Body Lock: MMA Sports Romance (19 page)

"You are a sick bastard," I say.

"Just you wait and see," he says smiling. "I got ways to tame a girl like you. You're gonna learn to like it rough."

I'm shaking with anger. If Jans heard him say these things, he'd kill him. I can’t imagine sleeping with this slime bag. Whatever Jans’ plan is, he has to get us out of here. I'd rather die than have to go to this man's bed.

I miss the introduction of the first fighter that enters the octagon. He's Asian and incredibly fit. Smaller than Jans but incredibly fast. The fight goes for over four minutes. Long enough I start to worry for Jans. Twice the Asian has him in a body lock but Jans breaks free. They’re on their feet circling each other.

The Asian swings in high and when Jans ducks low his opponent sidesteps and takes Jans’ arm. His legs fly up around Jans’ waist and he twists back in a motion so fast I barely follow it. I see Jans’ face contort in pain as he’s spun around and lands hard on the mat. The crowd goes wild screaming. It's the first fight, Jans can't lose now.

"Holy fuck," Sammy exclaims next to me.

"Boy’s in trouble," Big Tony says.

"Just wait," Vinnie says calmly.

The Asian has Jans pinned. His legs are scissor locked across Jans’ midsection and he’s pulling his arm back. He has a full arm bar and if Jans doesn't submit, his shoulder will be dislocated. A quiet falls over the building, no one is saying a word waiting breathless, waiting to see if Jans will tap out. It's so quiet I can hear Jans groaning. The Asian’s groaning, too, as he strains to put more force on Jans’ shoulder.

Any second now, it's got to give. Jans strikes the Asian’s legs with his free elbow. Hitting the thigh repeatedly with fast, hard blows to that major muscle. I don't see how it happens but Jans’ attack must have been successful as suddenly he curls forward, lifts his legs over his head and rolls out of the arm bar.

Jans uses the momentum of his rise swinging with his good arm hitting the Asian in the chin. The other fighter’s head rocks back and he's lifted off of his feet as Jans rises up into the blow. Blood flies and the smaller man flips over then lands on the mat with a solid thud. Jans leaps onto his back and gets a choke hold.

The referee grabs Jans pulling him off of the Asian, but Jans won't let go. I hear him screaming, a primal sound, and the crowd screams with him. Someone starts chanting and the crowd takes it up.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

I'm sick. I can't believe what I'm witnessing. It's so raw, so base, these people have become animals. The men in the box are jumping up and down and shouting too. I hear cries of ‘did you see that? Holy shit!’ They're so excited to watch my man win.

Jans lets go as the ref drags him away. I can see from here that his left shoulder is purple and damaged. My stomach sinks as I realize how hard this is going to be. He's good, he's the best, but who can take on this many opponents? One mistake is all it's going to take and they won't stop. Jans will be killed.

“That was a pretty good fight,” Sammy says taking my hand again.

I hold my head down hiding my face with my hair because I don't want anybody in this room to see that I'm crying. The beating that Jans took was bad. I'm scared for him, for me, and most of all I'm scared for our unborn child. I cross my arms over my belly like I can protect the small life inside of me from what’s happening. Somehow I have to.

Jans is led out of the octagon and his opponent is carried out on a stretcher. Jans walks like nothing is wrong and that gives me hope that he's okay. I pull my hand away from Sammy again and wipe away the tears behind my hair then hold my head up high, steeling my resolve to push through this. Sammy slides in behind me and wraps his arms around my waist and puts his hands over my sex. I can't suppress the shudder that runs down my spine. Vinnie glances over and looks me up and down with those dead, empty eyes of his. There's an instant where I think he might help, might stand up for me and make this monster let me go. It's only an instant because Vinnie nods and turns back to talking with Big Tony.

I roll my eyes realizing, not for the first time in my life, that I'm on my own. Sammy nuzzles through my hair searching for my neck so I stomp my foot down hard on top of his toes and am rewarded with his squeak. I step forward breaking his grip and refuse to turn around to look at him. He's not worthy of my attention.

"You fucking bitch," Sammy mutters softly so that I'm sure only I can hear it. "The things I'm going to do to that fine body of yours."

I stare out the window pinning all my hopes on Jans’ return. He has thirty minutes to prepare for the next fight. It's the longest thirty minutes of my life. Each second drags by like a small eternity. Sammy is apparently bored with me because he wanders over to talk to some of the other men. I bury myself into the far corner of the room and watch out the window. The crowd starts returning to their seats so it must be close to time for the next fight. A few minutes later and the announcer enters the ring and proclaims ‘the Dragon’ as the reigning champ. Then the lights come up and the music blares. Jans walks down the hall towards the octagon and some girl leans over the railing to wrap her arms around him and kiss him. Jealousy flares up. Two security guards grab her and drag her off as the crowd laughs. Jans’ face is covered with her lipstick and it creates a cold fire in my belly.

He enters the ring, goes to his corner, and then stands waiting. He's not displaying any of his normal behavior. No bouncing, no holding his hands up or playing the crowd. He stands ready, stoic. The announcer introduces the next fighter as ‘the Bear’. He’s a taller man, white, with thick black hair that covers most of his body. He's definitely got Jans on reach and probably bulk, too. The two men touch wrapped fists in the middle of the ring then the bell sounds and they race at each other.

They collide in the middle and it's like two thunderclouds striking. There's a flurry of motion and I see Jans’ head rock from one side to the other. Jans ducks down and there’s an instant I think he's going to drop, knocked out, but he hooks the other man between his legs, lifts him up and flips him over slamming him to the ground. Jans rolls with him to land on top. The Bear struggles, wailing and Jans fails to get a grip on his arm but then Jans has his leg. Jans leans back hard taking the man's right leg with him and holding it in a lock. Jans doesn't move slow, he moves with such rapidity that the big man's leg bends to an unnatural angle and his screams can be heard above the noise of the crowd. Jans releases him, rising to his corner. The man stays on the ground rolling side to side and holding his leg which is still sitting at an odd angle. Jans stands staring coldly. The referee rushes in then calls for medics. The second fight is over.

My left shoulder is killing me. It throbs with a constant, burning ache and I can barely move it. When I lifted my last opponent up something tore inside of it. I'm going to have to be careful. I have more fights to get through.

"I'm going to call these fights," Dr. Chris, the medic looking at my shoulder, says.

"Yeah, you try that."

He looks up at me about to argue but I see the fear in his eyes. He knows who he works for and these men don't care. The crowd out there doesn't care either. They want blood, they want carnage, that's what they paid money for. I'm the best and they’re all hoping I fail. The crowd loves it when an underdog wins. That's an old adage but what no one thinks about is that the reason they love it isn't because the underdog won but because the big guy lost. Tonight I'm the big guy they all want to see fall.

Dr. Chris packs ice on my shoulder and it helps a bit. I let all my other worries drift away gaining my focus. Centering myself in the place I go to fight. A place where pain doesn't matter, concerns and fear have no room. It takes a certain kind of mindset to walk into an octagon knowing your only purpose and intention is to destroy the man facing you. The feeling of my fist pounding into flesh is exhilarating. I can't think about my opponent as a man. I don't think about him and his concerns, his family, his worries. I think about him as nothing more than an obstacle to beat. He could be a wall for all it matters to me, I'm going to bring him down. It's a hard cold place I have to go. In this place, I know they can't do anything to me. It's not that I'm separate from the pain or that I can't be injured, it's that I know I can survive it. They can do nothing to me that I can't endure and come out on top of.

"That's the best I can do," Dr. Chris says.

I nod. I'm becoming the Dragon, the Dragon doesn't talk, the Dragon prevails.

Dr. Chris leaves and I'm alone. Most fighters have their crew with them, trainers, girlfriends, what the fuck ever. I like the quiet. I don't want distractions or noise. Someone knocks on the door and one of the guards sticks his head in to give me the two-minute warning. I get up and start moving. I have to loosen and warm my muscles to be ready for the next fight. I grab a jump rope and start skipping through it but the shoulder twinges hard and I can't keep my rhythm. I'm going to have to adjust my strategies. I don't know who my next opponent is, which is probably the worst part of this setup that Vinnie created. Normally I know my opponents and I can study their fights ahead of time, have an idea of what they're going to do and when they're going to do it. Tonight I'm flying blind.

"It's time, Jans," the guard says.

I walk out and down the dark hallway. Two guards flank me as Axel falls in beside me.

"How's the shoulder?" my brother asks.

I look at him and don't say a word. He's not an idiot and he knows how bad it is. The Dragon doesn't need platitudes.

We emerge and the crowd goes wild. The people around me are a blur. My focus is on the all-consuming octagon. It's all I see, it's all I know, everything else is background noise. The low buzz of screams and cheers is just a distraction. I storm down the path to the octagon. I know other fighters like to dance and put on a show but tonight is too important. I'm not here for their entertainment, I'm here to win. I walk through the open gate go to my corner and turn ready to face my next opponent. The man who comes out is short and stocky. He's pale and his close-cut hair looks blond, I'm guessing he’s from somewhere in Europe. The other families have gone all out to find somebody who can beat me. They pulled from every hidden pool around the world and spent unknown amounts of money. All for that one single goal, I guess I should be flattered.

"I want a clean fight, you both know the rules, are you ready to battle?" the ref asks.

We both nod and touch fists before returning to our corners. I stare at him across the cage. A mighty gulf sits between us into which we’re both about to dive and only one of us will emerge. A cold sweat passes across my skin, I’m excited.

The bell rings and my opponent charges fast. He's faster than I expect him to be and makes it past the halfway point. It's a small thing but it's the kind of thing that sets the tone for a match. I like to be the first one across the mid-line, take the fight to his territory. It's a mental battle more than anything, a way of intimidating your opponent on a subtle level.

He races at me so instead of moving to meet him I drop into a defensive stance and receive him where I am. His left hand is held back and his right is forward. So he's trying to make me believe he's a southpaw. The way he holds his shoulders tells me something else. I think he's trying to throw me off. Before he reaches me he drops his right shoulder and hooks his arm. Instead of going for the punch he's trying my move and going to hook me in the solar plexus. I realize what he's doing and decide to give him a surprise. I drop and roll coming up behind him hooking my left arm around his throat and then I pull back.

My shoulder explodes in pain and I see stars as I hook my hand with my right and squeeze. He throws himself backwards using the fence, so I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. He struggles against me as I work the hold. I'm cutting off the oxygen to his brain and hoping to choke him out in the first two seconds. I have to hurry because I'm not sure how long my shoulder will hold out. He drives elbows into both of my thighs and the muscles weaken under his assault. I drive both my feet down between his legs and hook them behind his thighs. I use it as leverage to pull back harder on his neck. My vision is clearing from the pain in my shoulder as I grow accustomed to it. The ceiling flashes by as he falls backwards and I land with a hard thud on the mat but I maintain my grip. At last I feel his hand fluttering on my thigh. The ref rushes in and pulls us apart.

I've won the third fight. I look up at the observation box and I can feel LeAnne looking. A flutter of something passes through my stomach and I recognize it as fear. I'm scared of what they might be doing up there. I don't want her anywhere near Vinnie, and Sammy Costa is probably up there, too. What is she having to do? God dammit, I have to push that aside. My plan is solid. A few more fights and it goes into action. I just have to keep winning.