by Amity Cross
“I see you had one too many concussions in the UFC,” I snapped. “You had to for you to come back here and stand in front of me.”
A lazy grin pulled at his perfect lips. Lips that housed a tongue that could do the wickedest things to my lady parts. “I missed that mouth of yours.”
Slamming my fist down on the bar, I eyeballed him and snarled, “I stopped caring about you the moment I caught you fucking three whores in your bed. Two leeches on your cock and one on your hand.”
He shrugged, which only added fuel to the fire that was already a blazing inferno.
“They didn’t even stop,” I exclaimed. “I stood there, and they just went on sucking. You didn’t even—” I bit my lip. That night was seared into my brain for eternity. He didn’t even try to stop me when I fled. He didn’t do anything but let his whores continue so he could come all over their giant, fake boobs.
I wanted to beat the shit out of him is what I wanted to do, but standing here and giving him this much was more than he deserved. He didn’t deserve anything. What he did have coming to him was a lifetime of nothing. I hoped he was here because he’d failed miserably in the UFC and was so washed up nobody wanted to know him. A ghost that everyone saw through and pretended didn’t exist. Nothing.
“You’re still angry about that?” he asked, trying to turn on the charm.
He wasn’t serious?
“You need to stay away from me.” I pressed my back against the farthest part of the bar—well out of reach of his slimy paws. “There is no us, Storm. There never was and there never will be. There are plenty of skanks out there who will gladly suck your cock without hesitation.”
“How many other fighters have you been sucking, Lori?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds like you know a thing or two.”
I swallowed down a pile of vomit. “Unlike them, I have class.”
“Ah,” he said slowly, his gaze dropping to my tits and then to my crotch. “You haven’t had anyone else since me? Fuck, Lori. I’m hard just thinking about it.”
“Well,” I said, grabbing the hose that fed the bar with carbonated water. “You’d better cool the fuck down, asshole, because that diseased worm isn’t coming anywhere near me.”
Aiming, I pressed the button, and water shot out, hitting Storm right in the face with surprising accuracy. Customers scrambled to get out of the way while Sandra stood beside me shouting, “Oh my God!” over and over until I holstered the hose.
Storm stared at me in shock as I dusted my hands off. Spinning on my heel, I strode down the length of the bar and out into the crowd. Exit stage left.
What the actual hell? I couldn’t believe he’d come back here, and the first thing he did was sign up for a fight, then come to the bar and sink in the boot. He’d shoved his salt-laden thumbs into the wounds that were still festering in my heart and twisted. I couldn’t believe he was trying to manipulate my weaknesses…and in thirty seconds or less, too. Talk about a pro.
I fully intended to go outside and calm myself down, but a hand curled around my arm just as I was about to push the door open.
“Lori.”
This time, my name had an Irish twang to it, and the tension bled from my body. I let Hamish turn me around, and my gaze met his. Damn, his eyes were green. What was it about the Irish and the color green?
“Are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. He must have been calling out, but my anger had put blinders on me.
“Yeah.”
“You gave that guy a good shower, huh?” His lips quirked as he stifled a grin.
I groaned. “You saw that?”
His grip tightened and so did the muscles between my thighs. “I’m fairly sure everyone saw that.”
“That guy was a douche,” I said, rolling my eyes. Hamish’s touch was becoming borderline inappropriate, so I shook him off.
His eyes narrowed, but he allowed me to step back. “You do know that if you have problems with anyone, I’m happy to sort them out for you. You know the types that hang in these parts. Sometimes, they only understand violence.”
“I know,” I replied, running my palms up and down my bare arms. I wasn’t cold. In fact, I was far from it. “I appreciate it.”
I found myself staring at him, trying to work out the puzzle behind his eyes. That was a pretty accurate description of Goblin. He was a five-thousand-piece puzzle, and I’d only put together the edges. The middle part was still mixed up and unknown. That was the hardest part of them all.
“Who was the guy?” Hamish asked after a moment of silent staring.
Taking a deep breath, I shrugged. “Some new fighter.” Some new fighter? Talk about hedging around the question.
Hamish frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Really…”
“Really what?” I followed his gaze toward the bookies. The chalkboard was full of the new odds for the night, but I hadn’t taken any notice of who was up against who.
“Looks like the boss wants a show tonight,” he replied with a wink. “The big-timer returns, so they put him up against the favorite.”
“You mean you’re up against Storm?” My mouth dropped open for what felt like the millionth time that night, and my shift had only started an hour ago.
“Looks like I’ll get to teach the fucker a lesson in manners after all.”
Before I could formulate a coherent response, Hamish gave me a knee-weakening wink and sauntered off through the crowd.
Storm versus Goblin.
Past flame versus unobtainable crush of the present.
Fight of the century at two to one odds.
I had no words for that except holy shit.
9
Hamish
The lesson I liked to teach the most was with my fists in the cage.
Storm was back and causing trouble already. I didn’t recognize the fucker until Lori said his name, but now I remembered him clear as day. He’d done okay for himself at The Underground, but he loved the spotlight too much. He never won enough fights here to satisfy his need for attention, so he’d set his sights further afield. He’d gone to fight in the UFC in America, and the moment he’d walked out of those doors, everyone forgot him.
Thinking about Josie and her constant pushing to get me into the AUFC, I shook my head. Ten-second fights with referees and television cameras. Soft ass wankers. I didn’t want that. I wasn’t made to fight like that even with all the shit I had to deal with at home.
Storm had probably dropped a great deal of the things that made a fighter great at The Underground, which meant tonight was going to be the most fun I’d had in a very long time. Manners were going to be taught, but he was also going to be shown exactly where he was in the pecking order. On the bottom where he belonged.
Chuckling to myself as I relived the moment Lori had doused the little asswipe with soda water, I began to mentally prepare myself for the fight that was going down in the next twenty minutes. Striding through the crowd, I pushed into the fighter-only area and into the changing rooms with one thing on my mind. Smashing Storm’s face in.
I came to a halt just inside the room and raised my eyebrows at the scene before me. A group of men was huddled together, talking earnestly among themselves, but it was the ringleader who had me curling my lip in distaste.
In the middle of the wall of testosterone was Storm himself, his hair still conspicuously wet, lording it up like a king. I eyed Rebel across the room, and he shrugged. Rebel was a good guy and equal first in the rankings with me for the Championship. If I lost to him, I wouldn’t mind because he was the only other bloke in the place who seemed to adhere to good sportsmanship. That, and second place was still real good money. If I lost to any of these other idiots? Heads would roll.
Staring at the group of fighters, I narrowed my eyes. It was like the prodigal son had returned. After two years away making it big, he’d come back with his tail between his legs. He would’ve dropped out because there was no way he’d chance coming here if he had a
contract. Shit, sponsors would drop him without hesitation if they knew he was fighting illegally.
Storm had been kicked out of the UFC. No doubt about it. Now he was flaunting his experience to idiots who were too stupid to go pro in the first place.
“In the welterweight, the guys are tougher,” Storm was saying. “There’s more bulk involved, so you need more skill to bring them down.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to my locker, wrenching the door open. It slammed against the one next to it, the bang echoing through the room, causing a slight lull in the dickhead’s boasting behind me.
“What do you think, Goblin?” he called out to me. “You’re the right size for welterweight.”
I knew he was taking a dig, trying to get me to bite, but the only place he was getting his head knocked off was inside the cage in the next fifteen minutes. Instead, I pulled out the wraps from my bag, shoved my thumb through the loop, and began wrapping up my left hand.
Voices murmured behind me, and I went on, ignoring the lot of them. That was until a hand came to rest on the locker beside mine.
“Well…Goblin?”
“I have a fight to get ready for,” I drawled, not even looking up. “Which is what you should be doin’ since you’re drawn with me.”
Storm laughed and glanced over his shoulder. Leaning close, he muttered, “So I hear you and Lori are a thing.”
My jaw tensed, and this time, I glanced at the little fucker. “I also heard the way you spoke to her.”
“Sorry, man,” he said, smiling like an arrogant little tosser. “If I’d known you two were fucking…”
“We’re not fuckin’,” I said, fixing the Velcro closure around my wrist. “We’re friends, and I’m lookin’ out for her.”
“A man can’t be just friends with a woman like Lori,” he said, adjusting his cock. “She’s something, all right.”
A stab of jealousy shot through my chest, and I snorted. Storm wasn’t done with her even after she’d made it absolutely clear she wanted nothing to do with the guy. He was still an arrogant asshole, and I was itching for our fight to start so I could pound some sense into his thick skull.
“So what happened with the UFC?” I asked, turning the tables. Storm’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “If you’re under contract, it’d be a shame for them to find out you were fightin’ here.”
“I’m done with the UFC,” he replied, his voice sounding thin with restraint.
I smirked and began wrapping my right hand. “Yeah? That’s a real shame, brother.”
He slammed his fist against the locker and stalked off, hopefully someplace far away where he could work himself up into a ball of rage. An overly angry opponent in the cage was easier to work than a level-headed one, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try to use the same tactic against me.
Securing the wrap on my right hand, I glanced up as Rebel leaned against the locker next to me.
“I’d be watching him,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “They’re dazzled by the bright lights now, but I give it a couple of days tops until there’s a huge target on his back.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” I replied, closing my locker with a bang. “I plan to be teachin’ him a lesson he’ll not soon forget.”
“Good for you,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Saves me the effort of doing it myself.”
“Storm, Goblin,” a voice bellowed across the change room. “You’re up.”
“Rip him a new one, eh?” Rebel said, moving off.
Snorting, I ignored the eyes that watched my progress and followed the referee out into the arena. Out here, the air was filled with the same aura of bullshit that had been present among the other fighters. They wanted to see if the big-time UFC fighter could hold his own against the top placegetter on the leaderboard.
It was like one of those stupid movies with the rich kid and the disadvantaged scumbag from the wrong side of the tracks. No guessing which one I was meant to be.
I kicked my trainers off at the edge of the cage and padded into the light, the crowd beginning to get louder and louder as Storm approached from behind.
Wearing his silky UFC shorts and fancy hand wraps, he was jumping around on the spot, loosening his arm muscles and throwing his head from side to side. I just stood on my side of the line and stared at him like he was a monkey in a fucking zoo.
“Ready?” the referee asked, nodding at me.
I narrowed my eyes at Storm. “Yep.”
“Toe the line,” the referee barked at Storm, who stopped bouncing and stood before me. “Do you need a refresher on the rules?”
“Nope, I’m good,” he replied, staring at me.
The referee held up his hand. “Then get to fighting, boys.” He backed away, and it was on.
Neither of us attempted to make the first move, so we eyeballed each other until Storm couldn’t hold in whatever smartass comment he was dying to tell me.
“What do you think of those little sounds she makes?” he asked, his lip curling into a smile.
I glared at him, waiting for him to drop his guard.
“She’s a wildcat,” he said, licking his lips. “The sweetest pussy I’ve ever—”
I sucker-punched him right in the mouth, effectively cutting off his foul tirade about Lori. His head snapped to the side, and the crowd cheered, their feet thundering against the bleachers. Storm spat blood onto the ground, and we began circling.
“You say you’re friends, but your actions say otherwise,” he said, grinning at me, his teeth red with blood. “Just so you know, I saw her first. From behind, on top, from below… My face in her pussy, my finger in her ass…”
I went to open my mouth, but he dived, and his fist clipped my eyebrow. He smiled in triumph as I stumbled from the lucky blow. It took a second for the blood to rush to the cut, but soon enough, I felt it drip down my face. Wiping the back of my hand across my brow, I hardly felt the sting.
Storm circled with a grin on his face that said he thought he had the fight in the bag, but he was too cocky. One hit didn’t mean shit here. One hit had shocked me back into the bout with renewed energy. Seemed like he’d forgotten a great deal of things where cage fighting was concerned.
He lunged again, going for a blow to my temple, and I raised my arms, blocking the punch and locking us together. Grappling, we wrestled one another until Storm’s foot slipped from underneath him. While he was off balance, I pushed him backward across the floor, the momentum growing and growing until we collided with the side of the cage. The crowd moved back from the fence as the entire structure rattled, and I pinned him in place.
“You’ve gone soft, Storm,” I said, elbowing his face and shoving it into the side of the cage. “No one’s going to separate us. No one’s going to disqualify me. Your ass is mine.”
“So you are fucking her,” he said, his teeth red with blood. “She was mine first, Goblin. My cock has been in her mouth.”
I felt my control slipping as anger swelled inside me. I couldn’t let him get to me. I had to win, not just for Lori but to remind Storm to rein in his foul attitude. What I was about to do to him was kind. Ironic considering I was beating the guy up, but this way, he might see some sense and tone his arrogance down before he ended up in the hospital or a ditch someplace.
Wrapping my arm around his neck, I heaved him away from the edge of the cage and hooked my leg around his. He went down like a sack of potatoes, landing flat on his face.
“You need some fuckin’ manners,” I said, ramming my knee into his lower back. “You don’t talk about Lori like that, period. You don’t talk about any woman like that, you hear me?”
“Fuck you!” he roared as he bucked against me, but I had him pinned to the ground like the helpless little worm he was.
Fisting my hand into his hair, I snarled, “Last chance to tap, Storm.”
He bucked again, which I took to mean he’d rather win or die trying. That was as good as say
ing no in my book. I could definitely help him with the latter if he was that determined.
“This is your last warnin’,” I said. “Stay away from her, or I’ll put you down for good.”
Pulling Storm’s head back, I slammed it into the ground, the shock of the blow vibrating up my arm as his entire body went slack. I held for a second, but he didn’t move. KO’d. Talk about a fucking full stop.
As I shoved to my feet, the crowd began to cheer and stomp on the bleachers. The referee went to grab my arm and raise it to declare me the winner, but I pushed him away and walked straight out of the cage, blood still dripping from the cut over my eyebrow.
Maybe it was the buzz from beating Storm’s ass, or maybe it was the testosterone, but I carved a path through The Underground…straight to the bar.
10
Lori
I couldn’t leave the bar.
Knowing that Storm and Goblin were currently duking it out in the cage had me wired, and I paced up and down, desperate to see what was going on. I had never been interested in watching the fights, not to the point I wanted a ringside seat, but tonight, I was itching to see who had the upper hand.
I hoped it was Hamish because Storm had an ass beating coming to him.
The crowd let out a collective ohhh as someone landed a hit, and I squirmed.
“What’s up your ass?” Sandra asked. “You’re pacing like a hungry lion.” She gestured to the empty bar, waving her hand like a model gesturing to the grand showcase prize pack on a game show. “We never get lulls. Enjoy the silence, Lori. Enjoy it.”
The last thing I wanted to do was explain my raised anxiety levels. Then the questions would start, and I didn’t want to be flapping my gums about what happened with Storm. It was humiliating enough, and if it began to spread around The Underground, I may as well just curl up into a ball and cry endless tears of humiliation.