Hooked (The Submission Fighter Book 1) (5 page)

Micah was unfocused, dazed, and hurt. More than anything, he wanted it to be over. He needed nothing more than relief, and there was only one way this was going to end with him the true winner. And that is when he decided to go all out. He delivered a swift, sweeping kick that landed Jack on his knees in almost their first move of the second round.

A round of body punches flew from his hands, as if he had lost control. Jack’s body, the one that had so viciously defeated him in the first round, had seemed to actually coil away from Micah in fear. Micah took it as a sign. He could win. The taste and sensation of blood filled his mouth, as his body swelled with the adrenaline of the fight.

He managed to lock an arm around Jack’s neck, as he leaned forward into his body. Micah’s leg tangled around Jack’s, as he mounted low. He could feel Jack struggle and even let out a small cry. But Micah refused to let up. Instead, he pushed harder into the ground, using his hips and free arm to further lock the other in place.

The ref ran over to the men, watching Jack carefully. And without much fanfare, Micah watched as Jack Caller, the fighter everyone had come to watch and bet upon, used his last bit of energy to timidly tap the mat. The ref stood quickly, taking Micah with him. And with arms raised, Micah had won by a knockout.

Lights from cameras and phones flashed wildly, as the announcer stammered over his proclamations of Micah as the winner. Caroline turned toward Alice and muttered, “I can
not
believe he just did that. I’m guessin’ we’ll be gettin’ that autograph tonight.”

Alice hadn’t heard a word of what her friend had just said. Instead, her eyes were locked on Micah. From his cheek, blood from the first round beating trickled down slowly, and his body leaned forward in obvious pain. But despite the scene, his crooked lips peeled back into a menacing, dancing smile. With that, Alice knew it was over.

Micah sped out of the octagon as soon as the last picture was taken and congratulatory handshakes were made. A small crew of onlookers, coaches, and trainers attempted to keep up with the man, but he was on fire. His heart pounded in his chest with the sound of the stunned crowd. His body felt electric, as he replayed over the win moment for moment.

But what he needed now, he wasn’t going to find in the company of these vultures—the handlers and sponsors. The further he could distance himself from it all, the better the chances were of him getting what he really needed.

As soon as he hit the bench, Dean barged into the room, “MICAH! You fucking brilliant fighting machine. Where did that come from? Jesus, man. I don’t even know what to say except that you’re going to be a rich man come tomorrow. There’s a line of sponsors and agents outside that door calling your name.”

“I’m not interested in them right now.” Micah grabbed a couple of the white gym towels placed out for him by the staff. He brushed the sweat off of his body and put on his long training shorts over his boxing trunks. He slid into his sandals and sat on the bench.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not interested? You can’t just turn these people down!”

“I’m not turning them down. I’m not an idiot, but not tonight. Give them my number and tell them I’ll call them tomorrow.” He gestured to the deep gash in his face still fresh with oozing blood. He knew that playing the injury card would be the only answer to get his coach off of his back.

Dean attempted to start again, but a death glare by Micah caught him mid-sound, as he turned and headed out the door. Micah could hear him loudly shout at the group assembled that his fighter wouldn’t be able to meet tonight, but he would take all offers in the next hallway. The sounds of voices and footsteps died down as they dispersed to wherever his coach was leading them.

Micah poked his head out of the door, catching the attention of the security staff hired to man the locker rooms. “Hey, do me a favor, bro. Can you call the medic for me? Also, if a woman comes by named Alice, let her in. I don’t want any other visitors though, okay?” The burly security man nodded his head in understanding, as he went across the hall to the medic’s office for some help. 

Micah slipped back into the locker room, ducking into the bathroom to wash off the rest of the blood from his neck and chest. The door behind him opened, as he continued to remove the grime. “Hey Martha. I think I’m going to need stitches or something. But can we just stick to a bandage. I’ll get it taken care of tomorrow.”

“You should probably get that taken care of tonight.” The voice was unfamiliar, yet somehow ingrained in his memory. It was melodic, almost teasing. It certainly didn’t belong to the medic. Micah spun around, as he held the blood soaked towel to his cheek. Standing in the doorway was Alice. Dressed in red from almost head to toe, she looked like a glowing ember of a still lit fire. “I didn’t know you were hurt. I could come back or meet you later. I just wanted to get your autograph before you forgot,” she said.

She turned backwards towards the door, but Micah was faster. He jumped over the bench and ran barefoot towards her, blocking the door with his body.

“I certainly didn’t forget,” he responded. Alice stepped backwards, wary of how imposing he was now that she could see him in better light. Specks of fresh blood still lined his chest and new welts and bruises mingled with his black tribal tattoos. She wanted nothing more than to reach out her hands and trace the marks with her fingertips.

“How bad is the gash on your face?” she asked.

He removed the towel for her to study. She swallowed hard as images of her own battered face and body haunted her memories. Bravely, she stepped even closer, reaching out a hand to turn his jaw towards her. Her green eyes softened a bit, as she caught him wincing at her touch, as if he was equally afraid of what she may do to him.

Alice blinked quickly and recovered. “You are going to need stitches. Where is the medic or your coach? Shouldn’t they be here attending to you?” she said. She turned her back towards him as he followed her light sway with his gaze. She placed herself down on the wooden bench as he joined by her side.

“Medic is on her way. Coach, well, I kicked him out. I’m not in the mood for visitors,” he said. She felt a bit hurt and motioned to stand. He grabbed her arm once again, pulling her back towards him with his powerful grip. “I wouldn’t call you a visitor. I made a promise to you.”

She smiled nervously, as she pulled out her ticket from her pocketbook and handed it to him. “Then, I’ll take your autograph and be out of your—” The door of the locker room spun open as the two turned to face the noise of shouting and yells.

“What the hell, Micah! We need to talk. You can’t just kick me out of my own fighter’s locker room.” Dean was furious, his square face blushing and bulging with the rush of blood.       

“Can you please move? I need to see him.” Martha, the medic from before was just a few paces behind Dean, carrying a medical kit, gloves, and an attitude. She pushed past Dean and headed straight towards Micah on the bench. Neither of the two seemed to notice the woman sitting on the bench.

Dean continued to yell at Micah, scolding him for sticking security on him. Martha interjected a couple of times to remind him about wound care and his need to get stitches as soon as he was able. The noise and commotion bubbled to a fever pitch as more trainers and match officials slipped into the room, surrounding Micah and pushing Alice further and further away.

Alice stood up, quietly walking towards the exit, her heels giving her away. With that, something snapped within the fighter. Pushing his hands out from within the center of the group, he stood. “GET OUT.” His voice was low and terse, as he focused his glare onto his coach. When the group continued to move towards him, he repeated it again, this time in a fierce, meaningful roar that sent shivers down Alice’s spine and kept her in her place, as the rest of the crowd dispersed outwards and into the hallways.

Alice broke the silence, as Micah stared at her. “That happen a lot?”

“No. Only when I win.” He was honest. Normally, a loss would mean a quick trip to the locker room and a race to the bus to clear his head. This time, all he wanted was to share those precious seconds of solitude with Alice.

“You probably shouldn’t win then, at least not like that.” She winked and smiled, as he motioned for her to return back to the bench. She sat closer to him this time, as he caught a long look at her pearl white, untarnished legs. The naked skin popped against the bright red of her dress.

In the distance, a buzzer sounded and a scream from the crowd went up. Both listened to the announcer proclaim a winner in the third fight.

“Do you want to go back out there? I’m sure the guy you came with is looking for you.”

She snorted a quick laugh. “If he’s looking for me, I’d rather be in here. I didn’t come with him. He was forced on me.”

“Really?” He lifted his eyebrow curiously. “I wouldn’t think anyone could force themselves on someone like you.” She blushed a bit at the implication. He was both so right and so wrong.

“My friend Caroline is probably worried about me though.” She nervously glanced down at her phone, unsure of what to say. It was blank, and she knew it. Caroline was covering for her as Alice pretended to slip out to the concession stands. The boys hadn’t given her a second glance as she left, but she was sure that they would start to wonder where she could have gone the entire duration of the last matchup.

“Tell her that you’re with me. I can get you home safe.” His wicked smile had reappeared, taunting her into submission.

“Is that a threat or a promise? It’s hard to tell with you.” There was some truth in Alice’s words. While she’d put aside all of her qualms and reservations to meet up with the fighter in his abandoned locker room, she wasn’t sure if she could fully trust him outside the arena.

“It could be both. But I’d rather it be a promise. Come out with me tonight. I did just get paid, you know.” He laughed at his own joke in an innocent, childlike way.

“Where would you take me with a cut like that?” She pointed out the obvious impediment to their night, the large bandage on the side of his face.

“I’ll get it fixed tomorrow. Tonight, I want to go out and celebrate. And I want it to be with you.” Micah studied Alice’s serious face, hoping it would change and she would give in. He was sincere in that there was nothing he would rather do than to spend the rest of the evening with her. She wasn’t budging, so he tried a new approach, “Steak dinner? Drinks out at the casino? Dinner and a movie? Come on, tell me what you want to do with me, and we will do it.”

That was a loaded question Alice wasn’t prepared to answer honestly. But his perseverance was endearing. “Fine,” she whispered, as she looked down at her hands once again. “You can take me out for dinner and a drink.” Strands of her blonde hair fell onto her face. She glanced up at him between the fallen locks, and their eyes connected once again, as they had back at the fight. This time, it wasn’t anger, fear, or desire that clouded Micah’s mind. Instead, the tiny flakes of golden brown danced, as he became elated.

Alice excused herself to go find the rest of her group. She wasn’t sure what lies she was about to tell to get out of going home with Pete, but she had a feeling Caroline would have a plan.

Weaving through the departing fans, she spotted Pete’s red hair among the rest. He turned upon seeing her. “Where were you? I was fucking worried.” He didn’t appear to have sent out a search party. Instead, he just looked irritated and mildly suspicious. Alice found herself more and more disgusted.

“I ran into an old friend.” She stumbled over an excuse, realizing it may be her ticket out. “They invited me out for dinner, and since I haven’t seen them in years, I am just letting you know that I am going. It would be rude of me not to take them up on the offer.” Lies, lies, lies. And even worse, Pete could tell.

“Really? An old friend? Here at an MMA fight?” She nodded her head slowly, looking around for Caroline or Jace… anyone who could break up what was about to happen. “You know, whatever. Go do your thing. I’m not sure why I wasted my time with trash tonight anyways.” He hauled off in the direction of the parking lot in a huff, smashing the glass door open.

She took a breath. That was the hard part. Getting Caroline on board should be a breeze. She pulled out her phone and messaged her roommate her location only to be found by her and Jace moments later. Alice pulled Caroline to the side, out of earshot of Jace, and explained Micah’s offer.

“You’re fucking kidding me. I KNEW IT.” Caroline lost her grip, as she shouted at Alice in disbelief. “I’m not going to stop you, but are you sure it’s okay? Can you at least text me if you’re not going to be back home by midnight?” Alice was touched by Caroline’s somewhat hypocritical concern. She promised to fill her in on the details and inform her of any juicy developments. The two parted with a hug, as Caroline led Jace out of the arena in search of a still-steaming Pete. 

Despite knowing that it hadn’t been a dream, she still raced back to the locker room, hoping Micah hadn’t suddenly changed his mind or found someone more his type. But when she returned, he was still there, pacing the floor while on his phone talking to someone about his win. She took his distraction as an opportunity to take him in once more. In her absence, he had put a t-shirt on, the first time she had seen him with his chest covered, and he had also switched from his shorts to a pair of dark jeans. He practically looked normal to her apart from the gashes and the tattoos that lined his still visible skin and face.

“Nah, I’ll see you later... I’ll try to stop by tomorrow, okay? … Yeah. I promise... Okay… You too... Bye.” He hung up, stuffing the phone in his back pocket, and took a long look at Alice standing by the exit.

“Am I keeping you from someone?” She had grown a bit wary after hearing how affectionate his voice had sounded on the phone.

“Not at all.” He couldn’t look away from her. It was as if she would vanish in a flash if he did. She was mouthwatering, the way she rested her hands on the deep curve of her hip. The color of her skin reminded him of snow, and he was ready to dive in.

However, Alice was less distracted. She had figured he wasn’t exactly in the crowd to be honest, chaste, or faithful. But hearing him talk made her jump back to her senses. This was not what she had wanted. He watched her, as she looked away sullenly towards the floor.