Beautifully Dangerous

by Chelsea Kendall

  “Can I ask you something Max?

  “Don’t know if I got the answers, but fire away.”

  “I have been noticing something about Archer that I find...strange. Archer is adored by his fans, especially women, but he doesn’t seem to be liked by his peers.”

  “That surprises you?”

  “Sure. People are forever shooting mean glances Archer’s way and scowling, but I don’t see other competitors doing the same things to each other. At first, I thought it was because he’s nearly the top ranked fighter and that breeds jealousy, but it’s not that at all. The Ramirez brothers don’t get the same nasty stares, and they’re number one and two. In fact, Archer seems to be the only own who doesn’t like them at all.”

  “Hmm...I think you may be making a mountain out of a mole hill, honey.”

  “No, when I first meet people they start out all friendly and all, but as soon as they find out which fighter I’m loyal to they can’t wait to make excuses to leave and talk to someone else. People don’t just dislike Archer, they can’t stand him. What could he have done to them that everybody else hasn’t tried to do?”

  “I just don’t see it girl, but that doesn’t mean you're wrong I suppose.”

  “I know I’m right. All you have to do is be observant and you’ll start to see it. But I’ll tell you what. I’m going to film those reactions over the next few days or so, then I’ll show you the footage so you can see for yourself. It’s weird. I don’t know what it means, but it means something.”

  “Okay Sherlock, you do what you want to do, but don’t forget the reason you’re here filming in the first place, all right?”

  “Of course. I know how to do my job, Max.”

  “Just don’t get sidetracked here. There’s a lot of gossip that flies around every tour and 99% of it is just horse shit. Don’t worry about what other people think.”

  “You may be right...” I grudgingly concede.

  As much as I don’t want to admit it, I kind of see his point and besides, we have a match to get ready for. Archer has an exhibition fight tonight that's being sponsored by a governor who used to be a WWE wrestler. No one is thrilled to be involved, but it pays well and it's great publicity.

  I walk back into the locker room and find Archer there preparing for the match. It feels different this time, like I’m here in the capacity of his girlfriend, not an employee.

  “It’s almost time, Bobby.” I say.

  He smiles. He likes it when I use his real name, something I can only do in private. His hands are taped to keep his knuckles from ripping his opponents flesh unnecessarily, and he has a fine layer of some kind of grease on his face so that strikes there will slip off instead of gripping the skin and tearing it.

  “No worries,” he says with his usual lack of verbiage.

  “I know you’re not worried, but I am. I don’t like seeing people hurt you, I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing you fight.”

  “Doesn’t hurt.”

  “Yeah right, I’ve got yards of footage of you grimacing as the doctor puts you back together again after a particularly brutal fight.”

  “Not this one.”

  “What, you think he can’t be brutal ‘cause he’s too young to have that attitude?”

  He nods.

  “Well I hope your right.”

  He nods again.

  “Dammit Archer, can’t you do more than just nod or say three words?”

  He nods, then says, “Yes.”

  I’m just about to get angry when he flashes me a smile and chuckles to himself.

  I start laughing as well and am about to move in for a kiss when his name is called. He jumps up. There’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. I’m glad that fire’s directed at The Kid, not me.

  “Knock ‘em dead Archer,” I say as he turns to leave.

  He nods, his face a mask of intense concentration and ferocity. It’s hard for me to look at him and not feel just a little bit afraid. I let him make his grand entrance before I make my way down the same hall and through the same fans and over to where Mad Max and Archer’s doctor are standing.

  Mad Max regards me for a second. “No camera?”

  “Nah, I just wanted to enjoy the fight without working for a change. Since this fight’s not important, I figured it would be chance to relax.”

  “Don’t know about that. Look around you.”

  I do, and right away I notice what he’s talking about. The other fighters, who are usually far from ringside if they’re not fighting, are surrounding the ring and flying their colors. It also appears that each fighter has brought his entourage of security personnel, as if they think the night’s potential for violence is far above my expectations. This does not bode well for the increasingly unpopular Archer.

  I forget about the other fighters as the bout gets underway. After just a couple minutes, it’s clear to me that this is an uneven matchup. Archer has The Kid beat in every department. He’s taller, more muscular, faster, far more intense, and way more cunning. Not only is it obvious who is going to win the bout, it’s clear who the other fighters favor, and it isn’t Archer. Seems to me, the others have taken The Kid under their wings and are teaching him the ropes. Was it just plain bad luck that Archer was chosen to be his opponent?

  I make mention of it to Mad Max. ”I don’t know about that. But I do know we’re gonna feel like the Israelites being chased by the Egyptians across the desert if Archer wins, and I don’t think there’s gonna be any sea nearby that’s gonna part for our escape,” he indicates the crowd of angry fighters.

  “Would they really hurt one of their own?” I ask. “I thought they were supposed to be a tight knit community and all.”

  “They are a tight knit community, and right now they’re tightly knit against Archer.”

  “When the bell rings someone’s got to tell him he should lose in the next round.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think The Kid’s gonna last that long. We have to throw in the towel now.”

  A huge collective groan makes its way through the crowd. I look up, and The Kid is lying on his face. Archer is straddling him, about to deliver a knockout punch.

  I wave at him and scream, “No Archer, No!”

  He doesn’t hear me of course and delivers three punches in succession before the ref drags Archer away from his downed opponent. I look at the ringside clock, 43 seconds are left. Archer has just won by a knock out in the first round!

  Suddenly the ref is in our corner. “You’d better make yourself scarce until this blows over,” he shouts above the din.

  A group of fighters has rallied around The Kid. They’ve propped him up and are actually declaring him winner by default, claiming that Archer had somehow cheated.

  Mad Max climbs into the ring, grabs a confused Archer, and shoves him through the ropes where falls at my feet in a heap. An angry outburst forms on his lips as he looks around. When he realizes the trouble, he becomes a man of action. He immediately barrels ahead towards the locker rooms, bowling over people in his wake. Not every fighter he encounters in his way is all that committed to the protest, but Archer is totally committed to keeping me safe. Just when it looks like we’re going to break free, someone grabs me by my hair and drags me off to the side. Archer doesn’t even see, and Mad Max is easily thrown to the ground. By the time he can get up, the crowd has already swallowed me whole.

  I’m being dragged by my hair, and it hurts like hell. Pain shoots down my neck, I have no idea where I’m being taken. I can only see a massive sea of bodies around me. I’m terrified. This might be the end of me. This crowd wants blood, and they’ll not stop at anything less, I’m sure. There seems to be a group that is responsible for me. They’re all dressed in black and have ski masks on to hide their identities.

  There’s a commotion off to my left. I try to twist around to see what it is. There’s a loud pop, pop, pop, followed by pandemonium. People are running in every direction and it’s a wonder I d
on’t get trampled to death. At first, my kidnappers are successful keeping the crowd away from me. But suddenly, several of them rush off, and I can hear them fighting furiously. They better win, ‘cause if they don’t, I’m as good as dead. Suddenly, the guy tasked with guarding me lets go of my hair. I feel my head go crack on the hard cement floor and my vision starts going black. I struggle to stay conscious, but I just can’t do it. As the sounds of fighting fade away, I wonder if I will wake up from this nightmare.

  Chapter 12

  Evidence

  My head is throbbing, but that’s a start. It means I’m alive, and that’s a lot more than I was expecting, considering how the fight ended up. I can just barely manage to wiggle my fingers.

  “She’s awake.”

  I whip my head around towards the voice way too fast and suffer the consequences. The pain in my head is so bad I nearly lose consciousness again.

  “About damn time too. I didn’t sign up to babysit Archer’s plaything.”

  “Relax Adrian, she’s coming around.”

  “Where am I?” I finally manage to croak.

  “Somewhere safe. Archer should have known better than to wipe the mat with that kid. Of course it was going to backfire on him.”

  “Where’s Archer?”

  “He’s probably getting his ass kicked outside the ring right about now,” he says with an ugly smile.

  “So why am I here? What are you going to do with me now?”

  “Nothing. Soon you’ll be free to go. You’re probably still feeling the effect of the valium we gave you.”

  “You drugged me?”

  “Relax, it’s just valium. You were in hysterics and we had to calm you down. We’ve sent for our doctor to come and check you out. I know you were dragged by your hair. How does your neck feel?”

  “Not so good, actually.”

  “And that’s why we want our doctor to check you out before we turn you lose. I wouldn’t want Archer to think we didn’t take good care of you.”

  “Thanks then...I think.” I am still feeling out of it. Really, what I’d like to do is just get away from these guys. I know they helped me, but they’re still the enemy.

  The door opens, and in walks a doctor. He approaches my side and smiles. He hangs a bag from a pole attached to the bed I’m currently occupying. I close my eyes and try to relax.

  “You’ll feel a little pinch Eva,” the doctor says in hushed tones. “I’m going to start an I.V. and give you some medication to help with the pain. I want to check out your neck and upper spine to make sure you didn’t sustain any injuries.”

  He goes through a short examination and pronounces me fine. Sore, but fine. One of the men walks over to the doctor. “That’s good for now doc. Why don’t you give us some privacy here and check back in a couple hours.”

  “Fine, but if she starts to get worse for some reason, call me immediately.”

  “Sure thing, doc.” The doctor leaves, and I turn to the man.

  “What’s your name?” I ask him.

  “Ricardo. This is my brother Adrian. We’re ranked—”

  “I know who you are. You’re ranked number one and number two on the tour. Archer’s talked about you guys.”

  “Careful what you say. We went to a lot of trouble retrieving you. It would have been far easier to just let the crowd have you.”

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  “We didn’t because we need your help exposing a certain someone that would bring dishonor to our sport. We believe you have some evidence in your possession that proves what we believe is going on around here.” That sick feeling is coming back to me. I can feel my stomach churning. I really don’t want to know who that “someone” is, but at the same time, I need to know. “I think you already know who we’re talking about,” Ricardo says.

  “Humor me.”

  “We need your evidence to expose the whole group. I believe you have evidence in a language you cannot understand, but we have a translator ready to help us.”

  “Who’s this group you speak of?” I ask, not sure I want the answer.

  “You’re not going to like this.”

  “I already don’t like this.”

  “You haven’t thought this through, Eva.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are some very powerful, intelligent, and determined people involved in the tour this year. They are fighters, doctors, managers, and other support staff. There is a group of doctors that we believe are pulling the strings around here, along with a couple prominent fighters. The top ones are alumni from Georgetown. Maybe you’ve seen their class ring before?”

  I don’t like where this is going at all.

  “There is another ring you may not know about. It is similar to the Georgetown Medical School ring, but it has a serpent intertwined throughout the ring. That viper has no place on a ring that symbolizes truth and the motto, ‘do no harm’.”

  I feel like I have just been stabbed in the heart. I can’t breathe, and suddenly I just want to get up off this bed and just charge out of there running until I can’t run anymore.

  Adrian is speaking now. “We know of the existence of three rings...four actually. Koenig’s doctor, Doctor Williams, has one. Doctor Collins, Archer’s old classmate and nemesis. Koenig has one. Although he’s not a Georgetown Alumni, he’s the main player in the group, and one other; probably the most important part of this little club.”

  My body is trembling uncontrollably. I am not prepared to hear what comes next. I just want to clamp my hands over my ears and just disappear. This just cannot be happening.

  “The other ring belongs to Archer.”

  An involuntary cry tears from my throat. It’s so loud even my own ears are ringing. I just cannot believe this. This is not Archer, not my Archer. He could not be involved in anything like this. I know him, and it cannot be true. A hand clamps over my mouth. I force myself to calm down, and as I do, the hand releases me.

  “It’s true, Eva. While Koenig is the force behind the whole scheme, it depends on Archer to drive in the big bucks. Sure, there are other fighters whose fights are fixed, but they don’t have the draw Archer has. His fights bring in millions of dollars every night he fights, especially when he loses. The higher up he goes in his standings and the closer we are to Vegas, the more money he’ll make from throwing a fight. Sunday, Archer is to go down in the fifth round, but he doesn’t have to lose. After the fifth he can do what he likes, providing he wins. Koenig has to win Saturday, and throw his second fight on Sunday, according to the chart he and the others devised.”

  I just cannot believe this. It’s just so against what Archer stands for. He is a man of honor. No way could Mad Max work for him if he wasn’t who he appears. And Andy, all that work he was doing for his brother, keeping tabs on the fights and the whole industry all in order to help his brother win. He didn’t even know the fights were fixed, making his job completely useless.

  Thinking of Andy makes me lose it again. But suddenly, I remember he left his computer to me. What is on that computer that is so important that he made sure it got to me? Did he know some fights were fixed? I wonder if he knew, or suspected his older brother was in on it.

  “How can you be sure?” I ask the brothers. “Just because of a secret ring? Do you have any hard evidence, or are you just guessing?”

  “We do. A hacker friend of ours was able to get into one of Archer’s bank accounts, and let me tell you, he’s a wealthy man. Every top fighter on the tour is doing well, but not this well. Let me show you.”

  Adrian cranks up my bed so I’m in a sitting position and he hands me about a dozen bank statements.

  “Let me explain,” says Adrian. “These are recent deposits into his account from a numbered account. Now look at the dates of the deposits. They all come one day after Archer loses a fight. Look at the deposit after he lost that fight last weekend. Six million dollars! He just made six million on a fight that would have paid him $50k to win.�
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  I’ve seen enough. Those bank statements, you can’t argue with that. It’s there plain as day. I roll over on my side, pulling a thin blanket over my head trying to just block everybody and everything out of my head. Trouble is, most of the noise is coming from inside my own mind. I know I should confront Archer after he fights tonight, but I just can’t do it. I know the moment he touches me, the moment he gives me that look, I’ll melt and my resolve will be gone just like that. I cannot support a fraud, and my Archer is a fraud. I have to leave. I don’t want to see these brothers either. They may be the only honorable fighters on the tour, but to me they’ll always be the guys who brought down Archer.

  Without really thinking about the possible consequences, I rip the IV out of my arm and sit back up. The sudden spray of blood across the room startles the two brothers. Their looks of shock and surprise are almost comical. With the bank statements still in my hands, I run for the door. The brothers look for a moment like they’re going to try to stop me, but they just look on as I throw the door open and storm out, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. I must really look crazy, judging by the looks I’m getting as I run down a long hall past people going about their business. Panic sets in as I realize I don’t know where I am. I mean, I’m in the hotel, but it’s a big place so I have to concede, I’m lost.

  I tear around a corner and plow headlong into a young bellhop. We both go down hard. He’s up first and holds out his hand to help me up. I wonder if he’d be so polite to the girl who ran him over if he saw the streak of my blood across his forehead. I don’t have the heart to tell him. He is also nice enough to show me to my room. I should tell him, but that would only bring up questions I’m not prepared to answer yet. Instead I follow him to my room, doing my best to hide the fact that my arm is still bleeding from where I’ve ripped out the I.V. It’s probably not gonna stop until I stop running.

  Almost there. As we arrive at my door, I discover another problem. I have neither my key card nor my purse. Time to turn on the charm. That is actually laughable. I caught sight of myself in a shiny surface on a room service cart and I look like hell. I am surprised the kid hasn’t turned me in. I guess they teach the staff here not to pry and to give their patrons privacy, no matter what. I have heard that all the better, more expensive hotels do that, but before today, I have never seen that put to practice. I only wish I had the money to tip the kid.