Until the Bell Rings: An MMA Fighter Romance

by Roxy Wilson

“Ready as I can be,” Riley said quietly.

  “Let’s go, then,” Tully said. He looked me over once more, and then looked back at Riley. “Yeah, okay. I get it.”

  Riley didn’t speak much on the way there. He had a look in his eyes, distant, like he was watching something far away very closely. If he was doing whatever he had to do inside to get himself right, I didn’t want to interrupt him. Conversation with Tully was one-sided. I wondered if a career in boxing had made it difficult for him to string more than two or three words together at once.

  The quiet made it a terribly stressful trip. Something bad was about to happen. I could feel it in my gut. I wanted to tell Riley that I didn’t want him to do this. We could work together to pay off Logan’s debts; do it the right way.

  But Riley wouldn’t have stood for it and I wasn’t sure you could just ‘call in’ to an underground cage match. Somehow, I didn’t think they gave you sick days.

  The place was already packed when we got there and the match wasn’t for another hour. I was overdressed—and it seemed like everyone within twenty feet noticed. Eyes crawled over me. It was the kind of place I would never have gone by myself and if I found myself there I would have left in a hurry. But nobody made a move or said anything. Not with Riley on my arm. They were smarter than they looked, I guessed.

  We met Logan near the cage. He was with a much older woman; probably the only other person in the room dressed nice. She was Latina, I guessed, and girl was rocking that black dress like she was twenty even though I thought she probably was in her, what, sixties? Seventies? There was something ancient and timeless about her at the same time that was confusing.

  “Riley Dern, mi hermoso,” she crooned when we came close. “So good to see you. This must be the girl, yes?”

  Riley didn’t answer right away, and when I looked up at him his jaw was flexing. He let out a breath he was holding. “This is her,” he said.

  The woman held out a hand. “La Rosita,” she said. When I took it she pulled me gently in and kissed both of my cheeks. “This young man,” she whispered in my ear, “is very much in love with you.”

  “Oh, I’m…Zahra.” My cheeks warmed as she let me straighten back up, and I threw Riley a furtive glance. What was this, his grandmother? Had he been talking to everyone about me? “Pleased to meet you.”

  Logan seemed uncomfortable, as well. He mumbled something like ‘hello’ but then kept his mouth tightly shut. He tried not to look at Riley and it was painfully obvious he was deeply ashamed about something. Maybe his whole life, for all I knew.

  He and Riley stepped aside long enough to exchange some words quietly with one another, before Riley returned. “I need to go get ready,” he said. “Stick with Logan and La Rosita. As long as you’re near her, believe me, nobody is going to bother you. Okay?”

  I nodded, and stole a kiss from him. “Be okay,” I said. “After this. Just be okay.”

  Riley smiled, and kissed me again.

  But he didn’t say anything.

  La Rosita, it turned out, loved to talk. Mostly, she talked about men. I hoped I was still as spry as it sounded like she was when I got to be that age. And Riley was right. People gave her a surprising deference, even some of the harder looking types, and several times men in nicer suits—men with tattoos, and scars, and grim countenances and mirror black sunglasses—came to her, whispered things, and left. She acted like they didn’t exist.

  “So, this is my first cage fight,” I said to her.

  La Rosita made a disgusted face, “I abhor violence, personally. Men. They love to hit one another, since the dawn of time. I am surprised there are any of them left.” She raised one eyebrow and lifted one of her thin shoulders briefly, as though it really were mysterious. “And yet, there is nothing quite as…thrilling as a man full of fury. All that passion he must have inside of him.” She winked at me. “Your Riley Dern has a great passion in him, yes?”

  She chuckled when I touched my neck, embarrassed. But I couldn’t help but smile with her. There was something easy and tempting about La Rosita. I had the crazy thought that she might very well be the Devil in a black dress. She just made a person feel like sin could be fun.

  Logan didn’t speak to me. I felt bad about that, but what was I going to do? I tried to talk a few times, but he just looked nervous, gave one word answers, and occasionally chewed his nails. He knew, of course, that Riley was going to throw the fight. Did he know something I didn’t?

  “Who’re you betting on?” I asked La Rosita.

  She gave me a slow, sly look. “One does not discuss such things,” she said. “But, I believe I have picked the right man. These matters are not really about skill, you see. They are about pride, and passion, and love. Like all things.”

  “I would think a fight like this was more about hate,” I muttered. “All that violence.”

  “Oh, no, my dear,” La Rosita said. “It is never hate that drives a man to fight. Love is the only thing that can do that.”

  Everything La Rosita said sounded like erotic poetry—probably with her accent she could make the Bible sound dirty. I didn’t know that I agreed with her, but she did make it sound like some deep, wise truth that I wanted to believe.

  “If that was true,” I said, “then I’d have to pick Riley, I suppose. He’s got all those things in spades.”

  La Rosita’s lips turned up just slightly at the corners, and her eyes slid sideways toward me.

  She winked.

  She knew.

  No…she knew something else. What did she know? She was telling me something.

  I turned to Logan, and bent close to his ear. I whispered, even though in this noise I probably didn’t need to. He froze when I did.

  “You bet on the other guy, right?”

  Logan looked around for anyone listening, and his eyes kept searching when he answered me, “I…yeah. I did. He told you?”

  “Who else is betting on the other guy?”

  Logan shrugged, and then looked around. He disappeared into the crowd.

  A few minutes later he came back, his face pale. “I’m so screwed,” he said. “Riley was the favorite. But, I don’t know, maybe they think this Balrog guy is bad news for him. We’ll be lucky to get anything out of this. Damn it…”

  My heart pounded in my chest as I whispered again. “Change your bet,” I said. “Put it on Riley.”

  “You crazy? We have to make something off this if he—”

  “He’s not,” I said. “Bet it on Riley.”

  “What do you mean he’s not?” Logan asked. “Lady, you’re crazy. He and I already talked about this.”

  “And I’m telling you,” I said, “that Riley is going to win this fight.”

  I wasn’t absolutely sure of it; not because of anything I could point to. Just La Rosita’s smile. That woman knew things, you could see it in her eyes.

  “Just do it,” I hissed. “Or you’ll be screwed and who knows what will happen to Riley.”

  Logan hesitated a moment longer, tried to decide, maybe, if I was crazy or not. But, he huffed, finally, and ran his fingers through his hair—one of them was in a metal brace—and then disappeared again into the crowd.

  La Rosita gave me an innocent smile. A bulldog looking gorilla of a man brought her tumbler of something, and she sipped it patiently.

  Finally, people started screaming and cheering, and two men entered the cage from opposite sides.

  One was Riley.

  The other was a brown skinned beast with tattoos on his face that made it look like he was staring out from the mouth of a tiger, with stripes that swept back over his shaved head. His jaw was crooked, his nose broken so many times it was a misshapen lump between his eyes. His eyes were dead black and expressionless.

  You couldn’t get closer to the cage than I was. I went to it, stuck my fingers through the chain link, and beckoned Riley close.

  He smiled, sauntered over the floor of the arena, and bent to kiss me through the ch
ain link. The crowd roared over it, and I felt my face get hot.

  When he started to pull away, I tried to speak over the crowd. When he couldn’t hear me, Riley turned his ear toward me.

  I leaned in close enough that my lips brushed the ridge of his ear. “All bets are on the other guy,” I said. “Kick his ass, Baby.”

  Riley kissed me again before he pulled away, his face passably unfazed by the news.

  But he gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod.

  The fight was on.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Riley

  The hype about Balrog was not just marketing.

  He was fast. The second the bell rang, he was on me, all offense, and I ended up pushed to defense before I could adjust and counter. He drove me hard around the edge of the cage, trying to pin me against the chain link. If he did, I was done; I wouldn’t have to throw a fight, I’d lose fair and square.

  But I didn’t intend to throw it, and I didn’t intend to lose.

  Iron fists rained down on me. I turned into some of them to absorb the impact, others I parried with my forearms; fine motor control was right out, he was too fast for that. So I relied on gross motor instead, using my arms and thighs to block jabs, hooks, knee strikes, and roundhouses.

  I managed to get his back to the fence, and took an opening to get a knee into his lower ribs. Too late, I realized he’d drawn me in. A foot came out of nowhere, caught me in the hips like a fucking truck and sent me flying back to the other side of the cage. I fell back, stumbled, and tried to keep myself off the ground. Cold chain link pressed against my bare skin.

  Balrog was inches away in a heartbeat, those steely eyes calm, his face blank. This man was a killer. The genuine kind that was dead inside, so still and calm that he probably never rattled. I dropped to block a knee with my elbow, aiming for the nerve that would maybe take some of his steam, and I earned a blow to the head that left my ears ringing and my eyes full of flashing white lights.

  Out of sheer reflex, I started upper cutting into his exposed stomach. I got three good shots in before I had to fend off another knee, and this time I smashed my fist into it sideways as I accepted the punishment to my shoulder. Pain exploded there, but Balrog spun sideways and when he put his leg down I saw that he’d shifted his weight to the other leg. Though, all that apparently meant was that he could no longer bash me with his good leg. He just pushed through whatever pain he felt in his knee, if he felt anything at all, and threw a roundhouse that I caught on my upper arm. It launched me sideways and I went down.

  The crowd howled around us. I wanted to find Zahra, but didn’t have time and shouldn’t have been thinking about it anyway. I rolled instinctively to one side, and Balrog came down where I had been, his massive foot slamming into the ground. Fuck me, he’d been trying to get at my spine.

  I popped to my feet. My shoulder was shot, there was no power there anymore. I could play it off, though, and I did. I feinted with that arm, a few quick jabs, a hay maker swing. I kept my right arm in close to my guard as we danced back and forth in a game of keep away that lasted about fifteen seconds before he rushed me, headlong, to tackle me down.

  I stepped, pivoted, tried to pull him past me; but an arm shot up and hooked around mine and the bastard did something that belonged in a movie. He spun, taking his feet off the ground entirely, and his momentum pulled me over him as we went down.

  I hit the ground hard and rolling, right over him and toward the edge of the cage. My face had hit the ground, and I tasted blood in my mouth. My chest hurt; the fall had cracked a rib.

  I pushed myself up to my hands, looked up, and saw Zahra at the edge of the cage, eyes wet. She was saying something I couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears and the dull roar of the crowd. But I felt it, somehow, and I grunted as I threw myself to one side.

  It wasn’t over.

  *****

  Zahra

  Riley went down, and I saw blood on the hard ground in front of him. I couldn’t keep myself away from the edge of the cage, and tried to push my fingers through far enough to touch him. The other guy was getting to his feet fast, but Riley looked worn out and beaten.

  “No, no, no,” I shouted at him. “Get up! Riley, get up! Get up now, Baby!”

  His eyes barely focused on me, and I couldn’t even hear my own voice over the noise, but maybe he could. All at once he pushed one hand hard against the ground and threw himself to one side, just as Balrog stomped down. I looked up briefly and saw those dead shark-eyes focused on me for a terrifying half-second before he turned and threw himself at Riley.

  Riley drew his arms in close, and started to move more. His feet carried him from side to side quickly, he was changing styles, up on his toes. His opponent paused, and started to bend his knees but then stood up and shifted his weight to one side. Riley had hammered his knee before; maybe it made a difference.

  They met again, faster than I could track everything. But both of them were sweating, and after Riley got two hits in to Balrog’s face, they were both bleeding. My stomach churned, and I stepped back slowly. I could feel my heart beating in my ears, hear blood rushing, and I was dizzy. I wanted to believe in him, wanted to know that he could win this, but Riley looked like he was in bad shape and the other guy…it was impossible to tell how he was doing. He was like some kind of robot, he didn’t show anything except that slight limp whenever he put weight on the bad knee.

  Logan looked like a ghost. He was wiping sweat off his forehead every time I glanced at him. He shot me a fearful look a few times, and an angry one more than once. I wanted to slap him. Did he not care that it was his brother in there?

  A gentle hand lay on my arm, and I turned to see La Rosita calm and unperturbed by the awful show happening before us. She winked at me, and patted my arm.

  Had I been wrong? Maybe she just didn’t care what happened. I felt sick.

  Riley managed to get a kick in, something hard that moved his whole body as he planted his heel in the other man’s stomach and wrenched himself around his grounded heel. Balrog tumbled back. Before he caught himself, Riley glanced at me. I wished I wasn’t here, then, that I wasn’t distracting him.

  When Balrog came at him again, Riley didn’t move, or dodge, or lead him. He bent his knees a little, and swung an arm almost lazily at the other man’s head.

  Balrog caught it on his forearm, hooked his hand over it and then brought his other fist snapping around and into it. Even over the noise I could almost hear it break, and I screamed.

  But just as that monster’s fist recoiled, Riley twisted, brought his fist up in that split second that Balrog was open, and drove his fist up and into the man’s jaw.

  It took the man off his feet.

  The place when quiet so fast that it seemed to slow the world down. The huge fighter hung suspended in the air for a heartbeat, and then fell. He landed on his back, limp, and his head bounced against the hard ground.

  After several seconds, everyone in the place began to cheer, and my heart started beating again.

  I didn’t know how to feel. I was horrified at Riley’s injury, overjoyed that he’d won; sick that I’d just seen so much sheer, brutal violence, or relieved that it was finally done.

  Before I realized what was happening, I was locked in someone’s arms, and nearly took out some eyeballs with my fingers before I realized it was Logan hugging me, lifting me off my feet. When he set me down, and looked behind me to see La Rosita looking well satisfied with herself.

  Riley staggered out of the cage, looking busted and bloody but still on his two feet. I met him halfway, and had to stop myself from throwing my arms around him. He had his broken arm clutched against his stomach. It didn’t stop him from pulling me to him with his good arm, though.

  He kissed me on the forehead, carefully, and then turned to spit blood. “You’re hard work,” he said, “you know that?”

  “I do,” I said, my voice strained between the need to laugh and sob. “So are you. I�
��m so glad you’re okay, Baby.”

  He hugged me tight, careful about his arm but unwilling to let me go. “Me too,” he said.

  “Your arm,” I said, pulling away. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “Yeah.” Riley laughed. “Sounds like a plan.” He jerked his chin toward something behind me.

  I turned to see La Rosita strolling up to us. She smiled at Riley. “Very well done,” she said.

  He glowered at her. “You told everyone,” he said.

  So, La Rosita had known. But… “Wait,” I said, “you knew? About…the plan?”

  “I knew,” she said, smiling. “And I knew more than that. Like I told you, it is love that drives a man to fight.” She pointed at me, but spoke to Riley. “Where I am from, if you find a woman worth fighting for, you do not waste time.” She winked, and then slunk off into the crowd, catching a much younger man by the arm as she did.

  “That woman,” I said. “Who is she?”

  Riley frowned, and shook his head. “You know, I can’t be sure but…I think she might run this place.”

  “Well, we’re leaving,” I said, “before that arm starts to set wrong. That’ll put a damper on your league fights, I’m guessing.”

  I tugged him, but Riley didn’t budge. Instead, his hand squeezed mine, and he pulled me around to face him. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m not fighting anymore. I’ve got too much to lose now.”

  “Still slick and smooth,” I muttered. “Good to see that doesn’t change.”

  Riley stared at me, serious. He pulled me toward him, and kissed me on the lips, mouth closed but still full of heat and need. “I may be slick,” he said, “and smooth. But I do love you, Zahra Monroe. And I want to make sure you know that every day from now on.”

  It caught me off guard, and the butterflies that swarmed in my belly made me suddenly let out a high pitched laugh before I choked it off and pulled his face toward me to kiss him again.

  “I love you too, Riley Dern,” I said. “Even if you are hard work.”