Hooked (The Submission Fighter Book 1)

by Sophia Hampton

  “MICAH!” He thought he could hear her voice shouting to him from across the crowd. “GET HIM MICAH!” He wanted desperately to look up, to meet her eyes, to jump out of the ring and grab ahold of her. But instead, he remained square to the task. He was going to win, at least this round, and her voice was going to be what got him there.

  The man under him struggled, twisting his body under his weight. He attempted to pin him further, but it was too much and quickly was Anders up, using the sides of the cage to climb forward. However, it was too late. The second round buzzer separated the men.

  Alice was cheering wildly in her seat. Something in her had fired up at the sight of Micah pummeling the man to the ground. It was primative and dirty, and she found herself soaking up every minute. Suddenly, she wasn’t ashamed of what she was watching. Instead, she found herself holding on so she wouldn’t jump forward into the ring to join the men. She wanted to be there, to be sweating and physical. She wanted to tear down someone with one shot like Micah’s kick to the chest.

  Even Caroline had changed her position. Defying a visibly upset Jace, she began clapping and hollering with Alice at the man in the tight black shorts. The two women caught Micah’s attention again, but the rush of blood and adrenaline blurred his vision and focus. He wanted more. He was going to get it.

  The third round started just as the first two. This time, neither men had anything to lose. It was an even playing field, and both Anders and Micah knew what they had to do. It was a chess game with Micah following the advice of Dean by focusing on punches and kicks. Old school combinations were typically boring and standard, but it seemed to stun Anders out of his place long enough for him to take advantage of the man.

  Anders, on the other hand, was focused on pinning Micah. He could tell that the weight difference was the one thing he had over the fighter. He looked for small opportunities to fall down upon him or to pin him against the wires. But Micah was quick, smart, and intuitive. He remained planted in the center, willing to take on crap shots from Anders.

  Jab, punch, kick. Jab, punch, kick. Anders flew backwards again, smashing into the wires so hard that the entire cage shook. Micah flipped him using his shoulder, crushing him down. Two, three, four punches to his face before Anders struggled out of his grasp yet again.

  Anders, this time, saw blood, moving Micah to the ground, twisting his body awkwardly. Micah attempted to use his legs to push himself off, but he found himself more under the weight of the man as if he was a human finger trap. Neither man relented, each tossing sloppy, tired blows at one another from this half-tackled position.

  The buzzer sounded for the last time as the crowd sucked the air from the steamy arena. Everyone seemed to be in a disagreement on what had just happened. Even Jace and Pete debated madly while Caroline and Alice held hands waiting for the decision from the judging table.

  Micah stood against the bars, his arms outstretched, struggling to find a breath in the rapid pace of his pumping heart. His body had taken a true beating, blood pooled from the corner of his mouth despite the guard, and his large torso showed the red welts from Anders’ hands.

  His coach got in his face, “What a fight! Micah, man! I knew you had it in you, but that was huge. Massive. Fuck it if you lose. What you did out there…” His rough, thickly-accented voice lost itself as the referee reentered the ring with a decision. Micah pushed his coach out of his way and walked center towards the announcer, the prize presenter, and the match organizers.

  The announcer grabbed both men’s wrists and waited till the crowd died down to make his announcement. “By a split decision, tonight’s Tiger Sports Arena MMA winner is…” The enthusiastic man lifted Anders arm high above his own. Cheers, chants, and hoots went up throughout the crowd, as chairs were quickly emptied.

  Micah hung his head, shaking in disbelief. He took the obligatory picture with the organizers and then exited the open side of the ring. He sped off towards the locker room, ignoring the occasional passer-bys who eagerly attempted to talk or pat him on the back. Losing was not what Micah did often, and when he lost, he wanted no part of it, especially from fake posers.

  Alice watched Micah leave the ring in a hurry, his coach trailing behind him comically as he shouted about the injustice and unfair judging. Seeing him defeated was as brutal as watching him fight. She found herself wanting to throw her arms around his neck, to bring his head to her chest, to wipe away the sweat and blood with her own body.

  “Hey Jace, where do the fighters go afterwards?” Alice was curious. She needed more.

  “Usually, out to the parking lot to get on their team buses or to drive home. Sometimes they stop and sign autographs. I know Anders always does.” That was all she needed to hear, as she grabbed Caroline’s hand and led her quickly to the door.

  “We’ll be back! Wait for us!” Caroline screamed at Jace, unsure of what was happening. Alice ran through the open doors where people streamed out. They searched for the side exits where the locker rooms would be. Alice spotted him. He was still shirtless, his shoulders hunched down, as he walked quickly to the back of the parking lot where a bus idled.

  “MICAH!” She couldn’t remember the last time she actually screamed someone’s name for attention. But it didn’t work. The man boarded the small, white bus, taking a seat in the back. Alice walked back to where Caroline waited.

  “Was that him?” Caroline asked.

  Alice nodded.

  “So, we’re getting his autograph right? Why don’t you just walk to the bus?” asked Caroline.

  “I’m not walking to the bus like a groupie, Caroline.” It was too late. Even in stilettos, Caroline was quick and light on her feet. By the time Alice could finish her sentence, she was already twenty paces ahead of her. From her purse, Caroline pulled out her ticket stub and a pen and continued to march forward.

  Caroline walked to the back of the bus and knocked on the exit door impatiently. Her hands were placed on her hips with clear attitude. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She was determined, and not even Alice could stop her at this point. When Micah refused to answer or acknowledge her, she knocked directly on his window.

  Alice could see his darkened figure storm out of the bus, obviously disturbed by the unrelenting woman.

  “Can I help you?” He was gruff and unenthusiastic.

  “Way to treat a fan…” Caroline was spitting mad, obviously turned off by a man who wasn’t giving her the kind of attention she was used to.

  Alice jumped to Caroline’s side, hoping she wouldn’t have to restrain her or put a sock in her mouth. “We just want your autograph, but obviously you cannot be bothered. Figures.”

  His attention diverted from Caroline to Alice who stood directly behind her friend. He eyed her suspiciously. It was the girl from the ring, the one he could have sworn called out his name.

  “Didn’t I beat you up already?” he asked, quickly attempting to change tactics.

  “Yeah, you did, so you owe me and my friend here at least an autograph.”

  “I don’t do autographs—or bullshit.”

  It was silent for a long second, as the three were unsure of where to go with this. But then, he let out a low, deep bellied laugh, the kind that rippled waves.

  “Alice, right?” He grinned, as she nodded stoically. “I’ll make you a deal. I’m not going to sign your tickets tonight. I’ll sign it when I win.”

  “So, I’ll be waiting forever?”

  Again, he laughed. The humor seemed to lighten him. The heavy weight of losing the fight fell off his shoulders, as he stood a bit taller. His eyes danced at the sight of the unruly woman practically challenging him. “No. I plan on winning my next round. I’ll be back at this arena next weekend. I’m fighting in the second match. If you come and I win, I’ll sign your ticket.”

  “Fine. Then, I guess I will see you next weekend.”

  “Fine by me,” he said flatly, turning to get back on the bus, not looking back at the women. But befor
e he could find his seat, Alice jumped to reach the bus windows. He rolled his down and looked at her curiously.

  “Micah, you better win.” She meant every word.

  Chapter 4: Distractions of the Worst Kind

  “Really guys, I’m exhausted,” Alice protested. “Can you just drop me off at home?” Jace and Pete desperately begged for Alice to give in and extend the night another hour or two. Their mentions of the dive bar down the road was the least of Alice’s wants. But what Caroline wants, Caroline gets, and she wanted more of Jace.

  Sitting on the red, vinyl barstools of some seedy hole-in-the-wall, Alice realized that this was going to be an even longer night than she previously thought. Her “date” was failing miserably at small talk, as Pete insisted on practically reliving each match blow for blow, forgetting that Alice herself was there next to him the whole time.

  Yet, each time he mentioned a detail about Micah or the way that the man had held his own despite everything, Alice’s heartrate spiked just a bit. Her mind wandered to the man in the ring. How she felt was unnatural and unprovoked. She wanted nothing to do with a man who spent his time beating the crap out of others for money. She especially had no interest in pursuing someone so headstrong. But, she wondered, Why then did I challenge him? Why did I promise to be there to watch his next match, to see him defeated once again?

  And instead of thinking through everything that had been said and done in the comfort of her own home, she was forced to endure hours of bland Pete. Jace and Caroline practically had abandoned the two, as they ground their bodies together on the empty dance floor for the entire bar to watch. There was no doubt—from the way that Caroline wrapped her arms weakly over his leather jacket—that Jace coming back to their apartment that night.

  She knew she had only a short time before Pete attempted to make his own moves. Alice wasn’t prepared for this pressure. It was the exact reason why she avoided dating at almost all costs. Her last boyfriend of almost a year was just as gun shy as she was. They had spent the duration of their relationship in a perpetual state of “will he” or “will she” without any conclusion. And she almost loved him for it.

  Now there was Pete. He was buying her drinks and shots. She was happy to take them, downing each glass as if the clear, fiery liquid would magically give her the right reason why Pete should not follow her back to her room that night. By the time Caroline and Jace were done with their show on the floor, Alice was properly drunk, and Pete was growing more and more confident that his score was going to be easier than he predicted.

  The four of them walked up the three flights of stairs to the girls’ apartment. Alice lingered in the back, hoping Pete would pick up her reluctance. Instead, he barreled forward, almost taking down a tipsy Caroline in the process.

  “Careful there, cowboy,” Caroline said with a teasing smile. “Don’t be so eager.” She winked at him, as Jace took her keys and unlocked the white door.

  The couple wordlessly retreated to Caroline’s room. The light flickered on and then off as giggles and moans suddenly rose. Alice, instead, remained firmly planted in her living room, staring at Pete, as he gestured towards her bedroom.

  “Oh, Pete,” she said, fumbling her words, “I… uh… listen, I’m... really, really sorry.” She stumbled forward, the drink hitting her balance. Pete caught her arm and led her to the couch. His body sat next to hers, leaning so close that she could clearly smell his peppermint gum breath. Again, she tried to refuse, “Pete… I’m… I—I just can’t do this.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said smoothly.

  She couldn’t believe he could be this oblivious. “Look, this…this isn’t gonna happen. I’m not interested. Do you…are we…are you okay with that?”

  He heaved an enormous sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said exasperatedly. “I’ve done nothing but try with you. Try and try and try. And you…“ He trailed off, insult and frustration building in his voice. It delighted her.

  “Look, I’m just… I’m gonna go to bed.” She attempted to stand, but he grabbed her arm and brought her back to the couch. “Pete, what are you doing?” He didn’t say a word. “Pete, let me go. I’ll scream. I swear to God I’ll scream.”

  He released her arm but not before squeezing so tightly she could clearly see his fingertips indent themselves in her flesh. As quick as she could, she stumbled towards the bedroom, locking her door behind her. Placing an ear to the wood, she attempted to listen in case Pete attempted to follow. At one point, she could hear him get up off the couch and walk towards her room in a quick march. But something stopped him, and he instead turned towards the front door, slamming it angrily behind him.

  The fear and the adrenaline of the night hit her soon after, and Alice began to weep. Her back was propped up against the door, and her body shook. Her hand held her other arm, rubbing the circulation back to the sore spots her date had left her. But most of all, she mourned that she wasn’t brave enough, brave like Micah, to fight back for once.

  ---

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Micah stopped dead, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat. He had been sparring with Brent for the last two hours with no real progress. And now, Dean was letting him have it.

  “Will you lay off of me? I’ll get it if you just shut your damn mouth and let me do my thing.” He placed his mouth guard back in his mouth and centered his stance, as his partner danced forward to him holding the mat guard. Again, he tried the combo. Left, right, knee, turn. Instead, he gave him right, knee, turn. And as soon as he missed the first beat, Dean was at it again. This time, he jumped into the practice boxing ring.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dean demanded. “This is fucking kiddie-pool bullshit. I train ten-year-old girls who could get this combo right the first time. Get your shit together.” He spat on the ground completely disgusted by his fighter’s lack of focus and motivation.

  Micah knew what was wrong: Alice. That blonde in green had been haunting his thoughts since he first placed his eyes on her. He had spent the last six days searching his memories for that moment when she took his power, leaving him a broken mess. He was used to girls; they were at every event, a dime a dozen. But with Alice, there was something there. There was something under that green dress he was dying to explore.

  He shook his head in irritation, as he refocused on the ring. He had twenty-four hours until the fight, and the chance to make enough money to last a full two months. Plus, it would allow him the chance to hit the big time. He slapped himself in the face once—twice—three times—and it was almost reassuring. I am not, he thought to himself, going to be some lovesick douchebag wallowing in despair. I’m gonna take down the next bastard in front of me, plain and simple. He put his head down and started to spar again.

  ---

  Going back to work the next day was hell. Her morning started off with a near naked Jace rummaging through their kitchen, as Alice suffered through her hangover. As the two women finally made it to work, Pete was already there, schedule in hand.

  “You’re working the morning and day shifts the next week.” He tossed Alice her time card. “Don’t be late.”

  “Jesus, Allie,” Caroline murmured to her. “What happened between you two last night? Must not’ve been good if he’s screwin’ you over with a bullshit schedule like that. How does he think you’re gonna make any money working weekdays anyhow?”

  Caroline studied Alice’s face waiting for her to explode or at least throw down a tantrum at this abrupt and unjust attempt to mess with her life. Instead, Alice smiled as she tucked the card into her apron pocket. “Nothing happened between us,” she said coolly, “which apparently is the point. So now, I get a break from him. It’ll be my vacation.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” Caroline asked. “Last night, you were just, I dunno know, not—not you. The way you talked to that Micah guy was just, y’know, off.”

  “He was just a guy,” Alice laughed, “and a dumb one at that. He
ran into me, and then he got smart. What was I supposed to do? Just take it?”

  “Psh. I woulda ‘just taken it’ from someone like him. He mighta lost that match, but he was all big and full of muscles. I mean, did you see that chest?” She nudged Alice in the chest teasingly. “While we’re on the subject, though, are you going back next week?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…” Alice answered her quickly. She knew Caroline would be on her about that as soon as she was over the stupor from Jace’s advances.

  “You should go. He clearly wants you there. He practically begged you to be there. And you weren’t much of a help with that whole ‘you better win’ crap. Even I wouldn’t have sunk that low flirting.”

  “You need to up your game then, girl.” With that, Alice went back to folding her napkins, and Caroline took over the counter tops once again.