Page 23 of Silent Night Sins
“See, I knew you liked this.” Donny sidled closer to me. His hand slid around my back, tracing my spine through the chunky sweater. “I didn’t use to understand you, Nicole, but I remembered how odd you were.”
I jerked away. “Yeah, I’m a weirdo. But you don’t have to invest in this just to impress me.”
Donny just laughed, but thankfully dropped his hand. “Relax, I took an interest in the underground fights when I heard how lucrative they could be.”
“Well, thanks for inviting me,” I started to say, but the bell rang. Air stuck in my throat. My lungs refused to work.
With a roar, the Siberian rushed across the ring. He had fifty pounds or more on the local boy. It was like watching a freight train cut across the small space, muscle and rage barreling down on Messina.
But the monster waited until the last second to spin out of the path of danger.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and gripped the flimsy barrier marking our section.
Messina landed a backward kick before bounding away.
I moved closer to the barrier, scooting away from Donny and letting the rest of the world fall away.
Vlad shook his head, wild gaze darting about as he searched for his prey. He lumbered forward, guard up. Messina stood in front of him, shifting his weight as he bounced on his toes. His hands hung loose at his side. He feinted right then left, tempting the brute to strike.
With a deadly combination, Vlad launched. His fists met air. Messina hung back until he saw an opening, then popped forward to deliver a vicious strike. He ducked just in time to miss a blow.
A bellow of pure rage rang out over the cheers of the crowd.
Vlad surged into a powerhouse of blows. He kept raining them down on Messina, who took a glancing shot to the shoulder and kidneys. But it was all so that the local boy could strike within the brute’s guard.
Vlad stumbled back, spitting blood and his mouthguard onto the mat.
Messina didn’t miss the opportunity. He launched a wicked kick, twisting to land his heel right in the brute’s thick throat.
Vlad reached for his neck at the same time Messina jumped on his back. Black, fingerless gloves rained blows on the Siberian’s meaty shoulders. Just like a thick tree in the forest, the brute toppled.
But the fight wasn’t over.
“What’s his grappling record? The Rusky?” I shouted to the Red Sox fan.
“He’s got a wicked triangle,” the man answered, pushing to stand beside me. “Messina needs to be careful!”
“Watch his hook!” I shouted, unable to help myself. “Lock him up, Tino! Quick fucking around!”
In response to my words, the black gaze snapped up. Suddenly, it was me who was locked in place. Time stopped, and for a split second, the noise of the arena faded away.
My body burned with recognition. The magnetic energy crackled through my veins.
Vlad stole the moment to deliver a vicious punch to Messina’s rib.
Reality crashed back. I sagged against the divider as Messina’s roar of anger lanced through the ring. In a tangle of kicking limbs, the local boy escaped the brute’s guard. It gave Vlad the leverage to regain his feet.
Messina shook himself. The next rush showed that he’d been playing with his opponent. A cat taunting the mouse. Playtime was over. His dance was lethal. Each move was designed to hurt, maim, and draw blood. Less than a minute later, right before the bell rang, Vlad toppled to the mat.
The Siberian twitched once, but his bullish frame didn’t rise.
The ref jumped in front of Messina. The bell rang for the end of the first round, but when Vlad didn’t move, the ref grabbed Messina’s arm, raising it in victory.
The crowd exploded.
I screamed the loudest of them all.
“I knew you’d like it,” Donny beamed, coming back to my side.
