Caged Love: MMA Contemporary Suspense (Book Two)

by Thunderbolt, Liberty

  She looked up at him and a streak of embarrassment coursed through him. She unfolded her smooth perfectly sculpted legs and tossed the pillow on the couch. He watched as she stood and made her way towards him.

  His throat tightened as he looked up at her.

  “You seem like a good guy,” she leaned down and placed her hand on his muscular shoulder. Electricity shot through him at the touch of her skin on his. Their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze for a long beat. He wanted to know what she was thinking. Did she feel the same electricity?

  Finally, she leaned down and softly planted her lips on his rough cheek. He reached up and slid his hand around her arm. Her lips were like sunshine on a field of flowers and he wanted to taste them again.

  He tilted his head and she leaned back. Once again they were so close together. He moved towards her. Their lips touched briefly, but then she backed away. He pleaded with his eyes. She paused for a long moment. Bretten lifted his lips to meet hers once again.

  She felt the electricity just like him. The touch of his lips made it shoot through her. She wanted him badly, but then she remembered her past and why she was here. She pulled away, the wanting look on her face fading. “You’d better get some sleep. Saturdays are a chance to train on your own, but they still turn into tough workouts.”

  She moved her hand and began to walk away.

  “Brooke?”

  She turned around. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

  In a second she was gone, down the hall and to her room. He was lost in the brief kiss when he felt another hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Tristan glaring down at him. “I see what you’re doing, and you’d better fucking stop if you know what’s good for you.” He poked Bretten on the jaw and disappeared into the darkness before Bretten had a chance to respond.

  Bretten seethed and realized that he wanted to get Tristan in the cage.

  Chapter Eight

  Bear glanced at the faded sign. It welcomed him to Enid and boasted that the wheat field surrounded town was home of Vance Air Force Base. He barely had time to read it. He was going twenty miles per hour over the speed limit in the rented Ford Fusion. Bear’s breakfast consisted of three cups of coffee and he estimated he was only about five miles from being in serious need of a restroom. Fortunately he only had about three miles to go.

  His red eyes burned from the previous evening. He arrived at the Skirvin, had a drink from the mini-bar in his room, and then met with the Champions of the Cage promoter. After an hour at a quiet table in the bar, Bear was satisfied he’d gotten one of his fighters on COTC’s next fight card and the deal turned out better than he’d hoped. The two parted ways in the hotel parking lot and Bear made the walk into Bricktown. The Oklahoma City night offered a slight north wind and the temperature hovered around forty degrees, colder than Las Vegas, but not terrible.

  His hands were thrust in his jacket pockets as he walked, except when he fielded phone call from a promoter and another from one of his fighters. He trudged passed the Bricktown Ballpark, home to the Oklahoma Redhawks. Then dodged a horse drawn carriage, crossed the bridge over the man-made canal and settled in at Toby Keith’s bar and grill. The famous Country singing Oklahoman was known to show up from time to time, Bear wasn’t so lucky.

  The atmosphere was unique, the scenery appealing. Plus, the beer turned out to be equivalent to Marshall’s. These variables kept Bear in his seat longer than he planned. He didn’t get back to the Skirvin until midnight and found himself in its bar talking with a couple of burly, beer-bellied high school football coaches. Both were beyond drunk and certainly full of themselves, but looked at Bear with a little reverence when he told them what he did. And naturally one of them said, “I’m sure I could kick some of those UCC guys’ asses. I wrastled until the ninth grade and got in my fair share of fights in high school.”

  The other said, “Shit Bart, I could kick your ass.”

  Bear calmed them down before they started wrastling right there in the hotel bar. The football coaches decided to head to a strip club. It was a little past one so Bear called it a night.

  Now with the morning sun assaulting his eyes, the rented Fusion hit the lights just right and Bear found himself at his turn at five minutes after ten o’clock. He told Tristan and Brooke he’d be there around eleven and noticed that Taco Mayo had just opened. His stomach rumbled and he figured tacos and a toilet were exactly what he needed.

  At fifteen minutes to eleven he wedged in behind a nice Ford F250, eyed himself in the rear view mirror and put on his best game face. He snatched his laptop and after a few carefully placed steps on the gray, uneven alley, found himself at the threshold of the gym. It read Fighters Only. Bear knew damn well that he fit the bill. He paused for a moment and rolled his shoulders.

  The back door caught. He gave it an extra shove and it broke free of its sticking point. The sounds and smells of the gym hit him. Bear loved them and wished he wasn’t so old and broken. Doc sat at his desk, fingers dancing on the keyboard. “Hey Doc, anything exciting going on around this dump?” Bear shoved his meaty hand across the desk.

  Doc took the hand. “Mr. Haynes, good to see you, oh you know same old, same old.”

  The two chatted for a few minutes. It had been over a month since they last saw each other in Vegas at the last UCC event.

  Finally Bear said, “How’s the new recruits?”

  “Cortez is solid, a little more experienced and fairly technical. Maris is raw, athletic, and a fast learner. Both of them work hard.”

  “You know if anybody else is interested in them?”

  “Not that I know.”

  Bear was happy to hear it. There were a lot of fast-talking, high-flying agents out there. He passed the locker rooms and tried to make his skewed gait appear tall and confident.

  Even on a Saturday the gym was alive with action. Three fighters worked on heavy bags, all with tennis balls tucked under their chins as a reminder to keep their heads down. Bobby Newcomb and Darnell Woods rolled around on the wrestling mat, two men were in the cage, and a handful of fighters lifted weights. Bear nodded and waved to Newcomb and Woods as he scooted in front of the row of grappling dummies. In his head he cursed Kevin Markmiller. He desperately tried to sign them and thought he had, until Kevin stole them right out from under his nose. He’d never let the fighters know his disdain because he was just waiting for the day when Markmiller rubbed one of them wrong. Good ‘ole Bear would be there to snatch them up.

  Bear spotted Bretten and Rodrigo lifting weights in one of the power racks, but before he made his way over he stopped and chatted with Whit. “Hey Coach, how’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain Bear, how bout yourself?”

  “Busy, but the good kind of busy. How are the new guys looking?”

  “I’m really pleased with their progress. Rodrigo is solid with his technique. Bretten is full of athleticism and he wants to learn.”

  “That’s great to hear. When I sign them I’ll get them some great fights.”

  “You’d better. I could see both of them competing in the UCC soon.”

  “You can count on me, Whit. I’m going to go say hi.”

  After introductions, Bretten and Rodrigo needed fifteen minutes to finish their strength training, and Bear needed just as long to get set up for the meeting.

  The small room came equipped with the latest in technology and was used to watch video of opponents as well as review one’s own strengths and weaknesses. It was perfect for Bear and he expertly set up his laptop. He was amazed at how easily he adapted to the firestorm of new gadgets. He grew up in a physical world, one that was near void of technology. But once he decided to learn it came easy for him and he loved it.

  Rodrigo pushed through the door first, followed by Bretten. Bear realized the next thirty minutes or so could be a turning point in his career. He thought Cortez was UCC material and who knew, one or two big wins might put him in the mix at middleweight. And Maris only had fiv
e wins against one loss, but Bear had a hunch he was destined to become one of the best welterweights in the game. And to top it off, Whit just confirmed his suspicions about both men.

  “I’m glad you guys were interested in meeting with me,” Bear said. “I trust Brooke and Tristan filled you in on how I operate.”

  Actually they had. Brooke told Bretten he was instrumental in landing her two decent sponsorships and almost doubling her fighter purses. And the night of the gauntlet at Ben’s Bar Tristan and Rodrigo talked extensively about agents. He had good things to say about Bear, but also hoped he could win a few more big fights and then jump ship to Markmiller. He’d said that Markmiller was high profile. Bear was adequate, but didn’t live the life of a big time agent. Whatever the hell that meant.

  “Yes, we’ve heard good things,” Bretten said. “But you know we want to see for ourselves.”

  Rodrigo nodded in agreement and Bear grabbed hold of the opening. “I was hoping you would. Take a look at this.”

  He tapped his keyboard a few times and his monitor projected onto the wall. Rodrigo clicked off the lights, and on the screen was what appeared to be a web site, BrettenMaris.com. The top of the page showed a picture of Bretten, arms in the air after winning one of his earlier fights. To either side was an impressive list of sponsors. Below his name in bold letters it read UCC’s Welterweight Champion. The page was also filled with links, his biography, statistics, training, and even a forum for Bretten Maris fans.

  Nobody said a word. They all just took it in for a minute. Bear was busting inside. Once the meeting was scheduled he got his website builder, McGee Orton on the phone. They reserved the domain names and worked for hours, Bear in his two bedroom apartment and McGee in whatever hovel he lived, to put together the framework of Bretten’s and Rodrigo’s websites. Definitely Bear would’ve rather been at Marshall’s sipping a cold one and shooting the breeze, but decided to take the more studious route. As he looked from the image on the wall to the faces of Bretten and Rodrigo he knew it was a wise decision.

  “This is what I can do for you Mr. Maris,” he finally said. “Sponsorships, exposure, big fights, and a whole lot more. I can guarantee you will only get the best deals for each fight and I will bust my ass to ensure you get the fights that are best for you. Also, you will never have to worry about getting screwed over by a promoter, have to worry about reading through a fight contract with a fine-tooth comb. All that will be my job. Your job will simply be to kick ass and shake hands and take pictures with a lot of fans. By the way, I registered your domain name. BrettenMaris.com is yours whether you sign with me or not.”

  Bretten immediately thought of how nervous he felt going into the Courage and Heart Fighting Championships. He was uninformed on almost all accounts. Now here was this guy offering him the world, it seemed too good to be true. He was coming off a loss for God sake. He was busting inside as well, but wanted to play it cool. “Pretty nice Mr. Haynes—”

  “Please, call me Bear.”

  “Okay Bear, it looks like you’ve done this a few times,” Bretten said with a smile.

  “Thank you, Bretten. Mr. Cortez would you like to take a look at your site?”

  Rodrigo had been involved with his fair share of agent types when his two novels were flying off the shelves. And he knew that Bear was trying his hardest to be a salesman. Nonetheless, he was interested in seeing his site, especially since he knew RodrigoCortez.com was taken. He still frequented the site regularly to chat up his books.

  “Yeah, I’d like to take a look.”

  Bear clicked a few more keys and Bretten Maris gave way to Rodrigo Cortez, “I had to register yours as HotRodrigoCortez.com, seems your name was already taken since you’re a big time author.” Bear smiled.

  Rodrigo’s site was similar to Bretten’s, but it also included a banner advertising his books, and the homepage was peppered with Bruce Lee quotes.

  Rodrigo was impressed, not because of the appearance, but because of the little details, like his favorite Bruce Lee quote, Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water...obviously Bear had done his homework.

  Rodrigo knew that Bretten was excited about talking to an agent, but he on the other hand was not. He was doing fine on his own. He was 13-3. Sure he didn’t have any big sponsors and his biggest purse came a few weeks ago in Korea, a measly two million won, or roughly two thousand dollars, but he was in the sport because of passion, not for money. Besides, he still received royalty checks that kept him fed just fine, although recently they had been steadily decreasing.

  Now as he rested against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, his convictions wavered. Maybe an agent offered him the opportunity to focus only on fighting, making his passion that much more lucrative. “I really like it. You’ve done a hell of a job. Now can we hear about the financial side of the house?”

  Rodrigo flipped on the lights and the men gathered around the table. Bear purposely left HotRodrigoCortez.com on the wall, faded by the florescent lights but still a constant reminder of what could be if only they would agree to let him make it happen.

  The men sat around the table and Bear got down to talking about sponsorships and percentages. After five minutes he was sure he had them, but suggested they grab Tristan and Brooke and go to lunch. They could get to know each other better.

  Bretten and Rodrigo agreed. Bear remained professional even though he knew he was about to land a couple of talented young fighters. He couldn’t wait to tell Marshall all about it. He could taste the cold beer now and was counting the money in his head, but decided he’d better not order any beer during lunch, professional all the way on this trip. He could celebrate when they signed on the dotted line.

  Three hours later that is exactly what they did, and Bear resolved to make Bretten Maris and Rodrigo Cortez stars.

  Chapter Nine

  Doc said over the noise, “Alright everyone, let's get started.”

  The dozen or so men found their way to their makeshift seats and settled down. “Welcome everybody, Jed, Marty good to see you guys again.”

  “Thanks Doc, it's been a while.”

  Doc continued. “Also, I'd like to introduce everyone to Bretten Maris and Rodrigo Cortez, two of our newest fighters, both with bright futures.”

  Nods and welcomes were exchanged as Bretten and Rodrigo sat side by side on the floor with their back against the padded wall.

  “Since we have a couple of new guys and a few that have been away for a while, let me remind everybody that this is simply an informal way to exchange ideas and promote camaraderie. Nobody's going to judge you for your thoughts...or lack thereof.”

  The men chuckled at the comment and Doc took a sip of his coffee. “Anyway, you know I like to start things off with a broad topic or question and then we can just let the conversation take its course.”

  The Thursday morning group was held every other Thursday and usually headed by Doc. The sun was barely showing in the eastern sky and both young fighters were seriously missing their last hour of sleep.

  It was yesterday when Doc told them about the group. Both thought it was a weird thing for a bunch of fighters, but respected Doc and liked hearing his stories.

  Now the men sat sleepy-eyed and in their workout clothes. As soon as this was over they’d commence their daily training. Their life had become a march to the tune of striking hands and feet and contorted bodies, with the destination uncompromising combat. This hour or so of talk might prove a needed break from their now singular purpose.

  Brooke, Whit, and Tristan were doing appearances in New Jersey and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Only a couple other fighters from the house were present, Brooke’s roommate Marita Harris, and Matt Millsap. He was something like a ghost. Even though he lived a floor below Bretten and Rodrigo, they barely knew him. He showed up every morning and trained ferociously, then crossed the alley, spoke minimally as he grabbed dinner, and headed to his room. For all Bretten knew he was building a bomb in
there.

  “China, Japan, North Africa, South Africa, Europe, all over the United States, Central America, Thailand, just a few of the places I’ve been,” Doc said. “And at each I dove into something out of the ordinary, something that most people would never consider. Often I wondered why I spent my life in such a fashion and what always comes up...I was searching...searching for some kind of meaning by placing myself in extraordinary circumstances, as if those experiences would somehow heighten my understanding.

  “Maybe they did offer some enlightenment, but I finally realized that the one constant throughout all those experiences was me. I didn’t need all those adventures to determine my worth. So in some ways I stopped searching, but then again look at my life now. It’s certainly not ordinary. Did I really stop searching just because I’m not bouncing around to exotic places? And are others searching? And if so, for what?”

  “I know I’ve barely ever been out of Enid,” Jed said, “was only in one fight in junior high, and live a pretty boring life as an insurance salesman. But I’m always looking for stability and security. You guys might look at my life and think there is no way it is unstable, I feel like it is. I have a kid on his way to college, a mortgage, and business comes and goes. So sometimes I feel out of control and I’ve never been to Africa or China or any of those other places you mentioned, Doc. I can’t even fathom going to those places.”

  “You’re no different than the rest of us, Jed,” Millsap said. “Just human nature, we’re all curious and scared. Curious to know and scared to death of what we’ll learn. That’s why I chose fighting. It strips away everything else, forces you to look at yourself without any pretenses. It makes everything real.”

  Bretten and Rodrigo gave each other sideways glances. They were shocked to hear the un-talkative Millsap provide such interesting thoughts...hell maybe he really was building bombs, or something else even more sinister, in his room.