Page 78 of Legacy of Danger
Chapter 21
The faint scent of sweat, male body spray, and a sharp undertone of adrenaline mixed with testosterone assailed Mariah as she entered the back door of Owl Creek Casino on Saturday afternoon.
"Hi, Doc," Angelo, the bear of a fight promoter for Out West MMA, glanced up from his desk as she passed it. "Thanks for helping us out again."
"For you? Anytime." She laughed as his half hug enveloped her. Once Angelo learned she was Kevin West's big sister, she had become Angelo's family by default. Didn't hurt that her brother had headlined an outstanding bantamweight fight for Out West last summer.
He tugged his suit back into place and handed her a paper. "Here's the final list. Fights start in two hours, if you can get the fighters ready."
"Of course. Hey, who's working with me today?"
"Dr. John Brandeis. He's running late and asked for you to do the pre-fight physicals; he'll stay late to finish the post-fights."
She gulped. "Sounds fair. Everything in the locker rooms?"
"As always, it's all ready." His smile pushed his cheeks up until his eyes disappeared.
"Anything else for me?"
With a wink, he reached around to a short file cabinet behind him and produced a disposable cup of steaming, aromatic coffee. She sipped and sighed.
Then, glancing down the list, she felt her heart sank when she reached the second-to-last fight. As she had feared, Vaughn was fighting in the light heavyweight division against Linc.
A shiver worked its way up her back to settle on her neck. Linc. She had worked a fight where he had competed before. Everyone knew Linc's reputation. That jerk had been around for years, sprinkling bad attitude and dirty tricks around many regional matches.
As for women being anywhere near the octagon? His opinions were clear: ring girls were the only females allowed near the ring. Not as fighters or officials and certainly not as a ringside doctor. The last time Mariah had done his pre-fight, he figured out who her brother was, and from there she rode a downhill spiral of his veiled, disrespectful comments. God help her if she ever disqualified him from a fight.
With a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back. Passing the arena, busy with workers setting up chairs and testing the light and PA systems, she entered the backstage area where makeshift locker rooms had been set up.
Nodding to the suit-clad inspector as she entered the makeshift exam room, she checked her equipment. Blood pressure cuff, pulse ox, a box of vinyl gloves, a penlight, and fight forms on a clipboard, all ready. She shrugged off her blazer, draped her stethoscope over her neck, and indicated to the inspector to send in the first fighter.
Twelve fighters later, the door opened and Linc stalked in, took one look at her, and snorted. Good lord, he was a big guy when she'd seen him at the ranch. But up close and this pumped up, the man was more than a little scary. If he wasn't on steroids, then he had the best training regimen she'd ever seen. Sure enough, she turned the key on the urine cup he presented for his drug screen and it came up as clean. The guy radiated strength and killer instinct, and judging by his snarl, knew it all too well. He stopped bare inches from her, invading her personal space and hovering over her, like he'd done at the Brand ranch.
Trapped.
Didn't matter that the nice fight inspector stood ten feet away from her. Stomach acid bubbled up. She shoved it back down and faced Linc as she disposed of her gloves. No way would she let him get the satisfaction of scaring her. Again.
"Have a seat." She motioned to the chair as she fought an urge to cover her chest.
The inspector wouldn't notice Linc's tiny delay, but Mariah read the disrespect, loud and clear. Her skin twitched. It wasn't that the guy towered over her and could tear her arm off without breaking a sweat. Lots of fighters—men and women—were strong. This guy was different. Personally intimidating.
Threatening.
She needed to get through the exam and move on.
"Arm, please."
Another pause and he lifted his arm for the blood pressure cuff. Only he didn't bring it all the way up, so she had to bend down.
While the cuff inflated, he sneered at her. "Nice seeing you again, Doc. Your brother still training at that loser gym in Salt Lake?"
Ripping the Velcro cuff off, she then punched a button on the pulse ox machine. "Finger, please."
Damn him if he didn't give his middle one.
Again, nothing overt, but his leer made her want to hide. She recorded results and removed the devices. Ignoring the sweat irritating her upper lip, she settled the stethoscope earpieces in place. "Deep breath."
He complied, staring at her chest the entire time.
