Full Contact (Redemption #3)(29)
“Bye, Ray.”
The door opens and then closes with a bang. If he said good-bye, I missed it.
Chapter 9
Dangerous Man. Dangerous Bike.
Priority: Confidential
Bay Area Underground Fight Club (BUFC) Fight Night
Ex-machine shop, Jack London Square. 8 p.m.
Headlining: Misery vs. The Predator
Code Phrase: “I am your number-one fan”
Friday night, four days after Ray left me in a state of aroused confusion at the studio, Jess and I are drinking beer with Blade Saw, Doctor Death, and Rampage in a former machine shop just off Jack London Square. Blade Saw has an arm around Jess’s shoulders, and she is no longer annoyed at being dragged away from watching Tag torture his recruits at Redemption. Although she’s told Blade Saw she’s not looking for a relationship—she’s still not ready to give up on Tag—he’s happy to take whatever she wants to give, which means I’ll be going home alone. Again.
But it’s the best choice, as I’ve said to Jess about a dozen times over the last few days. I need to be with men who are sensitive and easygoing. Men who don’t call to the thrill-seeking side of me that got me in trouble in the first place. Men like Charlie, my first serious boyfriend after the attack, who put up with my panic attacks and flashbacks and stroked my back and made me tea and even came to see my therapist so he could learn how to help me. At the time, I told Jess that men didn’t get better than Charlie and that I probably would never have been able to have sex again if I hadn’t met him.
Ever the pragmatist, Jess said Charlie and I wouldn’t last. Although we were comfortable together, there was no spark. And she was right. Just as she was right about Jason, another caring, sensitive man who was so concerned about my issues and triggers that he often couldn’t perform in bed.
Still, she calls me on my BS. How could I possibly think the Predator would be put off by a little pain? Look what he dishes out—and takes—in the ring. Maybe he has his own issues. And didn’t I tell her he got harder when I bit him? This is what I always do, she says. When they get too close, I push them away. And if I didn’t want him, why the hell did I call her up and drag her out of yoga class when I found out he was fighting tonight?
Good questions. Too bad I have no answers.
“Never took you for a beer drinker.” Doctor Death taps my bottle and I shrug.
“I’ll drink just about anything with alcohol in it when I’m stressed.”
His brow creases. Unbelievably, the slight frown makes him even more handsome.
“Stress can have some profound physiological effects on the body. What are you stressed about? Often it helps to just talk these things through.”
“Uh…well…” I can’t tell him I’m worried about Ray fighting Misery. And there’s no way I’m telling him I’m lusting after a mercurial fighter who I just pushed away.
“I thought Misery was in jail for kidnapping Makayla and Amanda,” Jess says loudly, finally coming to my rescue.
Dragging my thoughts away from my disastrous night in the studio, I nudge Rampage, who is trying to stay hidden in the shadows—an impossible task given his size and his penchant for wearing yellow. Both licensed MMA amateurs, Rampage and Blade Saw are taking a risk by coming to an underground fight, but like me, they can’t resist. Redemption was an underground club for many years, and this kind of fighting is what they know and love best.
“Do you know anything about Misery?”
Rampage looks over and scowls. “He did three years and then he found himself a good lawyer for the appeal and got out for good behavior. They couldn’t link him to the drugs or he might have been there forever.” Rampage is very protective of the women in the club and took it as a personal affront when Misery, once Torment’s biggest competitor in the underground league, kidnapped and beat up Makayla and Amanda when they inadvertently stumbled on his drug smuggling operation in the Menlo District.
“He’s wanted to fight the Predator ever since he got out of the joint.” Blade Saw pulls another beer from his bag and offers it around. “The Predator always refused and last week he didn’t show. But for some reason he agreed to tonight’s fight.”
A whistle blows and we turn our attention to the makeshift ring in the middle of the shop. The fights are rarely held at the same location and this venue is rougher than most. Four metal poles with a thick rope strung between them mark the ring. Sawdust has been scattered over the concrete floor. The air smells of wood chips and diesel with a hint of sweat, and the only light comes from the glare of spotlights set up around the perimeter of the ring.
The first few fights are as bloody and gory as an underground fight lover could want. The concrete floor is responsible for one knockout and two broken arms. A medic tends to the injured in a corner. My skin prickles as if someone is watching me. I scan the crowd, but I don’t see anyone looking in my direction, and I don’t see Ray.
Finally, the promoter announces the big event and Misery steps into the ring. He must be at least six feet two inches tall and weighs over two hundred and fifty pounds. Rampage tells us he was once one of California’s top-ranked amateur heavyweight fighters, but he threw it all away for a fistful of blow and a cup of revenge.
Anticipation ratchets through me as the crowd parts and Ray ducks under the rope. Although Misery clearly outweighs him, Ray dominates the ring through the force of his presence alone.