1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

  “No clue. But lately this publicity shit is leading him around by his dick.” First Camille, now this. He seems less about the fight and more about the ratings.

  Blake nods then turns back to the team and the suit. I pop in my earbuds, drop my head back, close my eyes, and pull up my girl’s face.

  The couch dips next to me. I look up to see Blake mouthing something at me, and squint to read his lips.

  “. . . fucking told you that dick was up to no good.”

  I catch something out of the corner of my eye that makes me do a double take.

  Candy.

  What the hell is she doing here? Before the question registers in my mind, it’s answered.

  Distraction.

  Candy and a girl I’ve never seen saunter around the room, asking if there is anything anyone needs. They’re both wearing what amounts to Hooter’s uniforms, minus the owl. Their red shorts look like they’re painted on and their tank tops look more like sports bras.

  Fucking Dominick.

  “Wes!” My blood is boiling and I’m itching for a fight. I shake my head, half furious and half impressed with Dominick’s play.

  If he can’t distract me, he’ll piss me off enough to want to kill someone then put me in the octagon.

  My head trainer turns and walks to me. “What’s up, Jonah?”

  I stand and meet Wes eye to eye. “I want those girls out of here. Now.” My voice is a low growl.

  He looks over his shoulder and back to me, his eyes narrow. “Those girls?” He tilts his head, motioning to Candy and her sidekick.

  “Yeah, Wes. Those girls.” I throw my arms out and look around the room. “Who the fuck do you think I’m talking about? They’re the only fucking girls in the room!” Blood pounds in my ears and a low buzz rattles in my head.

  “Get ’em out of here, Wes. Seriously.” Blake’s voice is low and threatening at my side.

  Wes steps over to the girls and says something I can’t hear. They both look my way, and I spear Candy with a glare that I hope sends fear through her veins.

  Her smile disappears and her eyes hit the floor. The girl with her is going into some long explanation about something and Wes listens. After a few minutes, he makes his way back to me.

  “They can’t leave. They’ve been assigned to the room. If they leave, they’re afraid they’ll get fired.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Blake turns toward the girls. I grab his elbow.

  Fuck it. I don’t have the brain space to worry about this shit right now. I’m falling right into Dominick’s trap by getting fired up. He wants me half-cocked before I get to the octagon. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  “It’s cool, Blake. You just keep that bitch away from me.”

  I suit up and hit the heavy bag. Every punch and kick relieves some of the anger polluting my focus. Blake and I move through some grappling techniques, and I feel the last of my tension dissolve.

  Dominick thought he could goad me? Wrong.

  Feeling back to myself, I go back to my place on the couch. Owen hits me up with the twenty-minute warning. Finally.

  Behind my closed eyes, I play memories that make me relax. My dad and I playing ball in the front yard, him hugging my mom in the kitchen when he’d come home from work. Raven’s face alight with laughter, her peaceful expression when she’s deep in sleep—

  A small hand brushes my knee then shoots straight up my shorts. My eyes fly open. I grab the hand and still its progression. Pressing it to my inner thigh, I pin the offender with my stare.

  Candy is sitting on the coffee table, her body between my knees. She’s leaning forward in her barely-there clothes, her palm against my skin under my shorts. And I’m holding it there with my hand. Fuck.

  The room is almost empty except for a couple guys, who are currently being distracted by Candy’s friend.

  I rip her hand from my leg and stand, towering over her. “Nice try, bitch. Next time you put your hand on me, I’ll break it.”

  She pulls free from my grip, fear working behind her eyes. She schools her features. “Whatever. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  It’s time to end this.

  Twenty-nine

  Raven

  My knees are bouncing like the pistons on a Ferrari. I have a burning urge to run laps around this arena, but the fear that grips my gut keeps me planted in my seat.

  I’m grateful for the executive car Jonah had pick us up. I don’t think either of us could drive with these nerves.

  The driver made sure to get us here just before the title fight, opting to forgo the opening fights at Jonah’s request. He feared they might freak me out. He’s right.

  Where’s Guy?

  Last time we spoke, he said he’d be here for the opening fights. He’s not.

  I grab my phone. No missed calls. I call Guy again. No answer. Darn it. Maybe his phone battery died, or he left it at home.

  “Still no answer?” Katherine is beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She must be nervous too.

  “No.” I shove my phone into my pocket. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him. He seemed really excited to come tonight.”

  Katherine rubs my back then re-knots her hands in her lap. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  My fingers drum against the plastic seat of my folding chair, a furious beat that matches my racing heart. I scan rows of people surrounding the octagon. The crowd hums with anticipation, bloodthirsty. So close to the octagon floor, no doubt I’ll be able to hear the thud of fist on flesh at this distance. My stomach plummets.

  I check the glowing digital numbers on the clock above the octagon. Eighteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, thirty-six, thirty-five. They tick down, one by one, just like my freedom. Numbered in minutes. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

  A warm hand stills my twitchy leg. “Calm down, honey. He’ll be okay.” Katherine misinterprets my anxiety.

  Watching Jonah get hit in the octagon will be difficult, but I’m more concerned with his acting skills than his fighting skills.

  I nod, smile, and fix my eyes back on the clock. Where is Guy?

  The seats in the arena fill up quickly as people return from their bathroom and concession stand breaks. The air is heavy with energy and aggression. It could be my imagination, but the smell of blood and sweat seem to linger in the air from the earlier fights. As the main event draws near, the arena comes alive, chanting.

  “Assassin, Assassin, Assassin . . .” Over and over, ratcheting my tension.

  I wonder if Jonah can hear this from his dressing room. I wish so badly I was with him now, allowing the warmth of his skin and soothing words to comfort me. My arms wrap around my body. He’d hold me close. Probably tell me to breathe and relax. He’d tell me everything is okay and he’s going to take me home tonight as his, for good.

  Jonah’s corner is empty. No familiar faces in sight. I look up the aisle. They must all be in the back with him. The thought brings my heart rate down and the muscles in my shoulders ease up their grip. We’ll be together soon enough, but for now it’s good he’s surrounded by his team. I’d probably only make him worry.

  Eight minutes, four seconds.

  “Hey, Raven. This seat taken?”

  My back stiffens at the grating voice. Candy. Swift air brushes my arm as she sits in the seat to my right. I turn to look at her, certain my face conveys my shock. My jaw falls slack as I take in her clothes. Not clothes, more like a modest bikini.

  I’m speechless.

  “Hello. Are you Raven’s friend?” Katherine reaches her hand across my lap towards Candy. “I’m Katherine Slade.”

  Candy leans in, pressing her hard, fake boob into my arm, making me cringe and recoil. I stare in amazement as an angel and the devil shake hands. In my lap.

  “Yes, I am.” Candy’s tone nauseates me. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Slade. I’m also friends with your son. We’re very close.” Her words are said to Katherine, but the way her eyes slid
e to mine, they’re meant for me. Bitch.

  “Oh, really, you know Joey?”

  “Yes, I do. We’ve been close for a while now.” Her saccharine smile and overly painted face lean towards Katherine. “As a matter of fact, I just left him backstage.”

  My heart cramps violently. I lock my narrow eyes on her. She was with him?

  “I don’t understand. You were with him just now?” Katherine sounds as confused as I feel.

  A wicked smile stretches across Candy’s face, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had fangs. “Yes. He’s doing great. A little tense, so I rubbed his shoulders forever.” She draws out the last word as she rubs her hands and flexes her fingers. “My hands are killing me.”

  Fucking bitch!

  Shocked, I meet Katherine’s eyes. She looks . . . disappointed. She believes Candy. Well, I don’t.

  With my elbows resting on my knees, I drop my head into my hands, rubbing my temples. This is not happening. If I get into it with Candy, that will only upset Katherine. But if I don’t call her out, then Katherine will think her son is a low-down, dirty dog. What do I do?

  I love Jonah and I trust him more than anyone. Candy is lying. I bet she wasn’t even back there with him. For the first time, the familiar creeping doubt that normally seeps in is absent. He’s putting everything on the line for me tonight. Putting everything he’s worked for aside for me and our future. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Candy make him out to be anything less than the hero he is.

  My shoulders relax and I sit up straight. I turn into Candy’s face as she forces an innocent expression, and fails.

  “You know what, Candy?” I’m ready to unleash on the evil slut.

  “So, Raven, what are you doing here anyway?” Candy starts talking as if I hadn’t even opened my mouth. “Jonah told me you weren’t able to come. Something about, hm, what was it?” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, yeah, something about getting a new job with your father? Dominick?”

  Katherine gasps, and my jaw locks down, making my teeth ache.

  How does she know about Dominick? Jonah and Blake are the only two people who know. My head spins. How else would she know that unless she was back there? Talking about me. They would never do that.

  None of this makes sense.

  Unless?

  She’s working for Dominick.

  My heart pounds and I want to scream. Adrenaline fists my hands. I can’t lose it here. Not in front of her. I won’t give her the satisfaction. But one thing’s certain: I need to get out of here.

  “Excuse me,” I mumble and stand to leave.

  “Raven?” Katherine stands next to me, her eyebrows pinched together.

  “I’m fine, Katherine. I’ll just be a minute.”

  I scoot past Candy into the aisle, grasping my hands together to keep from backhanding her. She coughs to cover her snicker. I whirl to face her, giving up my restraint. One slap. Then I’m out of here.

  The lights go dark. The room explodes in a fan-crazed roar. I’m frozen in place, unable to see in front of me. A spotlight cuts through the darkness. The top of the stairs illuminates a group of very large men. A man wearing a black shirt that says “Crew” in yellow across his chest ushers me back, telling me to take my seat. Back in place, Katherine grabs my hand.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to UFL one-ninety-eight.” The announcer’s voice fills the room.

  The crowd roars and my shoulders tighten with tension.

  “Six-time Heavyweight Champion, Victor ‘The Bull’ Del Toro, will defend his title against the undefeated Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade.”

  A mix of boos and cheers ring in my ears. Katherine’s grip tightens. The driving bass of Jay-Z’s song “Niggas in Paris” fills the dome-shaped arena, sending the fans into a frenzy. The air electrifies my skin, every hair standing on end.

  “Let’s welcome our challenger. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade.” The announcer’s voice draws out his name and my body breaks out in goose bumps.

  A bright light flashes to the top of the stairs. My eyes squint and burn trying to make out a familiar face. Out in front of the group are Rex and Caleb, but I’ve never seen them like this before. Their faces are masks of concentration. Their bodies are taut and unforgiving. They descend the stairs with the bravado of well-trained soldiers. I struggle for breath, suffocated by the anticipation in the air.

  As the group walks down the steps, each member of the team comes into view. Wes walks behinds Caleb and Rex, then Blake. His teasing eyes and easygoing smile are replaced by determination. I search for Jonah’s face in the group. Fans stand on their chairs, yelling and reaching to get to Jonah in the center of his crew. Security guards line the aisle, holding people back.

  My hand squeezes Katherine’s tighter and I push up on my toes. I get a quick glimpse of the tips of dark mussed up hair.

  There he is.

  His face comes into view and I’m completely floored. He looks positively deadly and more beautiful than ever. My heart almost beats out of my chest. His eyebrows are low in a fixed state of focus, making his eyes look black. His full lips are held in a tight, straight line, framed by his set jaw. The muscles under his colorful skin seem bigger as they flex under the light. I suck in a breath and throw my hand over my gaping mouth.

  I’ve seen Jonah train and he seemed lethal then. But now, he looks homicidal. I say a silent prayer that this is all an act, because the way he looks now, he’d snap at slightest provocation.

  They move down the stairs, passing rows of screaming fans. His team is circled around him protectively. They reach the bottom and walk down the aisle of our section. Then the group stops short. Right at our row.

  I’m frozen, my eyes burning and stuck on Jonah’s face. He turns his head towards me as if he’s responding to my call. His eyes don’t search, but land right on my face. Caught in the ferocity of his stare, I hold his gaze. A one-dimpled smile touches his face just long enough for me to see before it disappears and the focus is back.

  That’s it. He’s letting me know that this is an act. I take a deep breath and smile back, huge. He gives me a wink and throws a quick look to Candy. His intense glare makes her cower.

  Take that, bitch.

  And with renewed hope, I watch the group continue down the aisle and into the octagon.

  ~*~

  Jonah

  “. . . sixth time returning Heavyweight Champion Victor ‘The Bull’ Del Toro.”

  Standing in my corner of the octagon, I wait for Del Toro to make it down the aisle. I find my girl in the crowd. She’s holding my mom’s hand. Thank you, Mom.

  And why in the hell is Candy sitting where Guy should be? Maybe he couldn’t make it? But that doesn’t explain why Dominick’s slut-bot is in his place.

  It was one thing to see Candy waltz into my dressing room like she belonged there, but seeing her standing next to Raven is unsettling. I thought I scared her enough to get her to back off. Apparently whatever Dominick is paying is worth her continued humiliation. Candy spent the entire time in my dressing room, sitting in the corner on a plastic folding chair. Blake even made her and her slutty sidekick face the wall just to make a point.

  I force my thoughts back to Del Toro and the fight. Nothing can throw me off my game. Not one fucking thing. Ten minutes. I need to stay up for the first two rounds. After that, game over. My eyes slide back to Raven like they’re magnetized.

  “Get your head in the fight, Slade. Your girl’s still gonna be there when it’s over,” says Owen from behind me.

  I nod. He’s right. I need to focus on the fight and keep the buzzing in my head down to a minimum. Candy works for the enemy, and seeing her so close to Raven makes me wish I’d locked my girl in the bedroom. Maybe I shouldn’t have had her come tonight. I could have set her up somewhere, far away from here, until the outcome was determined. But I need to see her face to stay grounded, to control the rage that’ll be riding me hard.r />
  Del Toro stands in his corner, giving me the stare-down. I’d give almost anything to knock that confident look right off his scarred face. Almost.

  The ref motions for us to meet in the middle of the octagon. He gives us the speech they always give before a fight about no hits below the belt and make it a clean fight. His words may as well be spoken in Japanese as much as I’m paying attention. Instead, I’m locked eye to eye with Del Toro. The ref yells something and then repeats it. It’s on the repeat that I hear he wants us to tap knuckles. Fuck that.

  “You’re going down, you little bitch,” Del Toro growls as he takes his fighting stance.

  He has no idea.

  I raise my fists and we face off. My blood sizzles with restrained aggression.

  The ref waves his hand between us. “Fight.”

  Del Toro and I circle each other, sizing each other up, fists at the ready. I focus on his hands, keeping his legs on radar. The crowd roars over shouts from our cornermen. Mine yell, “Take a hit!” His shout, “Take him down!”

  Del Toro turns his fist, palm up, taunting me. “Come on, pussy. Take a shot.”

  My jaw grinds against my mouth guard. This cocky fuck thinks I can’t lay him out. I have to let him take me. I mock swing. He flinches. Yeah, fuck you.

  “Get movin’, guys,” the ref says. “Fans didn’t pay to watch two fairies circling the maypole—Fight.”

  No more milking the clock.

  I drop my guard. He throws the quick left. I dodge it. The crowd cheers. We circle again, and his right leg sweeps at my feet. I jump back. I feel the buzz in my head. My muscles coil. I find my groove and right jab a heavy body blow. He doubles, winded, but recovers. His fist comes at me. I duck. Shit. If this fight goes to decision, I’d win. I need to get hit.

  I rush Del Toro and slam him against the fence, holding him in a clinch. A barrage of punches hammer my back.

  My leg snakes around one of his, keeping him off balance. He attempts a knee to my thigh, but my hold locks him down. He tries for a chokehold. I bury my shoulder deeper into his chest. My body constricts around his. The clock ticks on.