by Jenika Snow
The heat from the main floor slammed into her like a wall, and she wiped her forehead again. It took her a moment to take that first step toward the packed dance floor. She made her way forward, and just as she passed an adjoining hallway, a flash of white against the black backdrop caught her attention.
She stopped midstride and peeked around the corner. The hallway was empty aside from a massive man with coal-black hair disappearing behind a door. It couldn’t be him, could it? It sure looked like Kash, but what in the hell was he doing here, of all places?
The smart thing to do would have been to turn around and go back to the bachelorette party, but curiosity had Tristan walking toward that door. She kept telling herself it couldn’t be him, but another part of her swore it was. The door she now stood in front of, the same one the Kash lookalike had gone through, was tattered and scarred steel. She pulled open the heavy metal and stepped through. It was another long hallway, this one several degrees cooler than the one she’d just left. There were people down this one, couples that were sporadically placed and dry humping the fuck out of each other.
There were only two doors down this hallway, and one of them was an exit. He could’ve gone through that one, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he had slipped behind the door that housed a mean-looking bouncer in front of it. There was no way she would be able to get by that bouncer. Hell, he looked like he was itching to beat someone’s ass, and she wasn’t going to be that someone. Just as she turned around to go back out the door she’d come through, a female voice stopped her.
“You here for the show? Come on, we don’t want to miss it.” Tristan turned around and looked into a pair of big brown eyes. Where the hell had she come from? Before she could ask what the hell was going on, the young woman had her by the hand and was leading her toward the door guarded by the behemoth.
“I’m glad I don’t have to go in there alone. I always feel like they are watching me.” The girl smiled brightly. Tristan could practically feel her excitement, yet she couldn’t bring herself to ask her where they were going.
“My boyfriend is going to be there tonight, part of the main event.” She all but jumped up and down.
“The main event?”
The girl nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’m just glad I didn’t miss it. Oh boy, would he have been pissed.” She smiled again and stopped in front of the door. The beast of a man stared down at the two of them, and Tristan felt herself shrink from his gaze. His skin was as dark as night, yet his eyes were an eerie blue color.
Tristan listened to the girl ramble off something, never once taking her eyes off the man. She was too confused by what was going on to even understand what the pixie of a woman had said. Whatever it had been pleased the bouncer, because he nodded once and opened the door for them. A set of stairs was revealed, and Tristan was all but dragged down them by the woman.
“Oh my God. I can practically feel the rush. Can you feel it?” She turned big eyes toward Tristan. All she could do was nod. “Yeah, this is making me so wet.” It was clear the woman didn’t have a filter. The farther they descended, the louder a noise became. Tristan couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was like a bass. When they reached the bottom, the girl turned to her once more.
“Ready?”
The bass and thumping noise was right behind that door. She should just run back up the stairs. Whatever was behind that door was buried in the bowels of this building and required security so only a select few could enter. Saying no would have been wise, but Tristan found herself nodding instead. The woman smiled brightly and pushed the door open.
14
Tristan felt her eyes widen at the mass of people on the other side of the door. The girl still had ahold of her hand and started making her way through the thick sea of bodies. That loud bass-like noise had been the shouting and cheering of everyone in this room. It was lit brightly, and the closer they got to the center, realization set in. A crude caged ring was constructed in the middle of the basement.
The people surrounded it, beers and liquor in their hands, and drunk, excited expressions covering their faces. Off to the side was an equally crude bar where the fans were buying their liquor and getting drunker by the second.
The girl stopped a few feet from the cage and shouted loudly, “Oh yeah, come on, Jackson, kick some ass.” She grinned at Tristan. “Pretty exciting, huh?”
Tristan didn’t know much about fighting, but she knew one thing. This was a freaking illegal cage fight.
“Any minute now, my baby will come walking out those doors.” She pointed to a door in the far corner. “He’s been training day and night. This fight will make his career.”
“Career?” These people made careers out of beating the shit out of each other?
The girl gave her an incredulous look. “Um, yeah, hello. If he wins tonight, he’ll be set for life.” She bit her lip and looked slightly nervous. “The guy he is fighting is pretty hard-core, though. A real badass, if you know what I mean.”
No, Tristan didn’t know what she meant.
“Are you motherfuckers ready for the fight of the year?”
Tristan winced at the loud voice. She looked around the room but couldn’t pinpoint where the voice came from. The crowd went wild, deafeningly wild. Tristan’s ears rang, and she forced herself not to cover her ears. She would definitely look out of place then.
This was why these people came here, to be shocked. The noise, the atmosphere, all of it got their juices flowing, got them hard and aroused. Hell, the girl still holding on to her hand had confirmed as much.
Tristan looked around the packed room, wondering if she would see Kash. She had sworn it was him, but she knew the odds of Kash being here were pretty slim.
“We have a contender with the hopes of winning the title tonight. Do you think this underdog can succeed?” The crowd booed. The girl holding Tristan’s hand shouted and hollered and screamed. “Let’s give some love to Jackson, the pretty boy.”
Finally the girl released her hand and started jumping up and down, waving her hands in the air. “Come on, baby, show them you ain’t no pussy.”
Common sense told Tristan now would be a good time to leave, but curiosity and a twisted desire to see what would happen next had her feet rooted to the spot. A tall, athletically built man stepped out of the door. He was shirtless, and Tristan was impressed with his lean, muscled abdomen. He lifted his hands in the air, grinning at the booing crowd, and made his way to the ring. He climbed a set of steps, and a woman clad in what Tristan supposed was meant to be a bikini opened the cage door for him. Once inside he started jumping up and down on the balls of his feet.
“That’s my man. That’s my Jackson.” The girl looked over at Tristan and beamed. Tristan couldn’t help but smile at the adoration and pride reflected on the girl’s face. “Come on, baby!”
“His reputation precedes him from the East, and if you haven’t heard of how legendary he is, you’ve been living under a fucking rock. You know him as unbeatable, but will Pretty Boy be able to take away his title?” The crowd went batshit crazy, and Tristan did cover her ears then. “Let’s welcome the one, the only, the motherfucking Champion!”
Roars, cheers, and curses rang throughout the room. All at once people started pushing, trying to get closer to the cage. Tristan was shoved farther back, and with her hand now free from the bouncy girl, she had nothing to keep her rooted to her spot. The roar of the crowd got louder, if possible, and she knew whoever the Champion was, he had just made his appearance.
Standing on her toes, which proved a harder task than she thought given the heels she wore, Tristan looked over the heads of the men and women in front of her. It was no use. Her position, coupled with her short stature, even with the damn heels on, made it impossible to see a damn thing until he entered the raised cage.
She felt the tendrils of excitement and anticipation weave through her. Sweat bloomed between her breasts, and her heart raced. Was this the thrill everyone had, or w
as it just the oppressive heat in the room?
Looking around at the people surrounding her, seeing their flushed faces, hearing their rude phrases, and smelling the scent of arousal and sweat, Tristan knew they felt it, too.
An opening off to the side, much closer to the front, caught her eye, and she hastily pushed her way through the people to get to it. She had no clue why she wanted such a close seat to the violence that was sure to transpire, but as her heart beat in time with the shouting and the adrenaline now pumping through her veins, Tristan couldn’t help herself.
When she reached the opening, a few people had already clambered in front of her. The gap between their bodies gave her a prime shot of Jackson, but she had yet to see this Champion that the announcer kept praising. A flash of dark hair off to the side caught her eye, and she craned her neck to try and make him out. It was still no use. When she went to the left, so did the people in front of her, and when she shuffled to the right, they followed suit.
Tristan had since gotten accustomed to the noise, but as the people stomped their feet in unison, the room seemed to vibrate and pulse around her. That was when he finally climbed the steps to the cage and came into her view. When the shirtless, dark-haired contender stepped into the cage, Tristan’s mouth dropped open. No fucking way.
Kash stood in front of Jackson, his stance the complete opposite of his opponent. His back was to her now, and the dark swirls and lines of his tattoos made him seem even more menacing. Women beside her swooned and cheered for him, making crude comments about what else might be tattooed.
She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell just from his body language that he was calm, like the weather right before a storm. When her mind started putting the facts together, it all made sense. The late-night job, the intensity about him, the way he knew how to throw a punch. Although seeing him here was somewhat of a surprise, Tristan wasn’t shocked.
A part of her brain had considered this was where she would find him. She’d thought she saw him duck behind that door, after all, and seeing him here, in the flesh, mere feet from her, Tristan knew that she had seen correctly.
So many questions slammed into her mind, questions that she doubted Kash would be willing to answer. As she watched with rapt attention the two men so close, yet so far away, she suddenly felt very nervous. In her heart she knew she had nothing to fear. Kash had proven himself an experienced fighter when he had taken Max on, but Jackson was not Max. Jackson knew what he was doing, had trained for this. The dark, controlled look on Jackson’s countenance put the fear of God into her.
Jackson cracked his knuckles and started bouncing on the balls of his feet again, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Kash. She could see Jackson’s lips moving, but with all the noise she had no idea what he said. Was he goading Kash? If Jackson was smart, he wouldn’t dare. Tristan had seen firsthand the wrath that was Kash, and as she looked around at all the screaming people, she had a feeling they had seen it, too.
How many times did he do this a week? Was he getting into fights every time he was away, or was he training? She should have turned and left, because heaven knew she honestly didn’t want to see this, especially if Kash got hurt, but her feet stayed cemented.
“Quiet down, you heathens.” The announcer’s voice boomed around her once again, and everyone somewhat quieted. “The rules are simple. There are none.” The crowd erupted, and Tristan winced at the noise.
The two fighters stayed locked, not moving. Hell, she didn’t even think they breathed. There was no bell being rung like in boxing to let the fighters know it was time. After the announcer said that last word, they went after each other. Jackson was smaller than Kash, in stature and weight, but he was quick, damn quick.
While Jackson bounced around, his fists up, Kash just stood there, looking calm. He had since shifted, and Tristan could now see his face. Stone-cold concentration marred his expression. She was taken aback by how handsome he was.
Jackson lunged for Kash, bringing his fist toward his face in hope of getting a punch in. Kash anticipated the move and stepped out of the way. Jackson turned around quickly and started swinging. It was like Kash knew his moves. He successfully blocked each one and slammed his own fist into the young man’s face, side, kidneys, anywhere and everywhere. Blood started to pour out of Jackson’s nose from Kash’s last hit, yet the man she shared her home with seemed unfazed.
How long has he been doing this that he doesn’t even react to the blood and violence?
Back and forth they danced a dangerous tango, and Tristan could see Jackson’s form starting to waver. This fighting wasn’t like the UFC she had seen a few times on TV. This was so much more raw and unhinged. Jackson’s moves were now sloppy and uncoordinated, and he was starting to sway on his feet. His fists connected with the air more times than not, and she knew he wouldn’t make it much longer.
Blood poured from his nose and mouth, and a nasty black eye was forming. He looked like someone had beat the shit out of him and he was hanging on by a thread. In the distance, amid the yells and shouts, Tristan could hear his girlfriend shouting for him, encouraging him.
Tristan could only shake her head. She didn’t know much about fighting, but Jackson was not going to win. That was painfully clear.
Everything seemed to slow at what she knew were the final seconds. Kash took a step back, reared his heavily muscled arm, and brought his fist to the side of Jackson’s face. The young man spun before slamming face-first onto the ground. Blood splattered out of his mouth and coated the mat like a grisly murder scene.
Oh my God.
Was he alive? Did she just witness Kash kill someone? Cold dread settled within her as she stared at Jackson and then looked back at Kash.
Blood coated his chest, but she knew it wasn’t his. He didn’t have one mark on him. She turned her attention back to Jackson and saw several people checking his pulse and then rolling him over. They started applying ice and a compression to his face, and she knew he would be all right. His girlfriend ran into the cage, and no one stopped her. Tears streamed down her face as she ran her hands over his body.
Tristan let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it in. When her eyes went back to Kash, she was startled by his expression. Although he wasn’t looking at anyone or anything in particular, she could see the cold detachment on his face. A minute passed and then he took the back of his hand and ran it over his check, smearing the blood that had splattered there.
A man with a wide grin came up to him and handed him a thickly padded envelope and slammed him on the back. Tristan wasn’t a fool. She knew that was his winnings. He had a wad of cash from almost killing someone. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling light-headed. His expression as he stared at the money, at Jackson, and the crowd was something akin to heartlessness.
It didn’t seem like him, not the man that she watched movies with, not the man she laughed with, not the man she so desperately desired. A wave of arousal slammed into her so hard she sucked in a lungful of air. She had to get out of here. This wasn’t right, he wasn’t right, and her desire most certainly wasn’t right.
Turning on her heel, she started shoving people out of her way. Tristan gasped for air, suddenly feeling so claustrophobic. A hand on her arm stopped her, and she stared into a pair of drunken black eyes.
“Hey, baby. The fight’s over, but if you’re still up for a little fun—” He waggled his eyebrows, and a wave of disgust slammed into her.
She shook her head and yanked her arm so hard out of his grasp he stumbled back and spilled his beer. A cloud of anger slashed across his face as he looked at the beer that coated his shoes.
“You fucking bitch.” He took a step toward her, but before he could touch her, someone locked a hand on his shoulder and tossed him effortlessly to the ground.
Steeling herself, Tristan turned her gaze to whoever stood beside her. She knew who it was even before she locked her gaze onto dark green eyes. Her breath sawed in and ou
t of her, and she took in his appearance.
Up close he was frightening. The blood, the sweat, all of it solidified her fear, her need to escape, but most of all her arousal.
“What in the hell are you doing here, Tristan?” Kash’s voice was low, almost deadly. He looked around the room and shook his head. He placed his hand against her arm, but she yanked it back.
She was too frightened of what was happening. She shouldn’t want him like this, covered in crimson, smelling incredibly good, and looking like he could take her right there, in front of everyone.
“Tristan.”
The way he said her name, low, heated, full of confusion and need, did wicked things to her body. Disgust with herself slammed into her. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. What sane person ached for a man covered in blood? Before she could say anything, two large-bosomed females sidled up to Kash.
As he stared down at her, Tristan thought she might have seen a wave of sympathy or sorrow, but she had to be imagining it. The man before her was like steel, hard, unmoving, and certainly knowing nothing of uncertainty.
“Tristan.”
He could say her name all he wanted to. She didn’t want to hear it. All she wanted was to get the hell out of there. As swarms of people came up to him, commenting on the fight and congratulating him, Tristan darted away, through the crowd, and up the stairs. She ran like he was chasing her, yet she knew he had let her go. Oh God. How could she do this?
She couldn’t tell Kylie, could she? Did her best friend already know? Did it even matter? Conflicting emotions washed through her. She wanted him. He disgusted her. She feared his power.
She needed that power dominating her.
* * *
It took everything in Kash not to chase after Tristan. Despite the people starting to swarm around him, congratulating him on the fight, Kash could have easily pushed them away to get to her. Damn! What in the hell is she doing here?
