Caged (Mastered, #4)(13)

“You suck, ref! Pull your head out!” Molly shouted.

Deacon looked at her strangely when she plopped back down next to him.

“What?”

“You’re a vocal fan.”

“Embarrassed you, did I?”

“Surprised me is all.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “You’ll yell and scream at my opponent when you come to watch me fight?”

She couldn’t tell him the thought of seeing him bloodied turned her stomach. “Would that make you happy?”

“It’d make me very happy to see you sitting in my corner, babe. Never had my woman cheering me on.”

My woman. The growly way he said that just . . . got to her.

Another loud cry arose from the crowd.

Molly looked down on the floor. The players were in a massive fight. Punching, pushing, elbows flying, and more pushing. Even the secondary players skated into the fray.

“What just happened?” Deacon asked.

“I have no idea. I’ve never seen this before. Usually it’s a lot more sedate.”

Deacon hissed in a breath. “The chick from the other team just clocked Marisol.”

Blood Mary roared. She grabbed her attacker and knocked her down. Before Bloody Mary lived up to her name, whistles blew.

That garnered attention. The coaches separated the players and sent them back to their respective benches.

The ref skated over to the penalty box to confer with someone.

“Is there medical personnel at these bouts?” Deacon asked.

“Not officially. But the Divas’ coach’s wife is a nurse.” She paused. “Speaking of medical personnel, what do you think of Riggins?” Riggins was one of the new jujitsu instructors, who also served as medical adviser for the athletes in the MMA program and took care of injuries in the dojo. Big Rig was intimidating—partially because of his massive size, but also because he was majorly hot. Molly suspected some of the female students faked injuries just to have Riggins put his big hands on them.

“He knows his shit.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

He shrugged. “It’s what you asked. But if you meant what do I think of Riggins’s role at Black Arts? Whether he’ll stay through the building of the MMA program, or if he’ll just train with Sensei for belt advancement? Don’t think Riggins knows the answer to that.”

The referee moved to the center of the floor, brandishing a microphone. “According to regulations set forth by the national organization, in light of actions by both teams, I’m ending this bout as a double forfeit.”

A chorus of boos rang out.

“That’s a weird end to this.” Molly nudged Deacon’s shoulder. “Means you’ll get to eat sooner. But I have to see if Presley’s okay first.”


Deacon insisted on holding her hand, so she let him lead the way. When they reached the floor, Molly noticed the coaches were in a heated discussion with the referee. The players had spread out to remove their skates.

Presley was perched on the edge of a wooden bleacher seat, holding an ice pack to her face. A smile broke out when she spied Molly. But then she dropped her gaze to Molly and Deacon’s joined hands. “I left you three hours ago. In that time you managed to forget every damn thing we talked about?”

“Deacon showed up at the office and apologized. We realize we have a lot to talk about”—Deacon snorted—“but I’d promised I’d come tonight, so here we are.”

“I don’t know whether to smack you or hug you.”

“I wouldn’t recommend smacking her,” Deacon drawled. “Molly consistently outpunched you in class.”

“She outpunched everyone because someone gave her special treatment.”

“Nope. She’s just that good.”

“What happened tonight?” Molly asked, trying to change the subject, but secretly she basked in Deacon’s compliment.

“Double forfeit. They started the fight knowing we wouldn’t back down. Now the forfeit puts our losses even with theirs. So they did it to move up in the standings.”

Molly didn’t point out the Divas could’ve avoided the loss by not taking the bait and avoiding the fight. “When’s your next bout?”

“I’d have to look at the schedule. But I know we’re holding tryouts next month.” Presley said the last two words in a singsongy manner. “The Cisco Kid is moving back to Oregon, so there’s an opening on the team.”

Bloody Mary strolled by and did a double take at seeing Deacon. “Hey, hot stuff. Couldn’t get enough of me, eh?”

He lifted one eyebrow.

That’s when Bloody Mary noticed Molly and Deacon were holding hands. “You and Cherry? Never would’ve called that one.”

Rather than let it go, Molly said, “Why is that?”

“You lost your shit seeing me fully clothed on his lap. Imagine how you’d react seeing me doing this”—she gyrated her hips and lewdly thrust out her ass—“wearing only a G-string and a grin.”

“I’m imagining it, all right. Not sure whether a spinning back kick or an uppercut would be most efficient to knock you off his lap.”

“Jesus,” Deacon said under his breath.