Love Tap(61)

“You mean kill?”

“Oh I’m sure they’re much more creative than that.” A sly smile crosses her face, as mine pales.

“Don’t break the rules, and you’ll be fine.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I inhale a sharp breath.

“Got it.”

Glancing up through my blonde hair I eye her.

“Who am I fighting?”

She smiles so big wrinkles form around her eyes.

“You’ll see… and good luck Mr. Steel, and remember; all is fair in fighting and surviving.”

I sit there, taking in those words. Their meaning, and suddenly think…

I’m in way over my head.

My walkout song plays as smoke and fog drifts around the arena so thick I can’t see in front of me. The ground underneath my feet is moist, the concrete chipped and uneven.

There’s people yelling from the crowd, but I can’t see their faces from the lights and steam. Glancing up there’s tinted boxes, no doubt holding some of the highest bidders.

Entering the octagon, a man in jersey shorts and a white fitted t-shirt slaps my back.

“Good luck.” His voice is deep and strong. He pushes my lower back, ushering me into the octagon. I’m not checked for anything illegal, and no Vaseline is applied to my face.

Stepping inside, I glance around, my heart racing like I’ve just done a line of drugs. I’ve been in many cages before, but for some reason… this one feels different. The white floor is smeared with blood stains, a lot of blood. The metallic smell making my stomach twist. The cage is rusted and chipped, the bleachers are dark to where I can’t see anyone.

The crowd starts going crazy in excitement again, the sound of an unfamiliar song playing. I glance around trying to see where my opponent may be coming from, but I can’t see anything from the lights and fog.

I bounce on the balls of my feet, trying to clear the nerves. You got this. You can do this.

The cage opens, and in steps Bret. Bret from school. He moved our freshman year in high school, and I haven’t seen him since.

“Bret?” My heart stops, my eyes widening.

His eyes find mine and widen in surprise.

“You’re fighting now?” My brows pinch together in question.

He jumps on his feet, smacking his gloves together.

“Yeah, about a year now!” his voice rises to be heard above the chaos. I relax some. Knowing they didn’t just pick him off at his house and throw him into an unmarked van before tossing him in a cage. With the things I’ve seen tonight, that wouldn’t surprise me.

“Are you ready for a fight that will leave you at the edge of your seat?” The announcer speaks into the intercom, and the crowd goes crazy. “A fight among friends, a fight that will test the limits of right and wrong!” They roar, but I’m hardly in any excitement. They planned this fight, they knew Bret and I knew each other and put us against each other to make profit. I exhale, rolling my shoulders. They never said making it to the top would be easy. I can do this.

“Let’s give a big round of applause to Camden Steel and Bret ‘Neanderthal’ Hollis!” The announcer yells, the speaker whistling from the overbearing noise.

The big man outside the cage slams the side of the metal cage, making me jump.

“Move it boys.”

Making the first move, I jump forward and strike him in the face. His head jerks back, blood pouring from his nose. Putting my hands up to block myself I wait for him to return the hit, but he just circles me.

Maybe he’s trying to wear me out.

I lay a combo into him. Punching him in the stomach before giving him an upper cut to the chin. He falls back on his ass, his face swollen from my hits.

He said he’s trained for a year, but he acts like he’s trained only a week.

Climbing on top of him I pull his head to my chest, wrapping my legs around his back.

“You said you’ve been fighting for a year?”

I right hook him in the ribs, and finally he returns a hit to my head. My ears ring, and my head throbs. I let him go, and strike him in the face over and over, he tries to block himself, but I find an opening every time.

The crowd starts to boo, and my heart strikes with fear. Why are they booing? Usually they only boo if nothing is happening.

Letting go of him, I jump to my feet and he slowly climbs to his own huffing and puffing.

Eyeing me with an unreadable look he digs in his shorts and pulls out a serrated knife. My back breaks out into a nervous sweat as I wait for them to call the fight, but nobody does anything. The announcer is quiet, and the crowd is wild. I finger the cage, eyeing the man outside by the door.

“This is MMA, not the streets!”

The guy laughs, crossing his arms.

“This isn’t Kansas anymore Dorothy, I don’t open the door until they call the fight.”

Like lightening, Bret jumps at me with the knife.

I freeze, I can’t move. I might die here tonight, all over a lousy check and contract.

This is not what I signed up for.

This is not okay.

Not paying attention, pain slices through my abdomen.

Glancing down blood caresses my jersey shorts.

“You f*cking cut me!” I look up at Bret, he looks like a savage with the way he’s looking at me. His legs are spread wide, his body swaying back and forth as he grips the knife with a death grip.