Page 50 of Caged Heat

“Whoa.” I craned my neck, shielding my eyes from the sun as I climbed out of the car and came face to face with the complex.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Jackson beamed, throwing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me with him as he practically skipped.

“Oh sure, I’ll get the bags,” August ruffed from behind. Jackson snorted, dropping his arm to return to the car and help.

August shook his head but had a soft smile on his face for Jackson. It was impossible to be mad at him; his enthusiasm and pure light shone wherever he went.

My eyes continued to bug out of my head as we entered the facility and went through security. Then it was onto weighing, and I held back my drool as Jackson stripped down to his tight shorts. From there, he took a drug screen and had a quick physical. I didn’t know if I was impressed with the setup or more stressed that they went to these lengths.

It hit me then that this was a legit fight, and I suddenly worried about the caliber of his opponent. What if he got hurt?

“He’ll be okay,” August said, pulling me closer. His eyes trailed over my face, taking in the worry lines and concern. “He’s ready for this. I wouldn’t let him if he wasn’t.”

Nodding, I sucked in a breath at that knowledge. August was right. He wouldn’t endanger Jackson if he wasn’t ready. I’d seen him fight and knew he was good, so I had to trust them. This was the right path.

“You’re all set, Powers. There are a few hours before your fight. You’re not allowed to leave, and you can have anything already in the dressing room. If we find you’ve had any contraband, you’ll be disqualified. Understood?”

“Got it.” Jackson shook out his arms and legs, keeping his muscles warm. The official glanced at August and me, nodding to indicate we could go through. August wore a Warrior Grounds Gym shirt with the word ‘Coach’ on the pocket, marking him as part of Jackson’s team. They’d given me a Warrior Grounds shirt that said ‘assistant,’ hoping it would gain me access too. None of us wanted to be separated, so it seemed like the best option.

Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be as strict on entourage as they were contestants and allowed us both to enter. The three of us walked silently down the hallway; sounds of other fights and cheers erupting could be heard each time a new door opened.

Jackson stopped at the door he’d been directed to, stepping back for us both to enter first. Looking around at the space, I was impressed with the setup. It was like a dressing room with a shower, sink, and bathroom stall. There was a large mirror and counter on the other wall and a table full of food and sealed water bottles. A large rug sat in the middle, a couch and chair placed on top of it, with a vase of flowers on a table.

Jackson sat his bag on the counter and stretched his hands above his head. His eyes heated as he took in the couch, his mouth opening as he turned to us.

“Nope. Not until after,” August demanded, stopping whatever Jackson was about to say. He pouted, but his eyes brightened.

“After you say?” He placed his hands on his hips and lifted his eyebrows as he looked me up and down. “Okay, I’m game.”

“I’ll make it interesting,” I promised, feeling brave.

“Oh, I’m so gonna win twice tonight.” Jackson rubbed his hands together as his eyes heated.

August chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “First, it’s time to focus. Stretches, and then we’re meditating. I want you at your best out there.”

Despite feeling like we had tons of time, it went by quickly, and I eagerly followed August and Jackson out into the arena. My heart pounded in my chest, both from excitement and trepidation. Stopping where August told me to, I wrung my hands as they continued the rest of the way to the cage without me.

The crowd cheered when they announced his name, goosebumps spreading over me as he lifted his arm and waved. The other guy was covered in tattoos, with a menacing smile as he was announced. The ref reviewed a few brief rules before stepping back, and the clock set to zero.

With the sound of the bell, my heart lurched into my throat.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JACKSON

The first moment I stepped into an octagon, I felt a surge of adrenaline, unlike anything I’d felt before. It was full body and electrifying, zinging my nerve endings from head to toe. There was a sense of rightness, like I’d been meant to discover it.

I had the same feeling the first time I kissed Ella.

It didn’t slip my notice that they were things I had to work for and could lose in a blink of an eye. Life had a funny way of making a point sometimes.

The crowd around the ring was a mass of people writhing and thrumming with energy. Their voices echoed around the stadium, and the spotlights shone brightly on the cage. My opponent stared at me as the ref spoke into the mic. He was called ‘The Bullet’ because he often struck with such precision it rendered his opponents lifeless in seconds.

His real name was Greg Smith, so I understood why he went by The Bullet instead. His eyes were menacing as he stared at me, promising pain. I smirked, shaking my arms and legs, and assessed him instead of wasting time trying to scare him. He wouldn’t be afraid of me.

With my clean-cut looks, I didn’t give off a terrifying image, unlike him. He was tall, solidly built, and covered in tattoos with scars littering the skin that wasn’t marked up. His nose was crooked, and he had a slash through his eyebrow, showing evidence of all the fights he’d been in before. With his head shaven and the gauges in his ears—though they were removed for the fight—he gave off a dark vibe. One that made you want to run the other way.

Me, on the other hand, the only tattoo I had was the wolf on my thigh, and it wasn’t all that intimidating. On top of that, I had average stats and looked like I wouldn’t hurt a fly. His face already said he had won, so I gave him a smirk.

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