Claiming The Prize (4 page)

The Friar put on a look of amusement before
continuing.

“
Your weight and strength won't be an
advantage to rely on.
Grace is more experienced and more flexible.
Remember, leverage is the name of this game.”

Grace circled as Jeremy moved toward her,
eyes alert.
Staring him in the eye, she intuitively read his body
movements, where his balance rested, how his eyes tracked,
anticipating his steps before he acted.
Carson began encouraging
Henner to shoot, coaching him on his footwork from the mat's edge.
Jeremy changed levels and wrapped Grace's legs with his arms,
amazed at how deep he had penetrated with the shot.
Ecstatic as he
felt them falling toward the mat, he realized he would end up in
Grace's guard.
A moment too late, he understood his fatal
error.

She hadn't sprawled to defend the takedown
because she welcomed it.
Her arms came around under his neck the
moment he committed to the move, and before they hit the mat Grace
locked in a Guillotine choke, forcing Jeremy to tap out within
twenty seconds.
Several more attempts were made, each ending with
Henner tapping his submission.

The Friar was satisfied.
He had accomplished
his goals for the day.
Grace had a larger, stronger partner she
wasn't familiar with to practice on, Henner now understood how
great was his need for instruction, and the Slovak had witnessed
the superiority of Antolini jujitsu, as a petite young woman of
only one hundred-ten pounds had easily dispatched a young buck with
two years of some other jujitsu training under his belt, and who
outweighed her by thirty pounds.

“
That's a day, Grace,” the Friar
announced.
“Good work.
Thursday we'll work on defending
chokes.”

The sweet, fresh-faced smile Grace wore
belonged on someone who had just visited her frail grandmother or
taught a child to read, not on the perpetrator of the disabling
moves Drago had just witnessed.
His gaze followed her across the
room, and instinct spoke within his heart.
She was of his world,
she was grounded, was beautiful inside and out, and he wanted to
know her completely.
Drago Zadrovec was fascinated.

* * *

St.
Clair worked the two men until he saw the
telltale signs of fatigue necessary to ensure that uninhibited
skill and heart would be revealed inside the ring.
Checking the
tape on their hands, he ordered the donning of protective head gear
and mouthpieces.

Carson strutted around the ring, his golden
eyes gleaming with the anticipation of humiliating this new
opponent.
Drago, quite the opposite, stood stock still, swilling a
mouthful of water as he mentally ran through a series of
combinations.
His face devoid of any emotion, Drago fixed his gaze
above the heads of the onlookers and approached the ring's
center.

“
All right, I want to see clean
striking in round one.
Ground game is open in the second round,”
St.
Clair informed the two.
“Touch gloves, guys.”

At the bell, the fighters closed the gap
separating them, each eager to establish their pace, their style,
and for thirty seconds, the tentative in and out, side to side
movement played out.
Grace looked on with Jeremy beside her,
betraying no hint of the tense energy brewing in the pit of her
stomach.

Carson jabbed.
Drago evaded.
Again, Carson
advanced, looking to land his powerful jab, but the Slovak
side-stepped and countered with a jarring left followed by an
uppercut, snapping Khaler's head back.
A few seconds of footwork
repositioned them back in the center of the ring.
Drago stepped
back, bounced, and then unleashed his hands in an impressive
combination.
As Carson shook it off, Drago landed a heavy leg kick
to his opponent's left calf.

For the next two minutes Drago skillfully
landed jab after jab and continued punishing the left leg, picking
Khaler apart.
Carson, out of necessity switched his stance, putting
the right leg forward, his left appendage suffering the effects of
the damaging leg strikes.

Knowing the success his leg attacks were
having, Drago now relentlessly focused on the right calf in between
his jabs.
Pressing forward, he released his hands anew, delivering
one punishing blow after another and backing his opponent against
the ropes.
Khaler brought his hands up to protect himself
instinctively, and when he did, Drago unloaded powerful body shots,
knowing they would force Carson to lower his arms to protect his
mid-section.

In perfect choreography, Drago swung his
right leg up and connected with Carson's exposed head, delivering
the infamous and lightening quick kick-of-death Yves had spoken of.
Grace inhaled sharply as the violent blow reduced Carson to a heap
on the navy and gray canvas.

Drago turned around immediately at landing
the kick and walked calmly to his corner, not even glancing back at
Khaler.
His expression remained unqualified even as his actions
revealed his complete confidence in the finality of the blow.

“
Sweet Jesus!”
St.
Clair
bellowed.

His eyes immediately went to Grace's, and he
added with a sheepish grin, “Forgive me for taking the Lord's name,
Gracie girl.”

Jeremy was aiding the assistant icing Drago's
neck by pouring water into the Slovak's mouth as St.
Clair and
another checked out Khaler, who had regained his feet.

“
We have ourselves a striker!”
Saint
beamed.
“Carson, you okay there?”
he chuckled.

“
Yeah,” Carson answered.

His awkward gait belied his assurances.

Grace was stunned.
She had known no one able
to deliver such fierce kicks besides Anto, and she had certainly
not anticipated the clear superiority of Drago's stand up.
Who was
this man that in conversation was soft spoken and subdued, yet in
the ring bared such intensity?
And why did she feel so drawn to
him?

After a few minutes and at last convinced
that Carson had recovered sufficiently to continue, St.
Clair
marked the onset of round two.
From the balcony overhead, Guy
Antolini turned around to return to his office.
He had seen all he
needed to.
His instincts had been dead-on.

Once again the men circled the ring.
Carson,
more cautious than before, knew he needed to take Drago to the mat.
On their feet, Zadrovec was landing punches at will.
When another
right kick from Drago landed on his bruised calf, Carson changed
levels and took them to the canvas, landing in Drago's full
guard.

Drago clutched Carson's neck tightly and
wrapped his legs up, allowing no separation between them, stopping
Carson from being able to capitalize on his dominant position.
Carson attempted to snake his arm around Drago's neck and under the
shoulder, working toward a choke, but the Slovakian managed to
repel his efforts while working his legs higher around Khaler's
back.
The move was an effort to set up a triangle choke, and Carson
deftly repositioned himself to eliminate the threat.
Henner, St.
Clair, and the others began to shout out to the men caught in
stalemate.
With most of the advice being directed towards Carson,
Grace determined to coach Zadrovec.
Her voice, with its higher
pitch, carried above the din as she calmly but quickly spoke her
directions.

“
Drago, keep the right arm trapped and
slide your hips to that side...Good.
Bring your left arm against
his neck.
Pressure!
Pressure!”

Carson recovered Drago's hips expertly,
undoing any progress he had made.

“
Again!”
Grace commanded.

She was pleased that he was taking her
advice, so she ignored the fact that her cheeks were burning.
She
didn't coach fighters unless assigned to do so in the gym to avoid
rumors of favoritism.
Today, for the first time, she broke her own
rule.
Her mind raced, one moment ordering the next maneuver, the
next hoping she was not humiliating the Slovak in assuming he would
want her coaching.

“
Stand up now, Drago,” she encouraged.
“Watch for the knee on your up-step.”

Carson realized he could not keep the fight
on the ground any longer and stood along with Drago.
At the
shove-off, Drago slammed an uppercut into Carson's chin.
He
recoiled at the heavy-handed blow, immediately dropping to take
Drago down again.

Though hurt as he was, Carson, Grace knew,
would keep a cool head, methodically working to submit Zadrovec
before the five minute round ended.
With Carson having the upper
hand on the ground, Grace called out her instructions in rapid
succession.
Drago followed her every word, but without Antolini
jujitsu experience behind him, he struggled in the battle for
position.
Even though Carson now had control, Drago continued to
strike from the bottom.
The headgear absorbed the blows that would
certainly be doing considerable damage in a real fight.
When Carson
managed at last to secure an arm bar, Drago fought to escape before
submitting.
Carson whooped at his victory, showboating around the
ring, but Drago returned to his corner with the same calmness he
had exhibited after his own earlier victory.
As Jeremy iced his
neck and offered water, Grace spoke quietly in Drago's ear.

“
Do you want me continue in your
corner?”

His head snapped around to look her in the
eye.

“
Very much,” he stated.

Grace immediately slipped into coaching mode.
Still close to his ear, she went on.

“
Take deep breaths.
Keep this round
standing as long as possible.
Carson will look for the takedown
early, so be prepared to sprawl.
Get back on the lead leg with the
calf kick, it's hurting him.
Go for the high kick, but look for the
body kick as well.
And don't drop your hands when you throw the
leg.
Carson likes to step inside if he suspects a kick is coming,
and he has real power.”

Drago nodded.

“
Breathe,” she repeated as he rose for
the third and final practice round.

Drago was satisfied.
He had not expected to
compete on the ground with Khaler so soon, but was encouraged that
he had lasted nearly the entire five minutes before being
submitted, even managing an escape.
Antolini jujitsu was the next
step in perfecting his technique, and he would learn all he could
while here in preparation for his AMMAO debut.
Grace's willingness
to coach him through his ground game sparked a hope inside him he
hadn't acknowledged in years.

The exhausting day at an end, Drago savored
the healing power of the jetted shower water massaging his muscles
before re-entering the locker room to prepare for the evening.
Donning dark jeans and a black, long-sleeved jersey that clung to
his chiseled form, Drago fastened the gold, orthodox double cross
around his neck.
It had been given to him on his confirmation by
his parents.
He wore it whenever he wasn't in the gym, in memory of
the loving parents taken from him unexpectedly.

Mihovil and Sarai Zadrovec had been a loving
and generous couple.
Saying goodbye to their son, who stayed behind
with Mihovil's brother, Slavko and his family, they had traveled
south along the Adriatic coast bringing food, medicine, and Bibles
to a few destitute villages nestled inland.
They thought to be away
only three weeks.
Ethnic tensions ran deep within the war torn
territory of what was formerly Yugoslavia, and while the couple
slept, they were robbed and murdered.
Whether for money or racial
hatred, he never found out.
He was thankful that his Uncle Slavko
and Aunt Visnja had kept him and raised him alongside their own
children, and despite the tragedy, Drago had enjoyed a home with
much love and closeness with his aunt and uncle's family.
They
fostered the deep faith his parents had instilled in him, a faith
he had recklessly abandoned at the beginning of his career.

His early success had created something of a
celebrity status for him in his country, and that fact left him
rarely wanting for female companionship.
Running in the circles of
young, Slovakian elite, the steps away from the roots of his faith
were small, but many.
Before he realized what had happened, he was
far from the Savior he claimed to love.
The day he suffered a
devastating defeat in Japan, the house of cards he had built for
himself collapsed around him.

It was the best thing that could have
happened.

He had been badly injured during a fight.
Vanessa Kane, the woman who claimed to love him, had shown him just
how empty his life had become by casting him aside thoughtlessly in
favor of one of the night's victors.
Painful as it had been, it was
a blessing from God.
Drago learned then that physical pain could be
endured more easily than inner turmoil.
He learned that faith and
family were the stable rocks one could cling to in the storms of
life, and that the partner he desired in life would have to share
his faith, must be beautiful inside, loyal, and would love him,
Drago Zadrovec, not the image of a fighter.
It was a turning point
in his life.

His restored relationship with the Lord
grounded and refocused him.
It had brought him to where he was
today.
Today, where his career hinged between two worlds.
Today,
where a dark haired beauty captured a piece of his heart.
Tonight,
where he was eager to spend an evening alone with her.

Even if it would be only a trip to a local
grocery store, he mused to himself.

Activity behind him jarred Drago from his
thoughts.
Turning, he observed Carson Khaler sauntering up to the
sink and mirror.
He, too, had plans for the evening, it seemed.
Drago packed his red duffel bag, glad to have something to focus
his attention on rather than the only other person in the locker.
Finishing his task, Drago slung the nylon strap over his
leather-jacketed shoulder and headed for the door.
When he passed
Carson, the man cut the silence between them.

“
Hey, Drago, you got a
minute?”

Drago stopped, giving a nod.

“
Look, I noticed you watching Grace
today, that you had lunch together in her office, that she cornered
you this afternoon...,” He put a sympathetic look on before
continuing.
“Watch yourself, man.”

Carson paused, knowing that if Drago asked
for more information, he would set his hook.
But Drago, in this
situation as in the ring, wore an unqualified expression, neither
friendly nor contemptuous.
After the awkward silence hung a moment,
Drago simply nodded and began to walk away.

“
Wait a minute,” Carson conceded.
“What
I'm saying is that everyone at First Strike knows that Grace
Antolini is off-limits.
Guy's real funny about his daughter, man.
I
just don't want to see you get on his bad side, being the newbie
and all.
Besides,” he smiled lecherously, “I've worked every angle
there is on Gracie in the two years I've been here.
If anybody here
was gonna gain the old man's blessing and finally break that shit
in, it would've been me.”

Drago understood perfectly.
Carson
wanted Grace Antolini, but she wasn't interested.
Had the bastard
actually said,
break that shit
in
?
He wanted to break Khaler's jaw right now.
Drago's
eyes grew dark at Carson's words, their black glint feral and
disturbing as he responded.

“
Guy or no, have respect when you speak
about the man's daughter.
Any interest I may have for Grace
Antolini is not your concern.”

Having made himself clear, he walked away.
Carson's words echoed in the locker behind him.

“
Hey, I was just trying to help you
out, man.
Relax.”

Overhead lighting illuminated the reception
desk and entrance of First Strike.
The rest of the gym was dark,
save the upstairs offices where the coaches gathered for the weekly
status reports.
Grace sat behind the main desk studying the
computer screen as Drago emerged from the dark interior.

“
You are working yet?”
he asked with a
hint of surprise.

Grace startled when his deep voice broke the
quiet, but a smile replaced her surprise quickly.

“
Not exactly.
I was just sending
schedules to the printer.
It can do the work after I'm
gone.”

Laughing at her own perceived wit, Grace
exited the system, ready to call it a day.
The gust of cold air
caused them both to turn toward the entrance as Savannah Jameson
clicked across the polished entryway in black, heeled boots.
Five-feet eight-inches tall, lean and pretty Savannah worked for
the local paper's sports desk.
She popped in periodically for
information on an article she was assigned or to talk with Guy
about local upcoming events.
Slightly older than Grace at
twenty-seven years old, Savannah was a knockout.
Blond hair like
golden silk draped over her shoulders in heavy, loose waves.
Deep
blue eyes, set above smooth, peach cheeks bright from the cold,
gazed around the building confidently.
Always dressed well, she
never failed to capture attention when she entered a room.

“
Hi, Savannah,” Grace said in surprise.
“Guy's in a meeting...,”

“
Oh, I'm not here for work,” Savannah
clarified.
“I'm here for Carson.”

“
Vannah!
Over here!”
Carson called
out.

Grace turned, expecting to find Drago engaged
in appreciation of Savannah Jameson, but his gaze was firmly fixed
on her.
She was more than a little pleased.

“
Are you ready for an exciting grocery
run?”
she laughed easily, making sport of their less than exotic
plans.
“Let's go.”

They headed for the door when Grace
stopped.

“
Sorry, I forgot my bag.”

Carson and Savannah were now in front of the
desk, and Carson grabbed her bag and handed it to her.

“
Where are you two going?”

“
Well,” Grace hesitated, looking over
her shoulder at Drago before answering.
“Are you hungry,
Drago?”

“
Very,” he replied, peering directly
into her eyes.

“
We're going to dinner then,” Grace
informed Carson, turning back toward Drago.
“My father suggested
that I take you out and feed you after the day you put
in.”

Grace had no idea about their earlier
conversation, so without intent she rubbed salt into the festering
wound of jealousy in Carson's heart.

Drago raised an eyebrow when Carson's glare
locked on him at Grace's revelation that Guy had recommended they
dine together.
Carson looked away, and with that, Drago held the
door, the pair walking into the cold, starry evening.

* * *

Drago and Grace shared a fabulous dinner at
The Levant, a Persian restaurant, talking easily throughout the
meal.
Drago insisted on paying the bill when it arrived, refusing
Grace's offer to pay half.

“
Allow me to pay, Grace.
It will make
me happy if you accept.”

“
I'll accept on one condition,” Grace
stated.

“
And what condition would that be?”
Drago asked, an odd smile crossing his countenance.

“
That you allow me to pay for coffee if
it is not too late when we finish at the store.”

“
I accept your terms,” he responded
rather seriously.

Seriously enough that Grace wondered if she
had said something rude – he was from a foreign country.
Bothered,
she wanted to clear up any misunderstanding quickly.

“
Drago, did I offend you?”
she inquired
tentatively.

He remained quiet a few breath's space before
gently questioning her.

“
Grace, do you only trade favors with
me?
Is that what we are doing?”

She thought a moment, carefully considering
her response.

“
I don't want only to trade favors with
you, no.
I meant to show that I didn't mind if it cost me something
to enjoy your companionship.”

“
Will you have this coffee with me if I
do not agree to your conditions?”
he pressed her, having grasped a
better understanding of her words.

Grace was smiling in spite of the serious
exchange.

“
I will.”

“
Then I do not agree to your
conditions, but I would like to drink coffee with you, Grace
Antolini.”

The smile that tied her in knots was spread
across his face as they entered the store.

Drago was impressed with the massive Kashi's
grocery store.
Up and down every aisle they went.
Drago inspected
the rows of goods in amazement as well as the deli, meat counter,
cheese assortments, fish market, and bakery, all housed within one
building.
He didn't buy much.

Grace explained the purpose of the comparison
tags listing pricing per ounce, knowing he used the metric system,
and Drago commented on the vast selection amongst like products.
Rounding the corner, they entered the baby aisle, the fresh smell
of talcum powder filling their noses.
Drago kept his unhurried
pace, and to Grace's surprise, he examined these products just as
thoroughly.

“
Do you hope for children one day,
Grace?”

“
I do,” she answered honestly,
continuing to read the labels.

Drago smiled to himself at her answer.

“
I do, too.”

They steadily browsed, comparing their tastes
in food, finding they liked many of the same foods, but prepared
them differently.

The hour was early enough that they decided
to go for coffee.
Dropping their purchases at home, Grace
discovered her father was still out, and wanted to stop by the gym
on their way.

“
The meeting must have run late
tonight.
Either they got into some serious strategy planning, or
they talked all night!”

“
Do you think your father would like to
come with us?”
Drago asked.