Dom
I LOOK IN the shitty mirror and flex, I’m tatted up, broad as hell and fit as fuck. Have to be, where I come from it’s the survival of the fittest. And I’m the fucking fittest.
No excuses.
No giving up.
In it to win it.
When I walk in the ring I’m there to do one thing. Take my opponent down. There’s no rules, anything goes. No medic on standby to wheel you away when you get hurt. Best you can hope for is being dumped in an alley somewhere you might be found. Losing isn’t an option for me. It’s not just that, there’s a big payday after each fight if you win. I need that money. So I take them out. It’s me or them. It’s my third fight in two weeks, I ache but it’s a good ache. It keeps me on my toes and the pain is a reminder of why I’m here.
The place is a shit hole and I’m in what was once a public toilet, the sinks are fucked, the taps don’t work, and I dread to think what the toilets are like. I wrap my knuckles in red wraps, it was a pain in my ass at first to do it on my own, trying to wrap my right hand with the left but I’ve learnt now. It was a case of having to. My knuckles have been broken and popped too many times to count. It’s not much protection but it’s better than nothing at all. I shake my arms and jump from foot to foot on the spot, cracking my neck from side to side. I put my mouth guard in and push the door open. The crowd are screaming for blood and I push my way through them. The fight before mine is over and the guy is being dragged from the cage unconscious. He’s a mess. His first time, and no doubt his last. He’s tossed to the side like fucking garbage. Paying him no more attention than I need to, I make my way up the stairs and into the cage. The little guy who announces the fighters is crudely mopping at blood with a white towel—it smears in arcs across the ring and his attempt to make it better fails. I step in and start to stretch my legs, side stepping around the cage. Arms shook out and rolling my neck some more until it clicks, I absorb the ache. Getting in the zone. I need to hurt this fucker and fast. I don’t need to put my body through any more shit than necessary today. In and out Dom.
My opponent comes in the ring. I’ve seen him before and he’s a good fighter. I’ve watched him take a few down, but he hasn’t come across me yet. I won’t be going down. Not for him. Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it.
He’s about my height maybe an inch or two taller. He isn’t as broad as I am but he has the muscle. He stares at me from the opposite side of the cage. Trying to psych me out, not going to happen, just a walk in the park. I glare back curling my lip slightly. My eyes never leaving his. There’s always a few minutes while all the greedy fuckers in the crowd exchange money for bets. Deciding on who they like for the win. I haven’t lost a fight yet, but neither has this guy. He’s about to though. I clench and unclench my fists, pacing back and forth in front of him. Eager to get this done. The little guy comes in and raises his arms, the crowd goes quiet. He doesn’t say shit, we know the rules. Fight until you can’t. That’s it. He Yells out, ‘To the left we have Dominic the Dominator, to the right, Jake the Jackhammer.’ Fucking stupid names if you ask me but it gets the crowd going. I watch him waiting for the clap of his hands to signal the beginning of the fight. His hands meet but the echo is lost in the thunderous roar the crowd makes baying for blood. With one thing on my mind I step forward, paying no attention to the little guy running for freedom from the cage. My eyes are on the Jackhammer. He dances a little on his toes, spinning his fists like he’s skipping a rope. I wait a beat of a second before I rush him not giving him time to protect his face as I fake a blow to the gut, with my right hand. I’m a righty, it’s obvious for anyone to see in my stance, but I’ve learnt to use my left with just as much power. He hasn’t done his homework like me. He doesn’t see my left uppercut coming. It’s that simple, that easy, he’s out cold. One punch. Like I said, it’s a walk in the park. The crowd goes wild, and I raise my left fist in appreciation. The little guy comes back in and he looks pissed. I grin.
‘You bet on the other guy?’ He shakes his head at me. ‘Fuck Micky you should know better.’ I grin harder and turn to leave the cage. As I hit the bottom step, I see a beautiful woman, her auburn hair drops below her shoulders in waves and her plump lips press into a hard line. It’s hard to take my eyes off her. Of course, there are women here all the time, they often watch the fights and then try it on after, wanting a walk on the dark side with a bad boy fighter. I know the types. But this one, takes up all my attention. I stand a beat of a second too long and the guys trying to dump my opponent out of the ring grumble as I block their path.
Time is money here, and the next fighters are already on their way in. I move out of their way losing her in the crowd. Fuck. I have an urge to find her and I scan the crowd until I see her. One of the big guns has his hand wrapped around her upper arm, like he’s forcing her to stay at his side. Her auburn hair is pristinely done. As if she feels my gaze, her eyes meet mine. My dick jerks in appreciation, and before I know what I’m doing, I work my way towards her. Before I catch up, she’s being dragged away, I try to follow, but I lose them through a side door. It’s guarded, and the guy shakes his head at me as I approach. I keep walking toward the door as if I didn’t see the movement. His hand comes up to my chest.
‘No entry,’ he says in a strong gypsy accent.
‘Come on man?’ I plead.
‘No fuckin’ entry,’ I know I could take this idiot down. But I also know that I won’t like the consequences. So, I walk away. Pissed off. But, I can’t afford to lose these paydays, certainly not over a fancy looking pussy. I make my way over to the cash desk and collect my earnings. A grand a fight is easy fucking money.
***
Chloe
My one opportunity to escape and I get distracted by a damn fight? What the hell is wrong with me? Okay maybe it wasn’t specifically the fight, maybe it was more the man in the ring built like a tank who took the other guy as though he were nothing. The moment my eyes landed on him, everything else ceased to exist. As he left the ring our gazes locked and for a fleeting moment we just stared at each other. Could he have felt the same thing I had?
‘Get the fuck in there!’ A shove through the door I’ve just tried to run through, brings me back to the present. I chance a glance backward before I’m through the door and he’s there, coming towards us. I didn’t manage to get his attention, I should have been screaming for help but instead I was rendered speechless. I’m a moron.
‘Why are you doing this to me? I already told you my father won’t pay the ransom. He disowned me years ago.’ I screech the last part, hoping they will get it through their thick skulls.
The douchebag henchman finally lets go of my arm and I start to pace back and forth in the shoebox sized office they have me holed up in. My father and I stopped seeing eye to eye years ago, when I was old enough to notice his career took the main focus in his life. I was nothing but an afterthought. All I ever wanted was to be a family and considering he was all I had left, I wanted that with him. So, when our relationship hit its final trial and nothing good came from it, I cut ties and bailed. Left the States and ran clear across the ocean to my favourite vacation spot. London. My mom used to bring me here and we’d spend all day looking at the sights and shopping. Dad never came with us.
‘Chloe come sit down.’ My main captor, Patrick, commands through gritted teeth, his American accent clanging against all the British sounds I’ve been around. He’s sitting behind a beat up mahogany desk, his face is a furious mask. I do as he says and drop into the chair directly opposite of him. ‘We’re not going after your father for ransom money. If he hadn’t stolen two million from us we wouldn’t be in this position. I wouldn’t have needed to send these two after you, to try to get my money back.’ He points behind me to the two towering English goons who took me from outside my apartment this afternoon when I was getting home from work.
‘Why would my dad have stolen money from you? The firm pays him a cushy little pay check. He’s never had money issues.’ I’m sure the confusion is written all over my face.
‘Did you get a good look at where we’re at princess?’
‘Yeah, we’re at a fight sitting in your crappy office.’
He laughs at my response. ‘It’s not a normal fight, princess. It’s an underground fight and the only reason people attend is to place bets and watch people get beat to a pulp. I host these fights here and in the States. I met your father at one.’ He waves a hand as if this is all boring. ‘The details don’t concern you anyway. But I want my two mil back and I will do what I need to get it. And right now, that means keeping you until the money’s paid back.’
Patricks eyes are dark and dangerous. I know my dad used to dabble in gambling in his spare time when I was growing up. But this is all so much to take in. He may have been a shitty father but he did good business, or so I thought. How much has changed in the three years I’ve been gone?
‘Well, as I said, my dad and I are no longer on speaking terms and it’s been that way for some years now. I really don’t think he’s going to drop everything and rush over here to save his estranged daughter. Especially if he doesn’t have the money to pay you back. You could just let me go and I won’t report it to the authorities. This could all end now.’ I chew on my lip nervously while waiting for him to respond. Patrick stands abruptly and makes his way to the door, pulling it open, as he leaves he turns back towards me—his parting words crystal clear.
‘He will pay, or else.’