Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
After Matos finished wiping the floor with the other Brazilian, I got an uneasy feeling. The guy was impressive. It made me nervous for Kage, who had the demeanor of a fighter, but whose face looked entirely too pretty. If this match was any indication of things to come, Kage would probably be the one limping home when it came to fighting Matos. Maybe this fight would scare him enough to back down.
I scanned the crowd for him, but there were too many faces to sift through. I couldn’t find him— couldn’t see if he was scared.
After watching two more fights, I’d come to the realization that I knew virtually nothing about mixed martial arts fighting. Sometimes Braden ordered a keg on pay-per-view nights, and we watched the fight and got smashed. I’d always been an armchair spectator, more concerned with keeping a full beer in one hand and my girlfriend’s ass in the other than what was going on inside the octagon.
I could recognize a few submission moves, knew the basic kicks and punches like anyone would, but the rest of it had flown right over my head. Fighting just wasn’t my thing. I was more of a ball man, myself. Give me a basketball, football, baseball, soccer ball— hell, even a tennis ball— and I knew what I was doing. But fighting was foreign territory for me. I felt bad for the thoughts I’d had earlier about Layla, about how she knew nothing about the sports she cheered for, because tonight I was no better.
As the last fight was ending in a knockout, I began to make my way out of my seating area and into a stream of people madly dashing for the door. I knew the parking garage would be mayhem within minutes, and I wondered where Braden and Miranda were. Then I realized I didn’t have to wonder, because I had one of those newfangled communications devices in my pocket. I pulled my cell phone out and texted Braden.
“Where are you?”
Nothing. He probably couldn’t hear the alert on his phone in the noisy arena.
I noticed reporters from the press seating area were all moving in the same direction down a hallway off the main lobby, so I followed. They led me to a large conference room with a hand-written sign on the door that read Press.
Yep, this is my stop.
I hovered for a few minutes outside the press room so that I could at least listen to the questions other reporters— real reporters— were asking the fighters, but I was afraid to go in. I was also afraid Braden was going to leave without me.
“Don’t ditch me,” I texted, belatedly wishing I’d driven myself.
I opened the browser on my phone and googled Michael Kage on a whim. There were a couple of social media profiles, a headshot of some unknown actor, and several unrelated results that made me scratch my head that they’d even shown up in the first place. Apparently, Michael Kage was not a household name in the world of mixed martial arts, and learning that left me inexplicably disappointed. Guess I thought I’d met a celebrity.
I leaned against a wall and studied a couple of fighters who were in my line of sight, looking the worse for wear after having recently beaten someone senseless, or having been beaten senseless themselves. Davi Matos came near, and I just stared.
Like Kage, he had an undeniable presence. He passed so close to me, I felt the air stir, but his eyes never lighted on me. Thank goodness. That guy made me nervous. Up close, his face looked like it had been through a meat grinder. Apparently his opponent had gotten off a few damaging shots before he got submitted.
The two lady reporters who had snubbed me at the beginning of the night stood in the group inside the room. One of them kept yelling questions out of turn, like she thought she was in the movies or something. I rolled my eyes.
I turned my attention back to my cell phone, getting ready to call Braden.
“Learning anything?” said a voice from behind me, and I spun around to come face to face with Michael Kage.
I startled, looking guiltily up at him and shoving my cell phone behind my back before he could see that I’d been researching him. “What are you doing?” I said, for lack of anything better. My heart had sped up again. Something about this guy really had my ticker going wild, like his very presence caused an adrenaline dump in my system.
“Getting ready to go eat. I’m starving. Any nice places around here without a long wait?”
“Lou’s is only a few blocks away. They’ve got a killer cheeseburger, and they’re quick.”
“Cheeseburger.” Kage laughed, showing those rampant dimples. “You’re funny, college boy. I meant something a real man would eat.”