by H. J. Bellus
Cruz throws a punch, missing. The other fighter sweeps his leg. Cruz is too quick, avoiding the blow. Half of the first round goes much like this until Cruz is throttled with a right hook. I scream, not even recognizing my own voice. Cruz’s head jerks back, his footing unsteady, and the opponent takes full advantage of that fact.
Cruz manages to get one solid punch in. The bell rings. The official breaks up the fighters. There’s no doubt Cruz lost that round. It wasn’t pretty. I can’t see much from his corner besides the bloody rags being tossed to the side.
“No. No. No.” I jump off my seat and pace back and forth. “No.”
All the former reasons I hated fighting flood right back in. This. All of this. Seeing the man I love get beat and battered. I don’t have long to digest all of it before the next round begins. It begins as the last one ended. Cruz taking punch after punch.
“What is he doing?” I scream.
Kip wraps his arms around me telling me something, but I can’t hear him. Zane pipes over the roar of the crowd.
“He’s getting punch-drunk.”
“What?” I know what it means, but why? Jesus, Cruz. I try to step forward having no idea what to do, but Kip pulls me back to him.
Cruz takes another brutal blow to his chin, stumbling backward. He’s going to go down any minute. His face is unrecognizable with blood flowing down it. I see it coming and close my eyes, unable to watch what is about to happen. I slap my palms over my face pressing the hot tears to my face. My knees tremble.
The crowd falls in hushed silence. There are some groans. I can feel the pain and hurt settling in my gut. I can’t look up to see Cruz crumbled on the mat. My shoulder jostles from the side. The crowd erupts into a vicious cheer. Hands grab my shoulders rattling them until I’m forced to glance up.
When I do, the scene has changed. Cruz’s opponent tumbles back to the mat. Cruz reacts with stealth-like moves straddling the man. He’s been energized, swinging his arms like a wild man. Blood sprays across the mats. The man below him fights as much as he can, throwing his arms up. Then he stops.
The official tries to pull Cruz back. He goes easy, slumping back on his ass. He rests his elbows on the top of his knees, burying his face in his sweat-covered wraps. From my spot ringside I can see his entire body shudder.
The noise level is beyond deafening. My dad holds back his team from swarming Cruz. He gives him the time he needs. This fight was for his dad. And he did it. Cruz eventually rises to his feet, walking to the center of the ring. When the official holds his hand up his tears fall. It’s the third time I’ve ever seen the man cry.
Soon he’s wrapped up in the arms of my dad and teammates as the celebration ensues. A microphone is shoved in his face. The poor guy can barely catch his breath.
“Cruz Felix, your story has been a wild one. The league knew you’d always be a force to be reckoned with. How does it feel to be the champ?”
The hair on the back of my neck rises when the scantily dressed ring women saddle up next to him.
Cruz opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He tries a few more times until emotion-riddled words flow out. “This was for my dad. All of it. The sacrifice, heartache, and dedication are all because of him. When he gained his angel wings, he sent me on a journey to Diablo’s Throne, and that’s where I found everything. Boss, there will never be a way to thank you for everything.”
Cruz pauses. Dad nods. Then Cruz utters one final sentence, or should I say a demand?
“Layla, locker room.”
***
“Papi.”
I watch as Bella pokes Cruz’s chest. He rustles around a bit before she continues to poke and sing to him.
“Papi, owie.” She crawls up his chest and places kisses around his swollen eyes. “Oh, Papi.”
Cruz pops open one eye and grins half a smile. His lips are cracked, keeping him from gifting us with his megawatt smile framed with dimples. Bella settles in the middle of Cruz’s chest, raising her palms up in the air in question and concern.
“Owie, Papi.” She tilts her head, concerned.
“Buenos días mi hermosa bebé,” Cruz croons.
“Owie,” Bella continues to repeat over and over.
Cruz pulls Bella down to his chest, kissing the top of her head and running his hand up and down her back. This right here is something he’s worried about. We’ve spent hours at night talking about it. I knew it would make him feel horrible. I reinforced over and over it was part of the lifestyle and wouldn’t affect Bella. It would only show her how strong of a man her dad is. The aftermath of fights isn’t pretty, but Cruz’s will and determination are the silver lining in all of this. The best role model a little girl could have.
I sit back with my cheek propped up on my hand and listen to Cruz explain the fight to his daughter. Bella can no way understand any of it, but it doesn’t stop him. She nods her little head and pets his face as he talks. I cry all the damn time nowadays, and this is no exception.
The door to our room flies open.
“Put the wiener dog away,” Jag announces as he sails onto our bed.
“You ba-jerk.” Cruz cringes when Jag lands on his legs.
Jag didn’t make it to the finals this year. He got caught up in his own head and his past. I know it’s not his ending.
Bella scrambles off Cruz making him cringe one more time. He curls up in a ball, groaning. Bella didn’t hit a sore muscle but rather the baby maker buttons. I can’t help but laugh. Here lies the champion getting beat up in his own bed.
“Not funny.” He grabs my wrist pulling me to his side. I fit perfectly, melting into him just like the first time and every single time since.
We watch Bella squeeze Jag’s cheeks then slap them to get his attention. Once she does, she rattles off her own story about her papi to Jag.
“Pow. Pow. Owie. Jab. Pow. Owie. Papi ganó!” She grips his cheeks harder, squealing and shaking in excitement.
Bella leaves Jag speechless. I think it’s a first this has ever happened. He throws back his head in laughter and plucks her from the bed, joining the rest of the chaos in the living area.
“Door,” Cruz and I both holler in unison.
Jag catches it with his foot slamming it shut, leaving us alone.
“Isn’t it bad luck to see your bride on your wedding day?” Cruz asks, running his hand up my spine.
“Yeah, I think that only applies to normal people, though.” I sit up, tugging my shirt up and over my head.
I move slow, pulling the blankets down and running my palm over his hardening cock. I swing my leg over him until I’m straddling him.
“And I’m certain sex is supposed to be after the ceremony late into the night.” I run my pointer finger down his chest.
“We are making our own rules right fucking now.” Cruz palms my ass.
“We always have.”
Book #2 in Diablo’s Throne MMA Series
Coming Early Spring 2018
Jag
No matter how fast he runs, there’s one thing Jag can’t escape.
His past.
It has the power to destroy the man he’s worked so hard to become.
Jag is slated to be the next MMA champion. It’s been years in the making. The hype surrounding his prized fight is ignited by his charismatic personality and smoldering good looks.
But it’s all a shield protecting the storm brewing inside of him…
And now, there’s a new girl in town Jag can’t seem to stay away from. She’s quiet, mysterious, and sexy as sin.
His demons. Her secrets. They collide when least expected.
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Acknowledgments
This book has been in the back of my mind for a very long time. I’ve always loved MMA and what all goes into it. The dedication and determination displayed from the fighters has always awed me. I hope you enjoy Cruz’s story and the journey that brought him to his happily ever after.
I’ve said every single time and will do so with every book I release. A huge thank you to you, the reader. You bring my words to life every single time. You fuel me to continue on. You are my backbone and will always be a part of my world.
Love,
HJB
About the Author
I am just a simple country girl getting one story out of my head at a time. I was raised in small town, USA and still reside there with my husband and children. I am a huge country music fan and am inspired by it everyday. I live and love country life, and you will find those elements in my books. I also adore strong and brave lead female characters, and strive to be a courageous and independent woman in everyday life. In my opinion, life is no fun without a good sense of humor, sprinkles, cheese whiz, and candy. It is the simple things that warm my heart. Live life your way, HJ Bellus!
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