Page 82 of Legacy of Danger
He nodded to the inspector approaching. "Sooner or later, it'll be your funeral."
Unable to do anything without disqualifying himself from the fight, Vaughn knocked shoulders against Wyatt as he pushed into the locker room. Holy fuck, he wanted to destroy that man.
Why? Because the guy was a dick? No law against that.
Because Brand had the stones to come out here and make a pass at Mariah, when Vaughn's feeble attempt had crashed and burned?
Slumping on a bench, he scrubbed his hands over his face. Damn it. He needed to get a grip on his brain, his emotions, his ability to fight... or he wouldn't end up losing. He could end up dead.
* * *
Mariah's colleague, John Brandeis, was stitching up a fighter in the locker room. The woman who had lost the bout before Vaughn's fight had sustained an impressive cut above the eyebrow, and John was up for suture duty.
Which left Mariah to monitor the fight between Vaughn and Linc.
The shouts of the spectators swelled around her, anticipation driving them into a frenzy. Linc had a reputation for devastating his opponents, and, according to Angelo, Vaughn hadn't fought locally in a few years. The crowd welcomed Vaughn home.
But the crowd also wanted blood.
Vaughn's blood.
Her job placed Mariah firmly in a lose-lose situation. If she stopped the fight to protect Vaughn, he would never speak to her again. Fighters despised anyone who ended the fights. But if she didn't intervene, Linc could inflict serious damage. Or kill Vaughn. This fight was no joke.
The lights dimmed. Zips of adrenaline shot ice and heat through her veins.
Linc walked out from backstage, hoodie pulled over his head, AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" blaring over the PA system, and he swaggered like the champion of the entire world. The crowd roared as he ripped off the hoodie. Linc sneered over her while the cutman smeared Vaseline on his brows and cheekbones.
One of his entourage grinned and licked his meaty mouth. She groaned. Wyatt Brand.
She'd rather eat mud than be around that guy. After the incident at the hospital and then again at the ranch... God, he was so creepy, especially how he scanned her up and down. Didn't matter that she had the blazer on. She crossed her arms.
After Linc entered the octagon and his crew went to the other side of the ring, the music changed to the screaming angst-filled chorus of Linkin Park's "Numb." The shouted vocals and streaking guitar chords fit with the thick, angry mood.
Vaughn came out shirtless, letting the crowd see all of him. Raw. Sweaty. Powerful.
When he stopped a few feet away from her, she gulped. His dark blue Spandex fight shorts covered him from his narrow waist to the top of his solid thighs. As for the front of the shorts?Give that man a standing ovulation, ladies.
As if sensing her perusal, he turned his head and winked. Like today was no different than any other day.
What if every day held a view like this?Quit it.She needed to concentrate on the fight and do her job.
He entered the octagon, the announcer bellowed the introductions and rules, and the ref lowered his hand.
Instead of touching Vaughn's outstretched glove, Linc feinted and kicked his leg. Pain turned to brutal focus as gold glinted in the furious depths of Vaughn's dark eyes.
He withstood a flurry of jabs from Linc and sidestepped when the guy shot to his knees in a takedown attempt. A well-placed kick to the ribs knocked Linc on his ass, but the guy jumped up like he felt nothing.
Mariah held her breath and wiped her sweaty palms on her pants.
During the next furious exchange, Linc missed a bunch of shots, almost like Vaughn fought a half step ahead of the guy. Must be great reflexes.
Then, Linc's fist connected with Vaughn's cheekbone, and Vaughn staggered and hit the cage wall.
Linc laughed.
Vaughn raised his gloves to defend himself.
Mariah's heart pounded, each thud a miniature of the blows the men exchanged. Her head ached.
