In the locker room, my other crew waited to greet me. They weren’t as down at the mouth as my cage crew. We were bloody killers – every one of us. Lynn Montoya, Clint Dostiene, Lucas Blake, Casey Lambert, and Denny Strobert knew survival meant everything. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get the raggin’ of my life.
Lucas started them off, standing in front of me with his gnarly Marine drill sergeant face, leaning forward, hands on hips. “You big pussy! What the hell were you thinking? You’re Marine Recon! At least you were until I watched this travesty of a fight! You let that sissy beat you within an inch of your life! It’s a damn shame. Justin Bieber called. He wants you to put on a dress and do a duet with him.”
By the time Lucas got off the first volley, they were all laughing their asses off, including my cage crew.
Lucas wasn’t done, poking me in the chest. “It’s back in the bay for you, no wetsuit, and we’re going to hang pieces of raw meat around your neck! You need toughening!”
He was of course referring to my new training regimen of taking me out into the East Bay on our boat The Lora, and making me stroke alongside in the icy water while beating me nearly senseless with poles. Tommy had invented it. I hated it with a passion, but it was probably the only way I survived tonight’s Rattler showdown.
Lynn patted my arm. “I nearly made Clint do me right in our seats when you broke that sucker’s jaw, DL. Oh my… that was lovely.”
Clint put his arm around Lynn. “After that fight, I won’t let them torture you anymore, brother. I’ll probably have to buy the blu-ray of the fight for special romantic nights with Lynn though.”
Oh man, I started laughing so hard my face hurt on that one.
“We heard what that idiot said to you in the interview,” Casey said. “Want me to go get closure for you. I’ll show him what no remorse really looks like.”
“Thanks Case, but Jess trampled him on the way out. I’m good. Let me get a shower, and give the Doc a chance to latch and patch me so we can go get some medicinal pain killer.”
“We have news about our other show date too, John,” Denny said. “I can’t think of a better place to talk it over than up at the top with some medicine. That was one son-of-a-bitch of a brawl, Dark Lord. I told the ladies they could see you after the patch job. Al was insistent.”
“See you in a few. Tell the Doc outside it’ll take me about half an hour to wash the blood off. I’m glad I thought to bring my good clothes down. I’m mighty thirsty, my friends.”
“I have a matching mask if you wear black tonight, Elephant Man,” Tommy called out as I headed for the shower, stopping me in my tracks. I grinned and kept going, soaking in the laughs.
In the shower, with the hot water pounding down on me, I visited with pain central, trying to determine what parts were working better than others. After soaping up and shampooing my lacerated scalp carefully, I kept my head underwater until I was free of suds. The shower curtain pulled back and my glance in surprise through swelled eyes revealed Lora, nude in all ways, including her glorious nether regions.
“Oh my.”
“Hey, big boy… did you want to play ring toss or are you just glad to see me?”
The pain slipped away from me in a different kind of red haze, and by the time we left the shower, she knew I wasn’t playin’.
Lora stayed with me. We dressed together, but I only put on a strapped tee shirt so whatever fixing I needed wouldn’t end up on my clean shirt. Once Lora was decent, I opened the door for my entourage and the Doc. Al rushed in, jumping up in my arms. I hugged the little bugger back. God, her and Lora always managed to make my life worth every damn second. It lasted many moments, before I eased her down. The tears still wet on her face as she tried to inspect my mug with mock outrage, caused a slight tremble to her voice of admonition.
“You scared me, Dad!”
“You can’t get scared if you stay in the room with your Mom, honey. I appreciated your visit though.”
Al brushed a hand over my monster mask. “Are…are you really okay?”
“Yep. I need some patching, but I’ll be fine. Go get a nap, and I’ll get us popcorn and sodas later. We’ll watch a movie together.”
“Okay… but no Rocky movies or any of that other crap you watch.”
“Why you little… maybe there’s a Beeper special on. This would be a terrific time to watch the great Beeper. My ears are ringin’ anyway, so I won’t hear the cat claws across the blackboard voice of the great Beeper.”
Al giggled. “You must be all right. You pulled the Justin card superfast. Don’t stay out with the Wild Bunch too long tonight, Dad.”
“Wild Bunch? What the hell, Al?” Lynn pretended outrage at being lumped in with the very aptly named group. “You’ve junked me in with the boy’s club.”
“I think of you more as their leader.”
“Oh good… that’s okay then. It actually sounds better than our other nicknames. Hey, Doc, do you really think you can patch this walking corpse up so he can be seen in public?”
The Mandalay Bay Physician assigned to me, Jonas Bostig, peered at my face from where I sat for the examination with Al and Lora next to me. He had patched me up after my last Mandalay Bay fight. Bostig is an avid UFC fight fan, about six feet tall, slender, very dark, and spoke with a slight accent, having grown up in Nigeria. The Doc was also on the CIA payroll, a long time informant for Denny Strobert. He passed unnoticed in the darkest circles of Las Vegas without challenge. Jonas knew us.
“Although I am a very talented doctor, Ms. Montoya, I am afraid we will have to put him down. It is the only humane thing to do.”
You can only imagine the pleasure taken by my cohorts in that pronouncement. Lora put her arm around me as the Doc began cleaning my scalp wound.
“He seemed very okay to me.”
“Thanks, Hon.”
“You stay out of this ‘Mistress of the Dark’,” Lynn ordered. “You do know that necrophilia is a sin, right?”
The Doc even had to halt his ministrations after that remark.
“It’s good you all are having a wonderful time, but is there any chance you’d shut the hell up until the Doc gets through rearranging my face?”
My appeal met with mixed reactions, but Jonas went back to work in short order. By the time he finished, the three heavy duty aspirin I’d taken were beginning to kick in. No way was I going to take anything stronger and miss out on my date with the fabulous Bud and Beam brothers. The Doc stepped back away from me to survey his work. He simply smiled.
“Oh boy. I am not ordering you of course, but it would not be a bad idea to check in at the local hospital overnight. If you won’t do that, then heed this advice: no drinking.”
I stood up during the raucous aftermath of his very good advice, shaking the Doc’s hand. “I listen to everything you advise, Doc. Don’t worry about a thing. My friends will look after me.”
Jonas shrugged. He knew I had no intention of following it. “I used my hitch and stitch strips on everything as you’ve requested before. Apply peroxide every day, followed by a slight coating of antibiotic cream. Take an ice pack up with you to the bar, cement head. See you next time.”
Denny walked him out. As the so called Spawn of Satan, it was his job to finalize any information before a briefing. I hugged Al and Lora. “I will be with you shortly.”
“Take it easy tonight, DL,” Lora cautioned. “I don’t want that necrophilia dig to become reality.”
“Too late,” Lynn of course popped off.
Samira, who had been staying in the background with Jafar walked up then, taking my hand. Once, long ago I guarded an Afghan cave with some of my compatriots when Samira was a little girl with her family. Jafar is our young genius in training who works as our team’s tech guy. He’s married to Samira, although both are still not yet twenty. “I will go with Lora and Al. Perhaps we will all have some dinner, and Jafar can join us for a movie night later. I am glad you’re okay, John.”
“Yes, but I will need two glasses of wine if I am to look at your face later after a meal,” Samira replied with comical deliberation.
I slipped on my shirt while being held up for ridicule once again by an unlikely participant. Then it was finally time to leave the locker room. I think my friends were in a much better mood. I know I was. I could almost taste my drink of choice. Outside the locker room, we managed to make our getaway, relatively unnoticed. Our anonymity didn’t last long, as two official looking suits stopped us. They had Mandalay Bay and UFC credential nametags. The tall lanky one in the lead had Carrington on his badge. His stocky companion’s read Nielson.
“Mr. Harding? I have a complaint filed officially by representatives of The Rattler, Eugene Comings. We must place you on suspension for your strike after the last round ended, causing serious injury to Mr. Comings. Here is the-”
Before any of us could react, including her mate, Lynn was up in Carrington’s grill. By the look on his face, I assumed Lynn was featuring her scary face, which has been known to still the hearts of the weak minded. Clint arrived at her side only a split second slower, ready to prevent mayhem from his less thoughtful wife.
“Oh, I know you did not just say a bunch of you suits in UFC are moronic enough to put John Harding on suspension! Are you nuts! That was one of the greatest UFC fights ever! The punch happened a split second after the end. Big hairy deal! Eugene won, and you don’t see John crying about being hosed. You bunch need to switch from dresses to pantsuits and step the hell up!”
“We… we have to investigate this matter.” Carrington was retreating with his hands gesturing for understanding.
His buddy Nielson started to bluster, but Devon moved over to block him off from saying something that could get him killed. “My associate is merely expressing our outrage at this decision to allow an opponent’s team to write their own rules. Rattler didn’t know the round ended either.”
“Dev’s right,” I chirped in, as I accepted the paper from Carrington. “We understand your position. I’m sure once you get a chance to talk with Rattler, he’ll tell you we couldn’t hear the end. It was an unfortunate timing issue. I’m not challenging the decision as Ms. Montoya has pointed out. I hope you can clear this up. It will be a while before I can fight again anyway.”
Nielson poked a finger around Devon at me. “If it were up to me, I’d ban you for life, Harding! UFC isn’t a snuff film! You’ve already killed two men officially in the cage.”
Clint picked the erupting Mount Montoya volcano up and off to the side. I only wanted to get by these two. “I understand your stance on this. I don’t agree with the suspension, but what’s done is done. I’ll fight the suspension legally. There’s no use in making anymore statements in public before investigators talk with the Rattler. What you think means nothing to me Nielson. It’s obvious you’re fronting for someone else. Get the hell out of our way now. Your partner Carrington here knows you’re way out in left field shooting your mouth off like this. Wise up, and take a step back.”
Nielson glanced at Carrington, and got a negative head shake in return. It’s good someone here had their survival instinct intact. Tommy had already taken the form from me, read it, and waved it with disdain in front of Carrington and Nielson.
“You’re nuts if you think you can make this stick. There will be obvious video evidence in HD stop motion that the strike was impossible to pull back. I’m surprised they sent you two out here like this to confront us in public.”
Applause broke out around us as our small scene drew an increasing number of fans. Catcalls followed. The officials took notice. Carrington backed away, pulling Nielson with him. “You’re right, Mr. Sands. I should have chosen a different venue to alert Mr. Harding to our ongoing investigation. Thank you for your cooperation.”
We watched them hurry away with mixed feelings I’m sure. I looked around. “Now… I’m even thirstier. I take point from here on. Anyone getting between me and the Bud and Beam brothers will be dealt with in less polite terms. Follow me.”
Lynn broke away from Clint, who sighed and followed her to where she jogged in front of me. “I got this DL.”
I grinned. “You have point, Lynn.”
Our entourage arrived unimpeded at the Mix Lounge atop the Mandalay Bay. There was only one slight interaction when what looked like a reporter tried to approach my phalanx. Lynn did a few butterfly knife tricks as he approached, including a throw up in the air, catch, and slight of hand close and open. The reporter decided freedom of the press did indeed hinge on the Second Amendment.
Chapter Two
New Mission
Denny had fixed it with our hosts at the Mandalay Bay. We had window seats for all of us over a couple of tables at The Mix. The view, lights, and darkness seeped from the scene into my soul. It’s always the small things that make up the absolute best pleasure filled moments in our lives. I’m a hound dog for such moments. I absorbed the atmosphere as if it were ice water in the middle of the Sahara desert. It took me a few moments before I bothered to sit down. Lynn gripped my arm as my compatriots waited.
“Hell of a night, DL. Little Al added something for me I won’t ever forget. When she crashed the cage I nearly started bawling like a two year old. I plan to make my kid proud enough of me to get my own scene like that.”
“What she said, brother,” Clint added.
“Damn… you two are going to make me start bawling in a minute. We’re all family back in the Bay. We know the price of admission in this deadly game we play. It’s the hard times that make moments Al illustrated so special. It does help that the Rattler didn’t kill me though, and spoil it.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Dev said. “Let’s have a toast to the greatest five rounds of violence I’ve ever seen.”
It took only moments for all of us to have what we wanted in hand. We did indeed toast. All of us knew to take nothing for granted. This crew ran on day to day, moment to moment, hardnosed reality. We didn’t whine, cry, or hope for outcomes we couldn’t control. We made a difference, and we didn’t play it down like anyone could do it. When we finished a few heartfelt and incredibly nourishing toasts, we sat down to enjoy the view. Of course we had a mission to conduct within the next day or two. Reality’s a bitch, but it goes down well with a Bud and Beam.
Spawn started us out after an all too short feel good moment. “Victoria Lydia Voltaire. She’s built a powerful drug operation running outward from Las Vegas in sync with a Mexican drug cartel. We normally shit can this type stuff to the DEA or some other locals. Ms. Voltaire has hooked up with a Middle Eastern faction of the Muslim Brotherhood that cannot be allowed. We’re unofficially directed to end it before she peppers sleeper cells into her network. I know Jafar has you all up to speed, but I’m looking for out of the box derailment of Voltaire’s network.”
Yeah, we rehearsed it, but we all waved our hands up in school day fashion. Denny scowled at our display.
“I might have known you bunch would grasp the ultimate goal without giving me any input as to the long view.”
“Maybe you should be more specific as to your wants, Spawn,” Lynn interjected with attitude. “Putting out vague guidelines will get you vague responses.”
“Until you throw out a few more cards on the table, I’m backing Cruella Deville,” Lucas said right away, eliciting a growl from Cruella/Lynn. “Sometimes you have to hit the nail with a hammer. If this Voltaire wants to party with terrorist networks, we can introduce her to Cruella on a boat ride in the Bay. I’m absolutely sold on that information extraction and disposal method. No muss, no fuss, and no bodies.”
As Denny Light, my job was to ease my crew into a more formidable and clandestine mission with Denny’s long view in mind. I didn’t like it much, but I h
ad begun getting more acclimated to the long view. It had worked very well for us. We had our own air force and small navy now, backed by Denny’s recently acquired girlfriend, Maria Brannigan, heir to the Brannigan empire. It was complicated, but I think Denny was in love, and Maria had already committed to him, according to her unusual best friend, Lynn.
“Denny didn’t bring us here together for laughs,” I said. “He knows something. I’m with you Lucas, but let’s hear him out first.”
“You’re so cute, sucking up the way you do,” Lucas replied. “Okay… Denny Light is right. Let’s hear it, Spawn.”
“She’s running a halfway house at this time right on her estate for terrorists streaming up through Mexico on her version of an underground railroad. We will stop her. Doc confirmed it. He was called there to treat a couple of them for standard health issues. He has an excellent reputation for keeping his mouth shut, backed up by decades doing mobster work. Jonas must be protected through this at all times. I can’t replace a valued asset like him if his cover is blown. Jonas claims she has at least twenty on her estate right now. That’s why this UFC match has turned into a first class cover. I wish it had an upside for you on the UFC side, John, but that was one gutsy set to in the cage tonight.”
I slurped down my beer, and motioned for a Bud and Beam replacement, along with refills for the others. “Thanks. That was a bad one tonight folks. Tommy can tell you I don’t say something like that lightly. The Rattler is the real deal. He lost concentration for a moment at the end.”
We all stayed quiet as the waitress served us. I held up my Beam brother.
Hard Case IV: A Violent Life (John Harding Series Book 4) Page 2