Page 83 of Legacy of Danger
Linc's fist shot out and caught Vaughn again on the left cheek, knocking him to the mat. In a flash, Linc had top mount position, pounding away until Vaughn flexed his torso, rolled, brought his legs up, and clamped them onto Linc. The individual cords of muscles in Vaughn's taut calves and thighs shook with effort to pull Linc down and away from his face.
Mariah's own legs burned, locked as they were while she watched.
The crowd screamed. Her ears rang. Linc drew back a massive fist and dropped it down on Vaughn, who deflected the brutal face blow at the last minute.
As Linc leaned forward, his forearm forced Vaughn's trachea inward, pushing harder and harder. Vaughn's face turned beet red. Sweat and blood from a cut on his forehead rolled down his temple. He couldn't breathe. If the brutal pressure continued, the cartilage would be crushed.
She didn't move.
Thank God the bell rang and the ref stepped in.
The men separated, but not before Linc spun and caught Vaughn in the upper arm, Vaughn's grunt of pain audible over the gasps of the crowd.
She studied the men in their corners and then checked over to the ref. The official shook his head. No need for Mariah to enter the cage; both men would fight another round.
Oh, God. Could Vaughn survive five rounds?
The Latin script on his chest rose and fell rapidly as he sucked in lungfuls of air.
The bell rang. She held her breath as Linc drove Vaughn back with hands that fell like deadly bricks. Even worse, for some reason, Vaughn kept glancing over at her, opening himself up to even more brutal blows to the face and kicks to the legs.
Why the hell wasn't he paying attention to the fight? He needed to defend himself or Linc would kill him.
"Hi, Mariah."
She jumped.
Hot, foul breath blew by her.
"Wyatt, move away. You can't be here. I'm working." She continued to monitor the fight. When his hand drifted over her lower back and below, she flinched away. Damn this guy. Another brief headache stabbed her in the temple.
"How about breakfast in bed tomorrow?" He chuckled.
Seriously? She hazarded a quick check. Yeah, he was about to put his other slimy hand on her. Although she wanted to yell at him, she had to concentrate on keeping the fighters safe. Make that one particular fighter. When Vaughn's focus drifted over to her again, Linc tagged him in the ear. Vaughn stumbled back into the cage, shaking his head like he needed to clear it.
A lump formed in her throat. Oh, God. She'd never gotten this emotional over a fight.
Wyatt's hand closed on her shoulder. Gross. Mariah leaned away. "Get away from me now or I'll have security called."
"After you witness Taggart get beat to death, maybe you'll be more interested in me." Wyatt's voice grated along her nerves.
"Get out of my space. Now." She put as much force into her words as possible.
She waved to get Angelo's attention, ten seats over. The promoter's brows shot up as he shoved out of his seat and motioned for nearby security personnel to join him. With a determined scowl, he waded through the crowd toward her.
A tingle of warmth seeped over her. Like fine chain mail. Light but secure. Followed by that headache. A compulsion forced her gaze back to Vaughn. He squinted at her and shuffled his feet to move sideways and avoid a lethal roundhouse kick.
Wyatt tightened a hand on her waist. "You'll be crawling back to me soon. Very soon."
Having his breath on her neck made her want to scour her skin with bleach. "Leave me alone or you're going to be in big trouble."
His laugh, like a sack of rocks tumbling, made her grit her teeth.
"No. You'll be in trouble." He snickered. "And pretty boy is getting his ass handed to him up there. Hope you're ready to do some CPR." He pointed as Linc unleashed another hammer of a fist into Vaughn.
Angelo slid between her and Wyatt, pulling her away from the jerk and setting her behind the considerable bulk of his body. Security grabbed Wyatt and removed him from the arena.
She patted Angelo's arm and stepped away to refocus her attention on the fight.
Just in time for her to watch Vaughn eat a knee to the face and crumple to the mat, courtesy of a snarling Linc.
