Page 53 of Rushed

Mick is the first to attack. He comes forward with a headshot that Linc dodges and counters with a kick to the ribs, sending Mick flying back. The Maddi goes nuts as the fight starts off quickly, and with a vengeance. The spectators have no idea how much pent-up rage and frustration is in the bout. Lincoln fronts across the space and swings his own shot with a quick roundhouse kick to the legs, knocking Mick to the mat. I watch in awe. Everyone’s told me that Lincoln’s strength is best when he’s upright, but he took Mick down to the mat in a surprise move. They’re both evenly matched in size, but its Lincoln’s form that is fluid, like a cat. Mick is fast, but in no way graceful. His is more brute strength than beauty.

Mick rises off the mat fast with a handspring to his feet, where he squares back off with Linc, trying for the attack again. The whole time, his corner has been shouting at him to take him to the mat, to get him down.

Lincoln seems to see the moves Mick makes before they come, but he dodges every one. Nothing touches him. It’s an erotic dance of countering. His lithe form jumps up with a fast knee to the ribs before bounding back down on the mat again. Lincoln is toying with him.

I never had a chance to watch him spar at the gym after that first night, so I missed this side of him. It’s fucking beautiful. I mean, sure, I saw him take Mick down drunk at the club, but that was nothing. This is poetry in motion as he hits Mick. Mick tries over and over to counter hit, but all of his shots are weak, even his leg shots.

The bell chimes, and as they break apart to their respective corners, Mick seems winded, where Rush seems at ease. They confer with their teams and rinse out their mouths as the bell strikes again for the second round. I thought I’d be nervous wreck, but seeing him at ease, I know I had nothing to worry about.

Once more, the two men face off, touching gloves to start the new round. This time is different. Lincoln is on the attack right off the bat. I sit on the edge of my seat as he comes at Mick with fervor. Mick is protecting his head and using his knees to block the kicks that are like a freight train at full speed. Just when I think the fight is totally one-sided, I hear the crowd begin to complain, and collective sighs are heard throughout.

Mick was able to get up under Linc’s defenses and hit him square in the jaw. Lincoln backs away from Mick on the cage, and gives his head a shake. He didn’t see that coming, and Mick advances, seeing an opportunity to strike. As Lincoln sees him coming, he takes him to the mat with a flip of his body, while holding Mick’s arm out straight. I hear a clear snap, and Mick screams. He lays across the mat with his right arm flaccid, lying across his chest, completely useless. It’s then that he taps out with his left and the fight is over. The pussy gave in at the first sign of defeat, and it’s back to Lincoln as the champ.

Troy and I look at each other, grinning from ear to ear, as I motion for the police to step forward. They have been waiting by the edge of the cage, and the exits to make sure not one of the Jackson’s, or their entourage, escape.

“The undisputed, and still reigning heavyweight champion, Lincoln ‘Rush’Moore!” The announcer steps into the ring, handing the belt to Linc, and he raises his arms in the air. His dimples suck in and I know the biggest, wickedest smile is the cause, even with a massive mouth guard in place. He did it in less than two rounds and vindicated himself of the anguish. Mick-fucking-asshole-Jackson will never,everhave a shot at vying for the title again.

I move around the steel enclosure to the far side with Troy and Jax in tow. We have someplace to be, and I don’t want to miss a thing. With Lincoln motioning for us to join him, he makes his way towards the open door of the cage. I watch as the police advance on Senator Jackson. He looks pissed, and slightly concerned with their presence.

“Get your hands off me! Don’t you know who I am? I’m a senator, you dull-witted piss-ant!” The great and glorious Senator Jackson yells to the police officer who has his hands. He’s binding them behind him, as the officer locks the cuffs in place. It’s comical that Mr. Jackson feels his status will get him out of this predicament. Mick’s arm is uselessly dangling at his side, so the officer only has to put light pressure against it for his compliance. I don’t normally get to have this opportunity, but the officer in charge was nice enough to let me inform them of their charges myself. Of course, they would still read them their Miranda Rights, but I was all aflutter with the joy.

“Senator, they know exactly who you are. You are under arrest for extortion and tampering with evidence for the role you played in your son’s crimes. And I’m glad to say, your son is now under arrest for not only the charges he had previously, but the newest charge of rape.” Troy and I added that one for good measure, as we found the older tapes from the club, as well as a witness who decided to step forward, to testify against Mick.

“These two lovely gentlemen too, officers. You are both under arrest for suspicion of rape, battery, and attempted murder,” I say, pointing to the two goons.

“Against who, you cunt?” The stupid one asks. This would be asshole number one.

“Against me, you smelly, pencil dick bastard.” I may look more like Audrey Hepburn right now than Ellen Degeneres in her lazy days, but I think he knows who he’s talking to. Fucknuts two doesn’t say a word; he just accepts his new jewelry with a despondent sigh.

As the police drag the group away, Lincoln steps away from the cage and right into my personal space. He smells of sweat and man musk, and he’s all mine. I’ll fight harder than any to keep him in my life.

“Keenan.” He bends low and close to my face.

“Yes, Lincoln?”

“Can we go home now? I’m ready for a good feck.”

Always.

“Yes, Lincoln. Let’s go home.”

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