Caged Love: MMA Contemporary Suspense (Book Two)

by Thunderbolt, Liberty

Bretten prepared to begin again, but Tristan let out a low growl and pounced. The loss of control was so complete and so unexpected that Bretten didn’t have time to defend himself. Tristan’s right hand crashed into Bretten’s ear, then his left hit his jaw. A brutal elbow just missed his eye and then another caught his chin. He heard yelling, screaming, but didn’t know its origin. It could have come from Tristan or from those diving into the one-sided fray.

  Whit slammed into Tristan’s side and locked his arms around the man. As Holmes was forced off of Bretten he even managed to throw his foot up and catch him in the neck with a weak kick. Tristan struggled wildly and the wrestling mat was in total chaos.

  “I fucking told you this would happen you bitch,” Tristan yelled.

  Bretten clambered to his feet, dizzy and bleeding from the attack. Others had stopped training and headed toward the insanity. Bretten lunged at Tristan, ready to return the favor, but Brooke and Rodrigo grabbed him and forced him toward the back of the gym.

  Whit had Tristan wrapped in a body triangle. “Settle down!”

  His heaving chest slowed. His eyes cleared. “I’m alright, I’m fine, just let go of me.”

  “You sure? You’re not going to do anything stupid?”

  “I’m good. Just get the hell off me.”

  Whit loosened the hold and Tristan wobbled to his feet. Nobody knew what to say. He glared at the group. “I’m sick of this shit, all of it!” and headed for the locker room door.

  Newcomb’s face was boiling red, his fists were clenched and he started after Tristan “That’s jacked up Holmes. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Shut up, Newcomb, you’re the biggest idiot of them all.”

  Newcomb picked up his pace and was about to catch Tristan when Brooke stepped in front of him. He almost ran her straight into the ground. “Just let him go.”

  He glowered at her and saw both pleading and determination. “Fine, but he’d better not show his face around me for a while.”

  Whit cut the session short and everyone gathered around the cage. “Look guys, this doesn’t excuse Tristan,” Brooke said, “but he’s going through a rough time. He’d probably be pissed if he knew I was telling you this, but remember that appearance and photo shoot we went to awhile ago. Well, he stopped at his dad’s afterwards and found out that he was really sick.”

  “But wasn’t Scott still training people not long ago?” Darnell asked. “And what do you mean really sick?”

  “He was training off and on, stopped coaching altogether about six months ago. We’re talking real bad, like they don’t know how much longer he’s going to make it.”

  Woods again. “Dang man, that sucks. Were you with Tristan when he found out, I mean you grew up with them, right? Scott was kind of like your second dad.”

  “No, I wasn’t. Scott and I had a falling out over the last few years, but Tristan told me all about it. He’d had his own troubles with his dad, but still he’s been pretty broken up. He just didn’t want to tell anyone.”

  Bretten had recovered fine. “Well maybe that explains it. It looked to me like something inside of him just exploded. Not surprising if he’s carrying all that around.”

  The group agreed and the sour mood slowly began to lift, replaced by the familiar tension which seeped into every crevice of the gym. Whit was right, they were all in it together, they all marched toward a harsh destination and an explosion of unprovoked violence couldn’t get in the way of the business of fighting. Before long they were all preparing for another training session.

  As Bretten regrouped he thought about Tristan. He knew this was about more than his dad. It was about Brooke as well. He had to find out what happened between her and Tristan.

  Chapter 16

  Dana Murphy, in a red dress with gold buttons, hair pulled back in an efficient pony tail, searched for the file while she talked to Jill on the intra-office phone line at Cranston, Jones & Associates. When she answered and heard Jill’s voice she rolled her eyes.

  “Hi Dana, I need to get a file for a Mr. Neilson, I think it may be over with you. He also does business with Mr. Winstatt.”

  Dana liked Jill okay, but the girl was tall, attractive, with long red hair, and would rather gossip and complain than do her work. Yet she managed to get along just fine. “Give me a minute Jill. I’ll walk it over when I find it.”

  Jill was only a hundred steps away, and Dana was thankful she was too lazy to make the walk and ask for the file in person. Face to face she might never get rid of her.

  “Oh no problem, I’ll just wait on the line to make sure you have it. I’m not sure if it is even over there.”

  “Alright, let me see here...” Dana thumbed through her file cabinets and would have found it quickly if Jill didn’t distract her.

  “Did you know that Deborah got a promotion?” Jill asked. “I mean I don’t think that is right, she’s probably doing something with somebody if you know what I mean. If anybody deserved a promotion it was me...or you...I mean I’m not implying you would do anything with any of the bosses.”

  “I know what you meant,” Dana said. “Okay, it looks like I have it here, Mr. Jeffrey Neilson, that it?”

  “That’s the one. You are such a lifesaver. Oh I was going to ask, what do you think of the new coffee? I’m not very fond of it. Apparently Deborah found it, some kind of German coffee, I didn’t even know they made coffee in Germany.”

  Dana searched for a way to edge into the conversation so she could end it. And then she saw them. “Oh Shit.”

  “I’m sorry, what was that? Awschit, is that a German coffee too, sounds German? I’ll have to buy it to show that winch Deborah what real coffee is—”

  “Gotta go Jill,” Dana hastily hung up the phone.

  It had been a while since the men last visited. Dana hoped she would never see either of them again. Now here they were striding directly toward her, both wearing nasty smirks on their ugly faces. The blonde’s hair, she’d figured out his name was Eck, was short, spiky and filled with grease. She could see his pale scalp through the light-colored sharp strands. The other one, Dean, wasn’t ashamed of his scalp a bit. It was free for the world to look upon and he looked back through narrow, hateful eyes.

  She started to call Mr. Winstatt and let him know these aggressive jerks were back, but realized they would be at her desk before she would get him on the line. Her breath grew rapid and short and her palms instantly sweaty. She stood and collected herself ready to do battle. She reminded herself, I’m no fly at a picnic.

  “Look who it is,” Eck said, “our little ray of sunshine.”

  “Gentlemen, I am sure that you do not have an appointment with Mr. Winstatt today, and despite what you said last time it is imperative that you sched—”

  “We don’t have time for it today.” Dean cut her off. “We know we don’t have an appointment. Now sit down before you bite off more than you can chew.”

  Dana’s breath caught in her throat. There was something distinctly different about these men today. An image of hungry wolves on the hunt shot through her imagination. Last time they made her uneasy. This time she was downright scared. She did as Dean said. She loved her job and even cared for Mr. Winstatt, but realized she couldn’t help him with this one.

  Harold Winstatt hung up the phone and cursed under his breath. “Son of a bitch I needed that client.”

  He needed every client, particularly the big ones. His door being ripped open without warning shook him out of thoughts of lost clients and shifted it to something much more personal. Eck and Dean were able to do that to people, make them consider their well-being and if it would last. And now they made their way to his desk.

  Harold reacted differently than most by pushing to his feet and meeting the men head on. “Dammit, I’m doing what I’m supposed to and I told you not to come here.” Neither man said a word. “Well, didn’t I? I’m tired of this, tired of all of it. I’m working on getting Mr. Smith the rest of his fucking money.�
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  Eck’s stare shifted from complacent to utter disdain in an instant. “Sit down you fucking sorry piece of shit.”

  Harold looked at Eck in dismay, then Dean said, “You are a dumb man Harry. Running your mouth to Mr. Smith and now to us,” as he talked he took a step around the desk.

  Harold thought about the day on his boat. He didn’t think he’d been that rude to Smith, but he’d obviously pissed him off. In any event, he didn’t want Dean forcing him into his seat, so he sat down heavily. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. What do you two want...besides the rest of the money?”

  “We want you to come with us right now,” Dean said.

  “What, why?”

  “Because Mr. Smith said.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Who knows what you might try to do.”

  Eck rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic,” Dean said. “Let’s go now, or you’ll regret it.”

  “Mr. Smith can call me. I’m not going with you, and you can’t force me. I swear I’ll scream for security if I have to!”

  Eck burned a hole into Harold’s frowning face with his eyes, “Fine then,” and his hand slipped into his jacket.

  Harold gripped the arms of his chair and pushed back ready to run even though there was nowhere to go. Dear God, is he going to shoot me?

  Maybe he was being dramatic, because Eck produced a phone, not a gun.

  “Okay...good, call Mr. Smith then,” Harold said.

  Eck shook his head incredulously and dialed a number. He then hit speaker phone and waited for an answer. Dean pointed at Harold. “Not a word if you care about Sherry or Amanda.”

  Dean’s words hit Harold with more force than any bullet. “What do you mean? Sherry, Amanda, you leave them—”

  The phone was answered, and Dean placed his pointing finger on his lips.

  “Hello.” It was Sherry. Harold almost burst into tears.

  Eck talked in a voice unlike his own. “Hi Mrs. Winstatt this is Jonathan Winters...”

  “Oh, hi Mr. Winters, we didn’t miss the lesson did we?”

  “Absolutely not, I was just calling to confirm, six o’clock tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, we’ll be there.”

  “Great, I hope Amanda is excited about learning to play.”

  “Honestly the piano was her second choice, but there aren’t a lot of Chinese Maguhu teachers around here. I don’t know where she gets some of her wild ideas. She was so excited when she told me about the instrument. I think mainly because she discovered the sound box is made with the femur bone of a horse and part of it is covered in snake skin. I mean where on earth would you even get an instrument like that?”

  Eck laughed heartily. “I guess China. Better make sure she doesn’t have her passport ready.”

  Sherry answered with a snicker of her own. Harold missed her laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her passport safe and sound.”

  “Seriously Mrs. Winstatt, I have a teenage daughter myself. I know what you mean. They’re something else sometimes. Hopefully we can make her forget about the horse-boned Maguhu.”

  “Hopefully Mr. Winters.”

  “Well I won’t keep you, see you tomorrow evening.”

  “Great, see you then.”

  Eck had been a different man, carried off the conversation perfectly and it horrified Harold. His brow furrowed and his eyes moistened. He squeezed the arms of the chairs. “I promise you if you even think about hurting them I will do everything I can to kill you.”

  “Big threat, Harry,” Dean said. “I don’t think we are panicking though.”

  “You sorry lowlifes, I mean it.”

  “Settle down,” Eck said in his regular voice. “We won’t hurt them if you get your stubborn ass out of that chair and come with us.”

  “Fine, let’s go.”

  The three left the office and walked past a bewildered Dana Murphy. “Dana, I’m going to be out for an hour. These gentlemen and I have a meeting.”

  Dana looked at Harold and pleaded with her eyes to tell her if something was wrong. “Yes, Mr. Winstatt. Is there anything you need me to do...anything for the meeting.”

  Her pleading eyes went unanswered. “No Dana, I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

  Dana nodded, but as she watched Harold go she wondered if she would ever see him again.

  Chapter 17

  Bretten had recovered from Tristan’s beating earlier in the week. Now, he was sweaty and tired from his final training session of the day and ready to make the walk across the alley. But he stayed in the gym working with a couple of young students. They weren’t training to fight professionally, simply loved the sport and wanted to learn. This was a common occurrence. Most of the professional fighters offered their time to Whit’s students.

  Brooke lounged on a bench. She too was sweaty having finished up her training at about the same time as Bretten. She watched dispassionately and offered a little advice of her own here and there.

  The students were drilling in the clench, a knee strike to double leg takedown. One had a difficult time transitioning from the knee to the set up for the double leg. Bretten said over and over, “Clear his elbow out of the way, all the way to your side, create space, shoot.”

  After a few frustrating attempts, the kid got it. He drilled it a few more times not yet at full speed and gained confidence with each takedown.

  “Thanks Bretten, we appreciate the help.”

  “Don’t mention it. Keep working hard.”

  Bretten headed over to Brooke as she slowly pushed away from the bench. “You still want to rent a couple movies?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but you definitely need a shower first.” Bretten joked.

  “You should talk stink boy.”

  Bretten leaned over and playfully shouldered Brooke in the arm. “You know you like my manly smell.”

  Before Brooke had a chance to respond, Whit came around the corner. “Nice work today you two. Bretten you got a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure Whit, what’s up?”

  “Why don’t you come into my office where it is quieter? I get tired of talking over the damn racket in this place.”

  It was a little bit noisy, weights clanging, grunting, bodies grappling, hands and feet popping bags, all made for an unreserved symphony of fight music.

  Bretten glanced at Brooke. “I’m gonna go grab my shower, see you back at the house,” she said.

  She headed toward the locker rooms and Bretten followed his coach.

  Whit pulled the door so it closed but didn’t latch, and the men sat down. “So how are things going around here for you, overall I mean?”

  “Good coach. I like it and I know I’m improving every day.”

  “Definitely, I’m really pleased with how hard you are working and your desire to learn.”

  “Thanks, I know I’m ready to get back into the cage.”

  “I think you are too.”

  The conversation seemed odd. There wasn’t any need to be alone to make small talk about training.

  Then Whit said, “You know the night after the gauntlet I told you guys, just like I tell everyone else, that I would do my best to make you the best fighters you could possibly be?”

  “Sure, I remember.”

  “That means I have to know everything about my fighters, not just what goes on in the gym, but what is going on in their lives as well.”

  “Okay coach...”

  “It kind of embarrasses me that I didn’t hear about Tristan’s father. I’ve known Scott and Tristan for years and to not know about him being seriously ill is inexcusable.”

  “Coach I’d tell you if there was anything going on in my personal life.”

  “That’s what I’m curious about. I know that Tristan is having a terrible time right now, but is there anything going on between you two, anything at the house that might have caused him to blow up at you and not somebody else?”

  “Not really. We’ve always gotten along okay. I wouldn’t sa
y we are friends or anything, but no real problems.” Then he thought about Tristan’s threat the night on the couch.

  “Okay, so what’s the deal with you and Brooke? It seems that you two are becoming something of an item.”

  “Honestly, I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. She’s incredible and I want to be more than friends. We just seem to have a real connection. Why? Do you think that had something to do with Tristan trying to punch me into the floor?”

  “I’m not too fired up about my fighters dating. If something goes wrong it can lead to serious tension in the gym, but you are both grown up so just don’t let it affect your training.” Bretten nodded and Whit continued. “And it could’ve had something to do with Tristan snapping on you. You know Brooke grew up with him, and they did date for a while.”

  “I heard that.”

  “Yeah, and if that is the case at all then it’d make sense that he’d come after you. Even if it wasn’t a conscious thought.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing, other than keep me in the loop if there is anything going on. I won’t judge, I just need information to make sure I can coach you best.”

  “You got it coach.” Bretten stood and the two men awkwardly shook hands. He turned to leave and there was a knock on the office door. Bretten reached over and pulled it open and was face to face with Tristan.

  Instinctively he stepped back with his right foot and tensed in case Tristan decided to attempt to deliver another barrage. “Don’t worry,” Tristan said. “I’m not going to punch you.” Even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. “I came to apologize to Whit, but guess I need to tell you sorry too.”

  Tristan looked beat, and the apology seemed to taste bitter as it left his lips. He had bags under his eyes and his long blonde hair hung unkempt, a rarity for the man. It looked to Bretten like Tristan knew he needed to say he was sorry, but he wasn’t. “Apology accepted,” Whit said and stuck out his hand, Tristan shook it. “I was just talking to Bretten about making sure to keep me informed. I want you to do the same. You know I’ll help you guys in any way I can, right?”