by Abby Niles
Dante ground down on his mouthpiece. This wasn’t Sentori’s normal entrance song. No doubt the asshole had handpicked this one as a final attempt in his pathetic mind games. His opponent, purple hair glowing, strolled toward the cage as if he weren’t about to defend his title.
“Shout! Shout! Shout!” came from the speakers.
“Shout at the devil,” the fans yelled in unison.
Dante shook out his arms. The song irritated him. Sentori would love to be considered Satan himself, but Dante wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. His opponent was nothing more than a nuisance in need of squashing.
When Sentori reached ringside, he went through the same prep then entered the cage, his gaze trained on Dante, who held his glare. Dante knew the game well. Intimidation. Who would shrink the quickest? It wouldn’t be him. The direct challenge enflamed him, bringing forth the raging inferno of his namesake.
The announcer came into the middle of the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the main event,” he yelled into his microphone.
The crowd screamed.
“And the moment of truth, live from the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas, it’s tiiimmmeee!”
The ground shook from the thundering applause. Dante fed off the atmosphere and held Sentori’s gaze, listening to the people who chanted “Inferno.”
“Five, five-minute rounds for the undisputed welterweight championship of the world.” The announcer pointed to Dante. “Introducing first, in the blue corner, this man holds a record of seventeen wins and no losses, standing six feet one inch, weighing in at one hundred and seventy pounds, fighting out of Atlanta, Georgia, presenting the challenger, Dante “Inferno” Jooones!”
The noise level increased to deafening as the fans stomped and shook signs of support in the air. The adrenaline inside Dante grew to bursting.
The announcer pointed to Sentori. “And now introducing the champion, fighting out of the red corner, this man holds a record of twenty wins and zero losses, standing five feet eleven inches, weighing in at one hundred and sixty nine pounds, fighting out of Atlanta, Georgia, the reigning, defending welterweight champion of the world, Richard Sentoriii.”
Loud boos mingled with Sentori’s supporters’ yells. Hearing the negative response from the fans energized Dante more. Even the spectators wanted to see Sentori fail. He would give them what they wanted.
The referee came between them. “All right, gentlemen, protect yourselves at all times, listen to my instructions, and we’ll have a clean fight. Touch gloves.”
Dante lifted his hands toward Sentori’s. Instead of reciprocating the show of respect, his opponent threw a short, quick punch toward Dante’s jaw. He snapped his head back before the fist made contact and the referee dove between them.
Sentori jumped back, raising his arms.
Dante tensed, muscles flexed, jaw locked.
The referee stood as a barrier between them, then pointed to Dante. “Are you ready?”
He nodded.
Ref pointed to Sentori. “Are you ready?”
Another nod.
“Let’s do it!” the ref yelled and backed away.
Dante met his opponent in the middle of the cage and they circled each other, hands up, chins down. Watching for any sign of an attack, Dante focused only on the man before him. Sentori wouldn’t allow this fight to stay on its feet for long.
Judgment time. Two months of improving his groundwork came down to this moment. Sentori weaved from left to right, searching for a way to take him down. Wouldn’t happen. Not yet. He needed to get a few shots in before they went to the mat.
Unwilling to allow his opponent to control things, Dante charged, threw a jab, and caught Sentori on the cheek. His head retracted as he jumped out of Dante’s reach. To finally feel Sentori’s face under his fist released the aggression he’d stored over the months. He wanted to feel more. For him. For the fans. For Caitlyn.
He faked a jab but in the last second came around with a right hook, landing it on the side of his opponent’s face. The force of the hit stung Dante’s arm as Sentori stumbled and revealed a gash above his eyebrow. Blood crept down his face.
Taking advantage of his staggering opponent, Dante snapped his leg around, catching Sentori high on the left thigh. The loud pop surged satisfaction through him. His opponent hopped back, favoring his right leg for a moment before he wiped his glove across his face and settled back.
Exhilaration pumped Dante up. The kick had hurt. That wasn’t the only pain he planned to inflict. They circled. Dante kicked out, catching Sentori on the leg again. As soon as the crack sounded, Dante lunged, planning to deliver another brutal blow. To finish it.
But Sentori dodged the punch and wrapped his arms around Dante’s waist, driving him against the cage. The wire mesh dug into his skin, but he grabbed the back of his opponent’s head and brought a knee up into his gut. For a second, Sentori’s grip loosened, but it was enough time for Dante to take the advantage in the clench and hit him with another blowing knee.
He had to get out of this position. Against the cage with a seasoned jujitsu artist was dangerous. If he wasn’t careful, Sentori would take control.
Dante tried to maneuver out of the clench and take the fight back to the middle of the cage, but Sentori lifted one of Dante’s legs, knocked him off balance, and slammed him to the mat. The air whooshed out of Dante’s lungs. He grabbed one quick breath before Sentori landed a heavy right hand to his temple. The power behind the punch stunned Dante and his head jerked to the side. Sentori had seized control and Dante was in deep shit.
He brought his gloves up to protect his head when Sentori went to deliver another punch. Desperate to get back to his feet, Dante made a fatal mistake. He rolled and gave his opponent his back. One moment of instinct shattered his game plan as Sentori took advantage of the submissive position.
Sentori latched on behind him, his legs wrapped around Dante’s waist, his fists delivering side blows to his temple. Then Dante felt it. The setup. His opponent was going for it.
His signature hold.
The rear naked chokehold.
He twisted, refusing to lose this fight in the first round. Not to this man. And not by submission.
Even as he thought it, the arm snaked around his neck.
…
“Can’t you go any faster?”
The cab driver looked over his shoulder at her. “Listen, lady, I don’t have any control over traffic. We’re still two miles from the arena. Be my guest to walk it.”
Cait groaned and flopped back against the seat. She dug out her cell phone again. She’d tried Dante’s number three times but hadn’t received an answer. She wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to talk to her, or he was unavailable. She prayed for the latter.
It was after ten now. No reason to try his number again. He was already in the cage. She pressed two on her cell phone and waited for Paul to answer.
“Girl, the Mighty Grape Ape is…why don’t I hear any screaming?”
“I’m not at the arena.”
“What the hell do you mean you’re not there? Your man is fighting.”
“It’s a long story, but I’m trying to get there now. What round is it?”
“Second. Hercules almost lost at the end of the first round, but he held out for the bell to ring.”
He’d almost lost? And she hadn’t been there? Her stomach twisted. “How’s he doing this round?”
The taxi finally jolted forward and Cait sighed in relief.
“Slimeball Sentori has taken a few impressive hits to the face.”
She would love to see that.
“And Dante?”
There was a moment of silence. “He’s taken some, too.”
“Cait, what the hell is going on? Why is Paul giving you a play-by-play?” The feminine voice that suddenly filled her ears let her know that Amy had yanked the phone out of Paul’s hand.
“Like I said to Paul, it’s a long story. I’m trying
to get there now.”
“You’re not going to be able to just walk into the arena, Cait. The fight’s almost over. The box office is closed.”
She’d been so focused on her goal, she hadn’t thought of that.
“Shit.” Cait rubbed her eyes.
Dante was going to go through this entire fight thinking she didn’t want to be there. All she could do was go back to the room, wait for him to return, and hope he’d believe her when she said she’d wanted nothing more to be standing in his corner, supporting him.
“How far away are you?”
She glanced up. The arena was finally coming into view. “Down the block.”
Screams of the fans poured through the phone and she clenched the phone tighter. What was happening?
“Second round is over!” Paul’s voice came back on the line.
“Where’s Amy?”
“She’s on the phone. Wait a sec.” Her two friends talked back and forth. “Hey, Cait, Amy says Brad will be waiting. Come through the hotel. He’ll take you ringside.”
Brad! She’d forgotten he’d flown out for the fight.
“Amy said you need to hurry. These fights can end in seconds.”
“I just pulled in, tell Brad I’m coming.” She ended the call and stuffed the phone in her purse.
Before the cab had pulled to a full stop, she’d tossed the money for the fare into the front seat and shot out the door. She raced through the hotel then the casino, weaving around the crowds, throwing “Sorry” over her shoulder every time she bumped into someone.
The fight could end any second.
Please, not before I get there.
When she reached the entrance, Brad handed her a badge. “Put this on.”
As she pinned it to her shirt, she asked, “What round?”
“Fourth. We’ve got to hurry.”
After they flashed their badges to a security guard, who waved them in, she followed Brad into a hall, then a pair of doors.
The boisterous stadium greeted her. Everyone was on their feet, their attention glued to the ring.
That was when Cait noticed she wasn’t in the thick of the dense crowd but walking in a clear path between the seats. Her heartbeat picked up. She was headed straight for the octagon without anyone in her way.
Hallelujah!
She stopped just outside of view, not wanting to make her presence known while Dante was in the middle of a round.
She gazed at her fighter in all his glory. Even coated in sweat and blood, he took her breath away. Both men were on their feet, dancing around each other. Dante swung out and caught Sentori in the face, who stumbled back but righted himself. Next, the butthole swung out and caught Dante on the chin. Her heart froze as Dante’s head jerked violently to the side. Then she saw it. The true testament of how hard this fight had been. Blood oozed from above his eye, his nose, and the corner of his mouth.
Sentori didn’t appear any better with one eye swollen, and a gash across his nose and brow—served the bastard right. The two had beaten the absolute crap out of each other. And the fans ate it up. Her? Her stomach rolled instead and she swallowed her distaste.
Sentori lunged, lifted Dante high into the air, and slammed him against the mat. Cait slapped her hands over her eyes. “No!”
She spread her fingers to see Sentori press Dante into the mat, chest to chest. Her fighter struggled underneath. “Kill him, Dante!” she screamed.
God, had that just come out of her mouth? Maybe she had a fighter’s spirit after all.
The bell rang. End of round four. Dante crossed to sit on a stool in his corner. His team immediately surrounded him, squirting water in his mouth, pressing gauze over his wounds, rubbing his muscles, yelling instructions all the while he sat there dazed and breathing heavily. More than likely he was completely exhausted.
Cait made her way around the octagon to his corner. He was right there, his back toward her. She shouldn’t speak to him, distract him, but couldn’t help herself. He had to know she was here.
“Dante,” she yelled.
He stiffened. Mike whispered in Dante’s ear and he whipped around on the stool. He stared at her. Shock and pleasure swam in his eyes.
Right there, in front of his team, and all the eyes that had followed the fighter’s sudden interest, she yelled, “I love you.”
His eyes widened, then he smiled a big black mouth guard smile.
“Beat him,” she mouthed.
He nodded then turned back to the octagon. The bell rang again and he was up. This Dante was pumped, so different from the exhausted one a moment before. Liveliness flowed off him in waves, determination in his every move.
The men tapped gloves, then Dante swung a right hook, making his mark on Sentori’s left jaw. The man’s eyes widened as he fell back onto the mat. Without hesitation, Dante covered him. Limbs bent in awkward angles, and so many fists flew that at times she wasn’t sure whose was whose.
One moment Dante was on top, the next Sentori was, then vice versa. Back and forth they went. Cait stood with her hands held to the side of her face, ready to shut out the view at any moment, cringing at each pop and crack, avoiding looking at the blood-stained canvas. And the canvas was stained. So gross.
So much for wanting to be a top-notch corner supporter. It took every bit of willpower not to close her eyes and cover her ears. But she forced herself to watch each movement, even if it was at times through squinted eyes.
The two men grappled until Dante got an edge. Or at least she thought it was an edge. She really wasn’t sure. But the hold Dante had Sentori in—behind him, legs wrapped his waist—and the sudden fear on his opponent’s face told her this was a good position for Dante.
Sentori grabbed Dante’s wrist as his arm came around his opponent’s neck. With his free hand, Dante punched the side of Sentori’s face until his grip loosened.
Mike screamed at him from outside the ring with a bunch of lingo she’d never heard and hit the top of the canvas three times. Breath held, she watched, mesmerized. Something was happening. Something big. She just wished she knew what.
Dante’s arm slid under Sentori’s chin as he continued to pound at his opponent’s head. Mike screamed louder, hitting the canvas harder. Good God, what was happening?
The grip around Sentori’s neck was so constrictive, as though Dante was trying to pop his head clean off.
Teeth bared, Dante leaned back, cranking the grip tighter. If that was even possible. Sentori’s eyes snapped open in his beet-red face and he slapped Dante’s forearm.
Oh my God!
She knew what that was. A tap. Sentori had tapped!
Cait screamed, jumping up and down.
The crowd roared as the referee leapt in and separated them. Dante shot to his feet. Arms raised high, he yelled and ran around the ring. His team stormed the cage, all taking their turn hugging the new champion.
As his gaze met hers, he ripped his mouthpiece out and grinned. Pride for this man filled her to overflowing. She kissed her fingers and blew it to him. His eyes twinkled with triumph and delight.
The announcer walked into the middle of the cage while the ref stood between Dante and Sentori, holding one arm each. “Ladies and gentlemen, this fight has ended fifty-five seconds into the fifth round by tap out, declaring the winner by rear naked choke and the new welterweight champion of the world, Daaante ‘Inferno’ Jooones.”
The ref held up Dante’s arm as another man wrapped the gold belt around his waist. The pleasure on Dante’s face caused her chest to tighten. He’d worked so hard for this, had wanted this so badly. Now he had it. Her champion.
The announcer came to stand by Dante. “This was the biggest fight in MMA history and the biggest fight of your career. You beat the toughest guy in the sport tonight with an incredible performance. How does it feel?”
Dante’s gaze met hers again. “It is the most wonderful feeling in the world.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she smiled. She k
new he wasn’t talking only about the fight. She wouldn’t have missed this moment for anything. He’d wanted her here. And this was exactly where she wanted to be.
The next few minutes were chaos. Dante finished his interview, and then he and his team huddled in the middle singing some song she’d never heard. As things died down, they exited the octagon and Dante walked over to her. It was the first time she’d seen him up close and she gasped at what she saw.
A huge gash was taped over his forehead, his right eye swollen and starting to bruise. Another cut sliced across the bridge of his nose. He looked awful and she couldn’t have found him sexier. A man, fresh from battle, exiting the ring and walking straight to her…oh, she liked it. A lot.
When he reached her, she grabbed his hands and held them to her chest.
“I never left. I need you to know that. I never left.”
Confusion clouded his eyes. “But your stuff was gone.”
“I’d gone on a walk to think. That’s all. Sentori took care of the rest.”
“What the fuck do you mean Sentori took care of the rest?” His head snapped up, jaws clenched as he surveyed the area. “I’ll fucking kick his ass a second time.”
She cupped his cheeks and forced his gaze to hers. “I was on my way back to tell you I love you. That was what I wanted you to hear. I love you, Dante Jones. I am so sorry for the pain I caused you, but I am completely, irrevocably, desperately in love with you. All of you. And I am yours if you will have me.”
His eyes full of love, he grabbed her in his arms and whirled her around, squeezing her tight. Cait laughed as he lowered her to her feet. The air left her lungs as she gazed at him. She loved this man so completely it hurt.
“All was forgiven the moment you said you loved me. I needed to hear that. I needed you here,” he said and pressed his forehead to hers.
She ran her hand over his tattoo, tracing the lines with her finger. He kissed her gently then pulled her to him. Cait laid her head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat against her cheek.
Cameras flashed, but she didn’t flinch. Ahhs came from the fans who remained, and still she didn’t flinch. She held onto her warrior, intent on never letting him go.
