Lethal Seduction (55 page)

By the end of the round, Bull Ali had opened a cut above Antonio's left eye, and blood was beginning to dribble down his face.

The crowd loved it.

•

“Your message light is blinking,” Joel pointed out.

“You
pour the champagne while
I
listen to my messages,” Jamie said, feeling deliciously light-headed. “Then we should do something about cleaning you up. Maybe you should buzz the valet and get them to fix your jacket.”

“I'll take care of it at my hotel.”

“Don't wanna take your clothes off, huh?” she teased, pointing her tongue at him in a provocative fashion.

Talk about a come-on. This babe was
panting
to climb Mount Everest, no doubt about
that.

Only drawback was he still felt like shit. The ache in his balls was not abating, and his stomach was continuing to cramp—which was all he needed. “Gotta use your bathroom,” he mumbled.

“Go ahead,” she said, picking up the phone and pressing the message button. “Jamie!” Peter's angry voice screamed in her ear. “What are you
thinking,
goddamnit! I know you wanted to be with Madison on her birthday. But to sneak off to Vegas without telling me is stupid and childish. I'd come get you, but you know I can't stand that city. You and I need to sit down and have a serious talk, because I refuse to put up with this spoiled, selfish behavior. Grow up, Jamie, it's about time you realized you're a married woman.”

She put down the phone incensed, his words ringing in her ears.
Stupid. Childish. Spoiled. Selfish.

How dare he!

Peter's harsh words were too much, considering what
he
was busy doing.

“Joel,” she yelled, jumping off the bed and stepping out of her dress. “Get in here. I'm ready to fuck your brains out!”

•

Round four belonged to Bull Ali, and Antonio was in trouble. The cut above his eye had deepened and split, and now the
blood was gushing like a geyser. Bull Ali dogged him around the ring, and Antonio was taking a lot of punishment.

Mrs. Bull Ali raised her expensive prayer beads to her lips and kissed them with a fervent murmur of thanks.

As far as she was concerned, it was all over.

•

“If one spot of blood splashes on my dress, I'm out of here,” Rosarita complained shrilly.

“Go,” Dexter responded.

She spun around to favor him with a malevolent glare.
“What
did you say?”

“Go. Get out. Do what you want.”

Well, obviously the poison was doing its stuff, because she'd never witnessed Dex act like this before. “Ex
cuse
me?” she said, still glaring.

The crowd roared as Bull Ali landed another punch above Antonio's damaged eye.

“I said get out, because that's what
I'm
doing.”

“Ha!” Rosarita jeered. “A touch late in the day for
you
to be making threats.”

Chas leaned across from his seat. “Will you two shut the fuck up,” he said gruffly. “I'm tryin' t'watch a slaughter here, an' who can concentrate wit' the two of you yammerin' away.”

•

“I can't watch this,” Madison said, covering her eyes. “It's totally barbaric.”

“No,” Mr. Mogul said. “It's two big hunks of masculine flesh hammering out their aggressions.”

“Get real,” Natalie said succinctly. “It's two greedy jerks beatin' the crap outta each other for big bucks.”

“Whatever it is,” Madison said, “I loathe it. The way this guy's pounding Antonio, he'll
have
no face left by the time they put a stop to it. And aren't they supposed to do that when it gets bad?”

“The promoters cater to the crowd, not the boxers' welfare,” Mr. Mogul said.

“Oh, really? Well, it's about time the rules were changed.”

“Try gettin' them to ban cigarettes first,” Natalie said. “It's all big business. Ouch!!” she exclaimed. “Did you see that?”

And as Antonio fell to the canvas, Madison suddenly felt desperately sorry for him.

•

Never one to turn down an out-and-out invitation, Joel emerged from the bathroom.

Miss Clean Sex herself had removed her dress and thrown herself down in the middle of the bed, clad only in a pristine white lace bra and bikini-cut panties. Not even a thong to get him in the mood.

Some guys would go ape shit over Jamie Nova—the classic blond beauty. But he simply couldn't get
that
excited.

He threw off his ripped jacket, pulled his black silk turtleneck over his head and dropped his pants. Surveying him from her position on the bed, Jamie noticed that he was extremely well endowed, or, as Natalie would say, “The dude is hung like an award-winning stallion on a good day!” Natalie-isms were quite memorable.

Jamie reached for the champagne and took a few gulps from the bottle to bolster her courage. This was a revenge fuck. Nothing more. Nothing less. But she might as well enjoy it.

Unfortunately, the only way she could do that was if she was ever so slightly drunk.

•

Round five. And Antonio was still taking a lot of punishment. Not only was Bull Ali pounding him with a series of vicious right jabs, but the blood from the cut above his eye was beginning to blur his vision.

Antonio tried counterpunching, hitting the taller boxer with a flurry of blows to the body.

Bull Ali wasn't having it. He'd knocked Antonio to the canvas once, and in this round he planned to do it permanently.

•

To his horror, Joel could not get a hard-on. This had never happened to him in his life. Oh sure, he'd heard about it happening to other guys—but to
him?
Never.

He was on top of what most guys would consider a very delectable piece, and goddamnit—he couldn't get it up.

Quickly he tried to summon a mental picture of Rosarita in one of her leopard-print thongs and a nippleless bra. She
always
got him horny.

Christ! He suddenly remembered his rendezvous with her, which he'd failed to keep. Rosarita would be madder than a crazy wildcat.

Of course, when she heard his story, perhaps she'd understand. Especially if he embellished, and he was good at that.

And if she didn't understand—screw her. There were plenty of Rosaritas in New York. Maybe it was time he found himself a
new
married woman.

Thinking about Rosarita did not solve his problem with Jamie. Jesus! The
reason
he couldn't get it up was because his balls were giving him hell, his stomach was a mass of shooting pains and he was sick. Those creepo paid bastards had made him fucking
sick!

“You okay?” Jamie asked, acutely aware that nothing was happening and naturally blaming herself.

“Huh?” he muttered, sprawled on top of her like a deadweight. “I . . . I don't feel so good.”

“Oh?” she said, wriggling out from under him. “Is it . . . something about me?”

“No, honey,” he assured her. “You're a babe. It's me, I feel like shit. I didn't tell you before, but those motherfuckers kicked me in the stomach, an' I think they've . . . Jesus Christ, I think they've done something bad to me.”

She knelt up on all fours, still clad in her underwear. “I'm
sorry,” she said sympathetically, before bursting into floods of tears.

Christ! This was all he needed—almost doubled over with pain, and a sobbing, half-naked woman on his case.

“What's your problem?” he managed to say. “I don't go for all this crying stuff.”

“I'm upset about Peter and what happened.” She sobbed mournfully. “All I wanted was to get my own back on him. I was planning on doing it with Kris Phoenix, but then his girlfriend walked in on us. Now you can't even get an erection. Is it something about
me?
Is that why Peter had to go off with a man?”

Joel's eyebrows shot up. “Peter is into guys?”

“Yes. Why do you think I'm
doing
this? Oh God,” she wailed. “I shouldn't be here,” and she jumped off the bed.

“You'd better call a doctor,” Joel groaned, clutching his stomach. “An' do it fast.”

“You feel
that
bad?” she asked, staring at him, upset because she was certain it was her fault that he was incapable of having sex.

“I promise—it's not you, babe,” he gasped. “It's those fuckin' guys . . . they kicked the shit outta me, an' . . . aw,
Jesus!”
He rolled over and closed his eyes.

“Joel?” Jamie said, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. What's going on?”

He groaned and brought his legs up to his chest. Then he let out a long, strangled cry, choked a little bit, and after that there was silence.

R
OUND
S
IX
. Bull Ali was the champion, and everyone knew it. Everyone, that is, except Antonio. Between rounds he'd huddled in his corner with his handlers while they'd lectured him on his next moves.

“Stop tellin' me what to do,” he'd said, spitting blood into a bucket. “I listened to you guys, an' it got me nowhere. I'm goin' back in there and doin' it
my
way.”

“Be cool, Tonio,” his manager warned. “That's all you can do. An' if he drops you again, stay there—before he does more damage.”

“Fuck you!” Antonio had mumbled. “I'm gonna be champ. Y'can bet your fuckin'
cojones
on it.”

Now he could barely see out of his left eye, but he knew if he could avoid any more punishment to the area, he had a chance. And the champ did have one big weakness. His arrogance.

Antonio got in a couple of quick body jabs. And then he went with his prize move—a solid left hook to the jaw that took Bull Ali by surprise and almost knocked him off his feet.

The crowd roared. The underdog was fighting back.

Bull Ali slammed into motion, but now Antonio was fired
with adrenaline and knew he had to seize the opportunity to win the battle.

Stay focused,
he told himself.
Ignore the pain. You, Antonio “The Panther” Lopez, are destined to be champion.

And from out of nowhere he turned into a ferocious dynamo, swift on his feet, skillfully avoiding Bull Ali's attempts to do further damage to the cut above his eye. He was finally living up to his reputation as The Panther. Sleek and fast, he was back in action.

As he circled his opponent, he knew for sure that there was no way he could win this fight on points. Too late for that. His only chance was to knock the champ out. Otherwise, he would definitely lose.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, he slammed two more solid left hooks straight at Bull Ali's jaw—one sledgehammer blow after the other.

To the crowd's surprise and shock, Bull Ali fell to the canvas like a lead weight and failed to get up.

The referee started the count. “One . . . two . . . three . . .”

“Get up!” the crowd began chanting. “Get up!!”

“. . . four . . . five . . . six . . .”

“Get up, you piece of shit!” screamed Bull Ali's beautiful, serene wife.

“. . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . .
ten!”

Pandemonium reigned.

Antonio “The Panther” Lopez was the new champion—exactly as he'd predicted.

•

The crowd poured out of the arena, buzzing with the heady excitement of the surprise ending to a truly great fight.

“I never thought he'd pull it off,” Madison said, as they made their way toward the entrance.

“I did,” said Cole, close behind her. “He's got killer eyes.”

“Enough about the eyes,” said Mr. Mogul, stopping to air-
kiss Pamela Anderson—a blond vision in a red rubber tube dress.

“Mr. Mogul knows everyone,” Cole confided.

“Ah, but
you
know all their dirty little secrets,” Natalie said wickedly. “Like who's had breast implants, lipo, penile enhancements—”

“Do you, Cole?” Madison asked, quite amused. “That could be a fascinating story. The plasticization of Hollywood. Lipo in La La Land. Victor would love it!”

“We did a segment on lips,” Natalie said. “I wanted to call it ‘Who's Been Kissing Whose Ass?' But the midget brains who run the network didn't get it.”

Jake caught up with them as they continued to jostle their way out of the arena. He grabbed Madison and hugged her. “We won!” he said happily. “Now I can buy you a present.”

“We did?” she replied, ridiculously pleased to see him.

“Yes, and we got our cover too. I know the shot I want Victor to use.”

“I'd better call him,” Madison said. “He'll be screaming for the piece I'm writing like yesterday.”

“Where are we meeting Jamie?” Cole asked.

“Ooops, I'd better call her room,” Natalie said, pulling out her cell phone. “And then—I don't know about anybody else, but
I'm
in the mood for food!”

•

“We lost, dammit,” Chas growled, not at all pleased. “Five thousand big ones.”

“You
lost,” Renee pointed out with a triumphant smile. “But
me,”
she boasted, “being such a smart cookie, I bet on the winner.”

“Ya did?”

“Should've followed my lead, darlin'. You
know
I always pick winners.”

“Ya sure do,” Chas said, chuckling.

“Remember that time at the racetrack—”

“When ya begged me to bet on—”

“The horse that was twenty to one—”

“An' I told ya it was crazy.”

“An' I said
you
were the crazy one.”