Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (25 page)

“Oh yeah.”

He was indeed, and we fed Willie to the fishes beyond the Bay. It was a good day. For the first time since it happened, the picture of those two neighbor kids’ bloody bodies, didn’t pop into my head when I passed their house.

* * *

‘Rique met me at the car with Earl following closely behind. They were in plain clothes of course, maintaining the pretense they were doing a security job. “John? How the hell are you feelin’, brother?”

Okay, this was new. I looked over at Tommy, but he shrugged, looking like he had no clue what this unexpected meeting was about with our Oakland police brothers. “I’m fine. What the hell has your panties in a bunch, ‘Rique? This isn’t like you and Earl doing a faceoff before a fight. What’s the problem?”

We were parked a long way from the warehouse, so I knew we must have a great crowd on hand. Tommy and I liked the outskirts arrival as in the old days. We were only a block and a half away, but it set me on edge that our security detail would meet us at the car. I could tell Tommy felt the same way.

“Nothin’,” ‘Rique replied. “We were wondering why so much money is on The Assassin, considering he’s never fought a UFC fight. Right now, the odds are even, which seems strange to us. I admit Earl and I threw down some serious money when the odds evened up. We were wondering if there’s something we don’t know about.”

Damn. Even odds on an unknown like Marko, even with his backstreet record, did not compute. I could tell Tommy felt the same way. “I don’t know of anything. I don’t plan on losing, but anything can happen. Did you two hear I was throwing the fight from someone?”

“No, John,” Earl answered. “We thought maybe you were sick, injured, or something.”

“This is weird,” Tommy agreed. “I figured John to be at least a three to one favorite. We’ll ask Alexi when we get in there. Maybe he knows. John’s ready though, so I like your chances to make some money, guys.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” ‘Rique said with obvious relief. “C’mon with us. Your crew’s already inside. They didn’t know what the story with the odds was either. We’ll walk you two in.”

“Protecting your investment, huh?”

“That’s right, brother,” Earl said, leading the way with ‘Rique on our six.

The line wound out the building, and around the corner. The old warehouse only received a facelift inside. The outer graffiti covered ramshackle appearance kept its flavor of desperation. A loud murmur built as we passed our soon to be audience with the usual catcalls, some supportive, some not. It used to be no one would even recognize me on fight nights. I waved amiably at the big mouths. With the newly remodeled inside, complete with UFC type cage and seating, we didn’t have to pay as close attention to the detractors as in the old days when they’d be standing around our blood stained matting. It was still a slight shock to see the remodeled inside. The admissions crew waved us inside while blocking off the line for a moment. A guy dressed in a suit with a beautiful young blonde on his arm, wearing one of those short peek-a-boo dresses, added some humor to our entry.

“They ought to make you buy a ticket, Harding!” His pronouncement drew laughs, even from me.

I stopped to look over at him. I didn’t recognize either the suit or his date. “Did I cost you some money or something?”

“Yeah, but tonight, I’m getting it back, loser.”

I grinned and nodded before continuing inside. “Damn, Tommy, I’m not getting any respect tonight. Hey Jess, did you hear the news about me losing the fight?”

Jesse Brown patted my shoulder in commiseration as Earl and ‘Rique veered off with a wave. “Yeah, brother… even odds. We thought maybe you were in a car wreck on the way over. Another few minutes and you’ll be the underdog in the fight.”

Alexi Fiialkov waited by the cage with our referee, Jack Korlos. We all shook hands.

“You have heard about the odds, John?”

“We sure did, Alexi. How’d that happen?”

“I have no idea at the moment.” Fiialkov had his game face on, so I figured he was in the dark about it too. “I will probably not find out why until after the fight ends, hopefully in our favor.”

“That’s my plan.” Korlos led us into the cage, where Dev and Jafar waited in our part of the Octagon. Tommy checked our equipment bag while I shed my sweat-suit, handing it to Jafar. My hands were taped already, so Dev helped me with my gloves while Jess worked over my face with salve.

“I wish this was a five rounder instead of under the old rules,” Tommy said. “We can’t do shit for you.”

I shrugged. We were getting spoiled anyway with the UFC rules. Tonight we go until one of us can’t go on. “I guess I better take care of business then.”

The guys left the cage, and I turned to face The Assassin. Marko looked confident, but he didn’t look amped or anything. He’s a big, bad looking dude, but so am I. In the audience behind him I spotted Denny and my crew sitting apart halfway up the seats. Their main purpose was to be on the lookout for ‘The Ghost’. We had no idea what he looked like, but they were busy checking the audience for anyone interesting, sending pictures to Laredo stationed at our central computer station at Pain Central. I erased their part from mine, allowing the monster I chain inside to emerge, the thing I keep hidden from Al and Lora. They had only seen glimpses of him.

I slowly stretched, working my arms and grinning. I remembered the first time I unleashed it. Hiding because I knew my old man would be arriving soon, I could only wait to find out if he was drunk enough to pass out, or ready for another of his son reeducation beat downs. Dad found me, and the beast within. It’s possible I beat him to death. I don’t know, because I didn’t care. I left him where he lay. Once unlocked, the beast never left me fully again. I stared across at Marko. He grinned back at me. We shared the monster inside for a second while Jack went to each of us for final checks, Marko and I remained silent through Jack’s inspection with warnings of what would happen if we didn’t follow his order to stop. We understand, but sometimes the monster doesn’t.

Jack stepped away, shouting his last remark to be heard over the rising crowd noise. “Nod if you’re ready!”

We nodded, never taking our eyes off of each other. Marko flew at me with a flurry of jabs and combinations. He had been measured when I took his blow at Tommy, and found wanting, so I didn’t give his power much respect. I shot a right hook under his rib cage when I timed his left jabs correctly. Oh baby, did that one make him see the light. I followed the right hook with my deadly behind the knee slap kick that buckled him, but then I found out suddenly why Marko the Assassin charged in to shoot a bunch of jabs at me. My eyes felt like someone had thrown acid into my face. I side kicked the bastard onto his back, and ran over to where my crew were grabbing the cage links in surprise at my movement.

I have no idea what they thought. Their outline beyond the cage was blurring to slurred amber pieces of light as the fire fury in my eyes heated to my pain threshold. When you have a monster inside, it reacts to pain, bad times, threats, and imminent death or dismemberment in ways not imaginable for common folk. The monster screams, tearing the inside of its cage apart, insane with a vengeance beyond hurt. Only a last reasoning plot, and the burning pit of fire behind my eyeballs corralled the beast for a momentary hope of relief until I could kill the son-of-a-bitch.

“My eyes! Throw water in my face hard!”

Tommy never hesitated. He threw his own water in my face. Jafar followed suit, throwing his bottled water into my eyes. By then, Dev and Jesse had confiscated water bottles from a few of the patrons, yanking them out of their hands, and returning to dose me in the face through the cage links. The pain eased slightly, but I knew I didn’t have much time.

“Duck, John!” Tommy’s order was followed instantly with compliance.

A right hand smash sailed over my head to hit into the chain links. I hit the mat, rolled to the right and onto my feet, blinking water, and whatever the hell shit it was on Marko’s gloves with passion. I resisted the urge to blot at them with my own hands, knowing in spite of the pain, any agitation of the chemical bath pounded into the area around my eyes would be multiplied. I let out the monster with a roar, turning to hit what was close, another right under the ribcage that shut off further attack for a moment.

I heard Marko suck wind. I pounded the blur in front of my blinking eyes until Marko wisely got on his bicycle. Yeah, my corner was giving Jack hell about Marko’s gloves, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Provable fouls screw the betting into the tank, but the match has to end first with me letting Jack know I couldn’t go on. That ain’t happenin’ ever. The crowd screamed their approval. They didn’t know what was happening, but they knew I had the short end of the stick. The background noise made it impossible to depend on my ears.

The Bulgarian Assassin came in for more jabs to give my eyes another dose. I ducked into his midsection, took an elbow to the top of my head I could tell split the scalp. Hell, I couldn’t see anyway, so the blood wouldn’t be a problem. I used my momentum, picked him up, and slammed him into the cage. We hit so hard because of my misjudgment we both bounced off, separating slightly as we hit down. I recovered first, shifting into a full mount position on the mat over Marko, raining hell down on him with hammer fists until the damn stuff burning my eyes forced me to stagger where the guys were prepared. They screamed at me so I could follow the sound.

“Open your eyes, John,” Tommy ordered, as I clunked into the cage with my forehead.

Pure will power helped me get them open as I received streams directly in the eyes from squirt bottles they rounded up for me. We only had seconds. It turned out, Marko could recover fast too.

“Drop John!”

I instantly did as Jess warned. Marko’s foot hit into the cage where my head would have been. I rolled left, but Marko kept balance after the kick, and dropped with an elbow smash to my face. Only slightly off target, it tore skin in front of my ear, and gave me a terrific star vista with exploding suns. He didn’t pull the arm back quickly enough though. I nearly ended the fight with an arm-lock, but missed it by a split second. Marko leaped away, scuttling to his feet before I could try a mount again. Rage is such a weak word to describe my pain filled mind. I decided to trade some agony with a different tactic.

Marko approached with care, watching my blinking eyes, as I bobbed and weaved more than I’d ever done in a fight. I lanced out with my own jabs. When I missed my target, I heard him grunt approvingly. He wouldn’t be so happy if my tactic worked. Marko peppered my face with jabs and crosses, which I absorbed in order to entice a full power hook from him. When his right hand reached into my face to measure me while spreading its poison cheer, I knew the left hook was on its way. The moment it began to mash into my head, I spun as if blindly knife-handing the pole while in the water. The spinning slash I launched caught Marko completely off balance as he finished the hook. My knife-hand strike missed the knee I intended for my target, but it hit Marko’s thigh so hard he screamed in pain while falling to the mat, gripping his thigh. Before the poison forced me to close my eyes on the blur, I saw him using rolling and kicking to get against the cage for support. By then my eyeballs were burning through the back of my pounding head while the crowd roar rattled the old warehouse sheet metal.

My guys directed me with sound again, as I moved drunkenly toward them. Forehead kissed cage with squirting relief bombarding my face while I willed my eyes open to a narrow squint. The water could only dilute the pain, but it would help me finish that asshole Marko off. If I didn’t have a mouthpiece in, I would have already ground the tops of my teeth into dust.

“It may be over, Hard Case,” Dev shouted approvingly. “Jack’s asking Marko if he can go on.”

“Fuck that! I’ll kill that cocksucker!” I blinked, squinting again at my opponent’s position. He regained his feet, using the cage. His hands worked his injured thigh with hard strokes, kneading at the strike area worriedly.

“We need to get your eyes fixed, dummy!” Tommy wasted his time talking at the monster. “We don’t know what the hell he put on his gloves! Let him quit, and you can get him later!”

I kept my monster mouth shut, gritting my teeth while ordering my eyes open further with small success for another dousing. I couldn’t do shit if Marko quit. I wouldn’t be able to avoid the sapping I’d get from Jack. If Marko recovered enough to try me again, then game on. I’d have to take a real bad eye attack this time to end The Assassin for all time. The monster seethed inside, rattling my brain with blood rage.

“Damn it!” Tommy tipped me off Marko decided to keep hoping he could blind me to the point I would be ripe for plucking.

“He’s coming, John,” Jess said, as the amped crowd heralded the decision with wall to wall noise.

“But slowly,” Dev added, giving Jafar time to keep double bottle squirting my face. “Your eyes are so swollen, can you even see to go on?”

“Watch me.” The monster turned to plod toward Marko, all semblance of anything but a killing strike gone from the equation.

As Dev had warned, the reduced opening I was capable of limited anything but an amber blur with black gloves approaching with a limp. I had no peripheral vision. While I could see the blur, I launched a sidekick on target enough even partially blocked to jettison Marko to his back. I couldn’t chance following it, because I very likely would miss my target completely. The crowd loved it though by the noise. Marko… not so much. I hoped he was saying his prayers.