his fight. His opponent dropped to his butt, and then fell to his back into the guard position in an effort to recover and protect himself. Holmes pounced, passed guard and began pounding. The gravity of what they were witnessing took hold.
They bolted through the door and into the guts of the arena.
The hallway seemed to stretch with each step. They flew past the doctors who’d left their room moments before. The fight was just stopped, the crowd going crazy. They fought through a throng of people and scanned a blur of faces in search of her. Rodrigo spotted her first and snatched his friend’s shoulder. “Over there, Bretten.”
The football players were full of adrenaline-induced ecstasy and re-enacting the final moments of the fight. Their trophies tried hard to look put off by it all, but underneath their facades sat their very own pent up pools of adrenaline, not as much as their men, but adrenaline just the same. Then Bretten saw her.
She was hunched over. Her left hand on one of the standing football player’s vacated seats. She was in her own world, unaffected by the hysterical surroundings. This alone was troubling, but as he pushed through the fans he noticed her eyes appeared moist, out of focus.
She did not see him as he raced between the first row of excited fans and the animated cageside announcers. She did not see him as he turned up the aisle only three steps away.
But he saw her. Her right arm hugged her stomach. Her right hand clutched her left side. And to Bretten’s horror, he saw glistening blood shining like the football players’ jewelry. It spilled through her fingers. Her left hand slipped off the chair, she stumbled, and like he had done only minutes ago and feet away, she crumpled.
Her head slammed into the chair in front of her, but Bretten caught her before she hit the concrete. He yelled, but it harmonized with the chaos in the arena. Bretten’s mind was numb. He’d found his love, and now it had come to this. He couldn’t take any more heartache and felt himself breaking.
Her blood-soaked fingers slid from his shirt and wrapped around his shaking hand. She squeezed. He realized he was still holding the teddy bear. She searched for his face with her eyes, and found it. Her lips curled up slightly and quivered. She blinked rapidly, and then her eyes closed.
Chapter Three
One Year before UCC 132
T he darkness probed Nick Maris’ headlights as he cruised along Highway 93 at 90 miles per hour. The thin two-lane road was a bridge cutting through a sea of dirt and shrubs. It was just after midnight and he had the road to himself. His eyes burned and the knot on his shin pulsated with each beat of his heart.
Nick was returning from a Tae Kwon Do tournament in Prescott, Arizona. He took second place in the red belt division. He would’ve liked to have won, but he’d come a long way in a couple years. His younger brother, Bretten, actually got him into combat sports. He was a college baseball player and started training in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Nick was a little envious of his brother, but proud of him too. The very next day his team was playing in the championship game and Nick planned on watching it on TV. He wanted to fly out in person, but it was too expensive.
Structure was important for Nick and BJJ and Tae Kwon Do gave it to him. For years he’d been in and out of trouble, burglary, drugs, assault in a bar fight, you name it. Now he was cleaning up though, and oddly enough he was doing so in Sin City. He’d moved to Vegas a year ago and worked as a limo driver for a spell before getting a job as a bouncer at a trendy club. He made enough money to get by, and when he wasn’t working he was training his ass off. A lot of his training partners thought Tae Kwon Do wasn’t as efficient as other combat sports, but he didn’t care. He loved kicking.
Nick glanced at himself in his rearview mirror. His eyes were as red as they felt, and his dark hair was a mess. Even the light
They bolted through the door and into the guts of the arena.
The hallway seemed to stretch with each step. They flew past the doctors who’d left their room moments before. The fight was just stopped, the crowd going crazy. They fought through a throng of people and scanned a blur of faces in search of her. Rodrigo spotted her first and snatched his friend’s shoulder. “Over there, Bretten.”
The football players were full of adrenaline-induced ecstasy and re-enacting the final moments of the fight. Their trophies tried hard to look put off by it all, but underneath their facades sat their very own pent up pools of adrenaline, not as much as their men, but adrenaline just the same. Then Bretten saw her.
She was hunched over. Her left hand on one of the standing football player’s vacated seats. She was in her own world, unaffected by the hysterical surroundings. This alone was troubling, but as he pushed through the fans he noticed her eyes appeared moist, out of focus.
She did not see him as he raced between the first row of excited fans and the animated cageside announcers. She did not see him as he turned up the aisle only three steps away.
But he saw her. Her right arm hugged her stomach. Her right hand clutched her left side. And to Bretten’s horror, he saw glistening blood shining like the football players’ jewelry. It spilled through her fingers. Her left hand slipped off the chair, she stumbled, and like he had done only minutes ago and feet away, she crumpled.
Her head slammed into the chair in front of her, but Bretten caught her before she hit the concrete. He yelled, but it harmonized with the chaos in the arena. Bretten’s mind was numb. He’d found his love, and now it had come to this. He couldn’t take any more heartache and felt himself breaking.
Her blood-soaked fingers slid from his shirt and wrapped around his shaking hand. She squeezed. He realized he was still holding the teddy bear. She searched for his face with her eyes, and found it. Her lips curled up slightly and quivered. She blinked rapidly, and then her eyes closed.
Chapter Three
One Year before UCC 132
T he darkness probed Nick Maris’ headlights as he cruised along Highway 93 at 90 miles per hour. The thin two-lane road was a bridge cutting through a sea of dirt and shrubs. It was just after midnight and he had the road to himself. His eyes burned and the knot on his shin pulsated with each beat of his heart.
Nick was returning from a Tae Kwon Do tournament in Prescott, Arizona. He took second place in the red belt division. He would’ve liked to have won, but he’d come a long way in a couple years. His younger brother, Bretten, actually got him into combat sports. He was a college baseball player and started training in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Nick was a little envious of his brother, but proud of him too. The very next day his team was playing in the championship game and Nick planned on watching it on TV. He wanted to fly out in person, but it was too expensive.
Structure was important for Nick and BJJ and Tae Kwon Do gave it to him. For years he’d been in and out of trouble, burglary, drugs, assault in a bar fight, you name it. Now he was cleaning up though, and oddly enough he was doing so in Sin City. He’d moved to Vegas a year ago and worked as a limo driver for a spell before getting a job as a bouncer at a trendy club. He made enough money to get by, and when he wasn’t working he was training his ass off. A lot of his training partners thought Tae Kwon Do wasn’t as efficient as other combat sports, but he didn’t care. He loved kicking.
Nick glanced at himself in his rearview mirror. His eyes were as red as they felt, and his dark hair was a mess. Even the light
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