with his entire body weight. Three hundred pounds of raw murder sitting on top of me. I try to crawl out, but he has me.
My hand. I have to free my hand before he dislocates it or rips it off completely. I'm on my stomach with Sam crouching over me. The aim of the first kick is completely off, but I compensate the second time. I kick up with my leg, trying to hit his kneecap.
Even if Sam doesn't feel pain, it would make his leg spasm. I kick and kick and kick, gritting my teeth and struggling as Sam twists my hand behind my back, almost out of the socket.
Finally I hit. I feel Sam lurch above me and through the burning pain, I rip my hand free. I roll around and kick him again. My legs hit his. It gives me a small push away, but it's all I need. I scramble backward, getting up, breathing heavily as Sam charges me again.
His expression barely changes. The smirk is still there. I haven't injured him; I've only succeeded in tiring him a bit. Sam is still certain he'll win. Fuck that. I'm not going down, not to this brute.
I jump out of the way, letting Sam crash into the cage with such force it shakes the entire structure. People at the ringside wince away, but I know they love it. Well, everyone but Raina. I banish the idea of her as quickly as I'm able, because Sam doesn't give me a second to draw my breath.
He charges, raining down punches on me. I'm fine with boxing so long as I can still dodge. This is where I have an advantage. Sam is freakishly fast for someone his size, but I'm faster. I move quickly around him, dodging his blows and landing my own. If this were someone else, I'd risk a leg kick, but Sam would catch me and topple me again.
His own idea isn't bad. It occurs to me the only way I'd win is to do the same, but I can't let him get up. I look for an opening, but Sam hasn't stayed unbeatable only because of his bulk. The bastard reads his opponents better than people give him credit for. He's immediately on guard when I move toward him.
I pull a feint and it works too well. I back away, looking like I gave up on the plan. When Sam spreads his long hands again, I wait until he closes them, catching thin air. Then I get in a good punch right to his side where I know it made his ribs shake.
Good punch, bad outcome. Sam turns to me, fury in his eyes. Now I made the monster mad.
He roars, the first real sound I've heard from him all day. I can't dodge his next attack and he barges into me head-on, slamming me against the cage wall. I hear the crowd howl and cheer as I beat down upon his head as hard as I'm able. Sam returns the favor by pounding his huge fists into my ribs. It feels like repeatedly getting hit by a sledgehammer. I grunt and kick with my legs, trying to push us off the cage wall.
I change my angle, aiming all my punches against his ear. It's a sensitive spot and it fucks with a person's balance. I pummel it mercilessly until Sam gives me a chance to push us off the fence. We both fall and I roll away from him, trying to catch my breath. My insides feel like all my organs are mashed into one. My breath comes in broken, wheezing sobs, signaling a bad punch to the lungs.
My only comfort is that Sam doesn't charge at once. My blood burns, every inch of me aching, but the monster has taken damage too. He's trying to do something to his ear. I hope I ruptured his eardrum.
I think at least one of my ribs is broken, but I'm about to do something stupid again. Sam is standing just there. It is so odd to see him standing still that I have to shake my head clear to be sure I'm seeing it right.
He needs a breather. That only means one thing. Despite the pain I'm in, I can't give him that. I take a step, then a quicker one and throw myself into him again. Using my own body as a battering ram isn't pleasant in any way, but in the cage there is no other way. The opponent has to come down, especially when it's a guy like Sam.
We fall and this time I land on top. I pound down on his face, keeping the pressure on the side with the damaged ear. I punch and punch until blood flows, but Sam is not someone who stays down when they're beaten. With a guttural roar, he pulls me off him.
In the second where life flashes before my eyes, I think I was fucking fooled, and that Sam has been holding back this whole time and his injury was fake. But as he pulls me tight against him and on top of him as he presses down on my windpipe, I know he didn't. I feel his heart beating madly, his breath coming in furious gushes, his hands shaking.
He doesn't feel pain, but he can be beaten and I was doing it. Now I'm in a headlock that might be deadly soon. The referee steps closer and Sam growls at him. The man looks on, wide-eyed, uncertain, as Sam keeps squeezing the life out of me. I try to pull the same move I did with Carson, but Sam takes the pain and keeps up the pr
essure.
I choke madly, out of air. A crazy idea passes through my mind that this is it, this is the end. I failed and Sam is going to kill me. My thoughts immediately go to Raina and her beautiful doe eyes tearing up when she begged me not to die. All the work she did, sending me tips on Sam that she found, trying to help me any way that she could.
I can't do this to her, to either of them. I have to find the strength to break free from Sam's death snare. It's difficult, so fucking difficult. My limbs are starting to spasm, I feel my body surrendering to instincts and reflexes.
The crowd is beating hard against the cage, pressing down on the front rows, desperate to see Sam triumph. I grit my teeth, feeling blood seep through, running down my cheeks. In spite of them, I won't fucking die.
For Raina, I will live.
I claw at Sam's hands until they're bloody. I grasp the fingers of the hand that's holding me and one by one, second by agonizing second, I pry them open and push his huge bicep away enough to breathe in. Sam tightens his hold again, but I put everything I have into it and I'm able to slip free, coughing.
Sam's on his feet behind me already. He's coming, but he's slowing. I can barely lift my limbs, but once again I refuse to let up. I attack, practically jumping to hold myself up against him and punch his head again and again and again. I see his face going limp, see his eyes flicker shut, I know what this means...
Which is why Sam's fist catches me unexpected. It goes straight to my stomach, sending me stumbling back, falling. I only have a second to jump to my feet again on shaky legs that refuse to listen, and we're back where we were. Sam's swinging back and forward, but the huge bastard is still standing. He's lured me into traps so many times today, but I risk it.
All my punches do nothing, but a sharp leg kick to his ribs is different. Now it's me pushing him back and Sam's about to collapse. The crowd is silent, dead silent, but I don't give a shit about them. My knuckles are bleeding. I've worn them thin beating Sam. I have to look as awful as I feel. Cracked ribs, blood still trickling from my mouth, my legs harder to move with every second as muscles refuse to work.
I meet Sam's eyes. I don't think the lights are on anymore. He's out, but still standing. I stop, taking a deep breath, but even that simple thing seems like a chore. I gear up for one more punch, pulling my hand back. I put everything into it and Sam goes down.
The referee rushes to his side now that he's unconscious. I'm only barely awake myself. He takes one look at him and rises to declare me winner.
Then, at last, the audience explodes in applause.
I don't care about any of them. All I can think of is that it's done. Raina and I are free.
It's judgment day, Ricky.
Raina
I can't believe it.
He did it. Lee won. He beat Sam Unbroken.
I've been praying since the beginning of the match. I haven't done this since I was a child. I barely remember how. All I was able to do was cover my eyes and whisper to myself, willing Lee to not give in. And he didn't.
I was wrong, in the end. Going to the match, I thought I wouldn't be able to watch anything that's going on in the cage, but in reality, I couldn't look away. It was too terrible, but I found my eyes fixed on Lee the whole time.
When Sam finally caught him, choking the life from his body, I thought he was a goner. Everyone around me was screaming, cheering. All but Ricky, who was watching with a satisfied smile and Dr. Morris, who winced at every blow. I wonder what it's like for a doctor to watch things like this, when they know how the punches affect the fighters.
I'm not honestly sure what I've been doing for the past twenty minutes or so. I think I've screamed, because my voice is hoarse. The crowd is buzzing loudly. They're welcoming Lee as the champion. He doesn't look like it. To see him barely able to stand is horrible, but it's over, right? We won.
Ricky grabs my hand painfully and begins to push through the audience. None of them are in their seats anymore. Even during the fight, I felt the back rows pushing in, trying to get closer to ringside. It was the first time in my life when I've been grateful for Victor's presence. He didn't let anyone near me, standing behind me like a wall.
Now he's pushing us through a corridor of people. Ricky's hand is like a vise around my arm.
"Let go," I tell Ricky when his hand is seriously starting to hurt me. "Let me go. Lee won. You have to let me go."
He laughs, a bitter sound from his lips.
"Why would you think that?" he snarls, giving me a look that makes me struggle anew.
"I.. Lee said you—" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"Giving you up was never the deal," he says. "He can clear your debt, but you're mine, and there is nothing he can do about that, as I told him weeks ago."
I remember that, yes. I can still hardly believe Lee would accept a deal like that, and would agree to abandon me. But I have to trust that Lee had a plan that Ricky doesn't know about.
I simply let him drag me on, terrified of this going horribly wrong. Lee sounded so certain when he promised me it would be all right. I can't believe that was a lie. I refuse to believe that.
We are finally in the corridors around the arena, where there are less people. Ricky picks up the pace even more, dragging me along despite the pain in my sides. Dr. Morris is urging him to be mindful of my injuries, but I don't think he cares anymore.
"This was a mistake," I hear Ricky grumble to me. "That bastard has filled your mind with nonsense. I hoped seeing him lose would make you see he's just a man, but he somehow tricked Sam. Foul play. I don't know what he did, but if I ever find out—"
"Tricked," says a voice from behind us.
We turn to see Lee. It seems like the victory has made him even taller. His eyes are blazing with fire, his face covered in blood. When he slowly walks toward us, I feel my heartbeat quicken. I never noticed how much bigger he was than Ricky. He towers over him. But Victor is here too and there is a gun in his hand. I struggle against Ricky's grasp, almost throwing myself in the way of another bullet.
"You think I tricked Sam," Lee repeats with deadly calm.
He doesn't look afraid. I don't know if he's even noticed the gun in Victor's hand. Lee stalks closer, paying him no mind. When a man has beaten Sam Unbroken, I guess he is bound not to know fear for a while.
"I think you had help, Mr. Mason," Ricky almost spits at him.
"It was all me," Lee is saying with the same eerie calm. "And now I want what you promised."
I see Ricky grin, pulling me closer against him. I try to push him away, but he doesn't let me go. It's symbolic. Ricky will never let me go.
"If you're talking about Miss Feston's debt," Ricky says. "I'm willing to accept the payment from your victory fund."
"And Susan?" Lee asks.
My heart skips a beat. Susan, he still has Aunt Susan. I can't describe the wave of relief that washes over me when Ricky shrugs.
"If you can keep her quiet, I'll release her. But Miss Feston was not a part of our deal."
I stare into Lee's eyes and know that it's true. Ricky never promised to let me go, as he told me before. Has this all been a ruse? A way to cheer me up before I'm locked away forever? How did Lee plan to free me?
Lee grins. Like a spell, it relaxes me. It's all right. There is something else at play here, but I don't know what.
"She is now," Lee says.
Ricky snorts, backing away with me still in his arms, pulling me along.
"Sam must have given you a good hit against the head, boy," he growls at Lee. "If you think you can take her away from me like this."
Lee steps forward, but suddenly his face drops and he lurches to a halt. The next second, I feel a gun pressed against my temple. Ricky is armed too and I can hear the obsession in his voice again.
"Not another step, Mr. Mason," he snarls. "Or I'll blow her brains out. Don't think I won't. I will not be made a fool. I'd rather see her dead than with someone else. You understand. This is business."
We've lost, despite everything. Lee won the match and I was so certain it would end with that. Now I know Ricky will drag me out of here, hide me away where Lee can never find me.
All of this for nothing.
"You're right," says a voice behind me. "This is business and yours is bad."
Ricky turns around, backing against the corridor wall to see the newcomer. I'm forced to turn with him. There is a man standing behind us with a bunch of guys looking as threatening as Victor. For a long second I expect Victor to shoot, but for some reason he's lowered his gun. And looking at Ricky, I see naked surprise playing on his face.
What the hell is going on here?"
"Jack," Ricky growls. "This is between me and them."
"Not anymore," says the other guy, the one he calls Jack.
He doesn't appear afraid of Ricky, not one bit. It also doesn't seem to move him that Ricky has a gun to my head. He stands at ease, as if nothing weird is going on at all. I don't know why, but I immediately take him for a guy who's been held at gunpoint before and who is no longer impressed.
I wish I had that confidence. I'm not used to being in such danger. I think every second is going to be my last and even Ricky's smallest movement makes me wince. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lee stare at Ricky with fury I didn't once see on his face during the match.
"This is a complicated situation," Ricky snaps at the new guy. "One that includes the woman I love."
"I'm aware of the situation," the man says coldly. "Lee explained it. And the woman you love... interesting way to show your affection, holding her at gunpoint. I understand she wants to leave you."
I can hear Ricky growl. I can feel his finger twitching on the trigger.
He's going to do it, flashes through my head. Rather than let me go, rather than be made a fool, he's taking me down with him.