Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) Read Free Page A

the Tali’s muzzle flash a second before the bullet’s report echoed through the air, and the full metal jacket slammed into Remmy’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground. “Noooo!”
    Reacting on reflex, Nikko threw a wild punch, trying to get loose from the invisible hold. His fist connected with something solid and he gained his freedom, but the victory was short-lived. A second later, something slammed into him from behind—hard—and he was on the ground. Wham! Something collided with his face, and it was lights out.

    What the hell happened?
    Nikko sat on the edge of the narrow cot, springs poking him in the ass through the thin, broken-down mattress. Elbows braced against his knees, he sat there, staring at his bandaged hand, trying to remember how in the hell he got here. Yeah, there wasn’t much coming to him. Then again, sometimes it took a little while for his head to clear and his memories to realign with reality. Curling his fingers into a fist, he tested his bandaged hand and then cursed at the tug of stitches in his palm. What in the hell happened to his hand, and how was he going to fight like this tomorrow?
    The energy in the air shifted, and Nikko sensed he was no longer alone well before he heard the heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. He didn’t bother lifting his head. He had no interest in seeing whoever would appear on the other side of those bars. Thanks to the knot on his temple, his head was pounding in time with his heartbeat, much like the cadence his drill sergeant used to bellow at his squadron.
    Like it was yesterday, the words echoed through his mind, put to the tune of his hammering pulse.
    Runnin’ through the desert with my M16
    I’m a mean motor scooter
    I’m a US Marine
    If ya see me comin’, you better step aside
    ’Cause many men didn’t and many men died . . .
    When he paid no attention to the Doc Martens stepping into his periphery, the man cleared his throat, making his presence known. Slowly, Nikko lifted his head and locked eyes with the coldest pair of ice blues he’d ever seen. He didn’t know Cole Easton, aka “The Beast of the East,” very well, but he knew the legend. Best damn fighter in the CFA and champion of the light-heavyweight division—Coach’s golden boy. A year ago, Easton had taken an illegal kick to the spine during a title fight that nearly ended his career.
    Just when things were starting to come back together for him, he’d taken a bullet that was meant for his girl and it had shattered his shoulder. Thirteen months and still counting, the guy had been out of the octagon, but there were whispered rumors about a grudge match in the making between Easton and Crazy Dan DeGrasse.
    So, yeah, other than being an MMA god, who happened to be Disco Stick Kruze’s good friend and old sparring partner, he didn’t really know a whole lot about the guy. But by the way he was staring Nikko down right now, it was easy to see there wasn’t going to be any love lost between them.
    “They stitch your hand up?”
    Nikko nodded, flexing it again to test his range of motion. “Must have. I don’t really remember what happened.”
    Easton glared daggers at him. No doubt it was deserved. “Well, let me refresh your memory. The media came around, started snapping a few pictures of you. You lost your shit, broke a glass in your hand, and hit Coach. The press is having a field day with this, the CFA is pissed, and I’m fucking furious. All I can say is you’re lucky you’re behind bars right now.”
    No . . . It couldn’t be true. Did he . . . did he seriously hit Coach?—and at a CFA publicity party? Maybe they should just lock his ass up and throw away the key. It’d been so long since he’d had a rage blackout, he’d thought that shit was behind him. And here he’d thought he was handling this so well. Well being a relative term here. He was doing “well” when he wasn’t drinking himself to sleep, because passing out was just about the