Read Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance) Online
Authors: Celia Loren
I manage to stay in my seat for the rest of the day's
fights, though I have to cover my eyes for much of Logan's action in the cage.
Miraculously, he wins every one. And so does Austen.
I watch Logan ignore the press as he stalks toward the
locker rooms after his last fight. Minutes later, Austen walks over, giving the
cameras his winning smile and charming the hell out of everyone. I make my way
to my car as Maya goes to meet up with Mike. Even if I could find Logan now, I
don't want to do anything to break his focus.
Everyone in the arena is buzzing about his performance
today, and about the possibility of the Riggens brothers facing each other in
the finals. Not every discussion I overhear is about their fighting prowess,
though. I walk by more than one debate over which one is hotter, the blonde one
or the darker one
"He looks like he knows how to treat a woman, like
George Clooney."
"Yeah, but I like brown haired guys better. Plus, you
know that one would just throw you down on a bed and—"
This is getting too weird. I quicken my step and sink with relief
into my car. I beat most of the traffic leaving the parking lot and step on the
gas on the way home. I actually wish I were working this weekend. I got the
time off so I could go pursue Logan, but I didn't realize I'd just end up
watching him helplessly from the stands.
I walk tiredly up to my bedroom. I can't even imagine how
Logan must be feeling right now. Four fights in one day, and one, or maybe two,
tomorrow. I take my phone out of my purse and stare at it. I want to text him
so much. I want to tell him I was there today, and that he was amazing, and
that I'm proud to even know him. That he's brave and he inspires me.
Tears begin to fall down my cheeks as I put my phone away. I
don't want to disturb him. I've done enough harm to him without distracting him
the night before what could be the biggest fight of his life.
I thought seeing him today would make me feel better, but
it's only made the ache in my chest more acute. Being by myself for the last
month, finding a new job, and working on my college application has felt
freeing. But as I continue to find myself, and figure out what I really want,
it only becomes clearer how strong my feelings are for him.
I sit down on my bed and look at the tournament bracket. I
wrote down the winner of each fight on it so I could keep track of whom Logan
would be fighting. Let's see…Andrei Krusov. I flip to his bio. Russian, but
trained in Japan by the foremost Tae Kwon Do expert in the country. Six foot
six inches, two hundred and five pounds. Now I remember him. The tall one,
striking from so far away that the other fighters couldn't penetrate his guard.
I get up and walk quickly down the hall to take a shower.
Anything to get my mind off Logan getting hit by this Russian giant. I stop as
I see the closed door of Logan's bedroom. It's been like that for the whole
month since he left, and I haven't gone in. I don't know why I walk toward it
now, but I just want to feel close to him somehow.
His smell hits me as I walk in. Oaky, with a hint of sweat.
I look at the mussed sheets on the bed and shiver as I remember the way he
touched me, how he felt inside me. I walk over and reposition the pillows, then
pull the sheets up and fold them over just so before pulling the comforter over
them.
I start as I hear the sound of voices downstairs, and
quietly leave Logan's room, closing the door behind me. My stomach rumbles, and
I realize I haven’t had anything else to eat today besides that one pretzel and
copious amounts of soda, so I head downstairs without my shower.
As I walk in the kitchen, I see Austen and Duke hunched over
the breakfast table in deep discussion over a pile of papers. My mom's throwing
Tupperware into the freezer and glances over to me with a smile.
"Big day," she remarks.
"Did you know Logan would be there today?" I hear
from behind me, and turn around to see Duke frowning at me.
"Dad," Austen sighs.
"Excuse me?" I ask, taken aback.
"Did you know he'd be there? You should have told
us."
"I haven't talked to him," I reply through
clenched teeth as I feel a surge of anger rise through me. "But even if I
had, I don't see how I would owe you that information."
"How long was he training in Muay Thai for?"
"Are you seriously trying to grill me for information?
I'm not a spy or something."
"You live under my roof, and Team Apex pays for this
roof. You owe it to me to tell me what you know."
"Duke…" my mom murmurs. I glance back at her and
see that's the extent of her argument.
"I would have thought you'd be proud of him. Austen's
not your only son, you know. Logan won today, too, without a trainer, without a
team, and without you even acknowledging him. You ignored him, when all he
wanted was your support. He's not your ex-wife, no matter how much he looks
like her."
I step back, alarmed, as I see all the muscles in Duke's
neck clench in anger. I recognize that look. My father used to get it.
But Duke takes a deep breath and turns back toward the
papers, drawing one toward him. I catch Austen's eye and he give me a little
nod. Of approval? I'm not sure. I turn around and see my mom frozen by the
sink.
"I'm gonna go out for dinner," I murmur to her. I
quickly run upstairs and grab my purse, then leave through the front door so I
don't have to reenter the kitchen. I'm just pressing the code into the garage when
I see Austen come out of the front door and head towards me.
He chuckles and shakes his head as he nears me. "I've
never heard anyone talk to Big Rig like that."
"Yeah, well…" I trail off grumpily. "Look,
can I ask you something? This guy Krusov that Logan's fighting tomorrow…I was
there today, and I saw him fight. He's taller, heavier…" I chew the inside
of my lip and sigh. "You think Logan has a shot?"
"Krusov's a force," Austen replies seriously.
"He was the one we were prepping for as my main competition."
"Well, if Logan loses, you'll be up against him,"
I point out.
"Bottom line: he's got massive leg kicks, his reach is
several inches longer even than mine, and his ground game is just as strong as
his striking."
"That doesn't sound good."
"No, it doesn't," he says regretfully, turning
around to head back into the house.
"Austen," I call, stopping him. "What if
Logan wins, though?"
He grins, the competitive gleam creeping back into his eyes.
"Then I'll fight Logan in the finals. And I'll kick his ass, brother or
not."
The press outside the Pepsi Center the next morning has
tripled. I shuffle by quietly, marveling at how strange it is to hear the
reporters talking about Austen and Logan as though they're celebrities. I grab a
bottle of water from concessions and head back toward the same seating tier
where Maya and I watched from yesterday. She's already in her seat, having
arrived earlier with Mike.
"You think you'll be able to watch more or less
today?" she asks as I sit down.
"Don't know…This guy Krusov that Logan's fighting
sounds scary."
"Mike told me he once sent a guy to the hospital with a
heel kick to the head," she comments, her face still in the program. I
gape at her for a moment. "Oh! Sorry, that's not helpful," she
realizes. "The guy was fine eventually," she offers.
"Who's Austen fighting?"
"Sam Nordahl. National champion wrestler in
college." The lights dim and the music crescendos before fading out to the
announcer's voice.
"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the first semifinal
match of the American Fighting Federation's Light Heavyweight Domination
Tournament. Put your hands together for our first fighter of the day, Austen
'Golden' Riggens!"
The crowd around us leaps to its feet as I turn to Maya,
"Golden? Where'd they come up with that?"
"Well, he does sort of have that Greek god thing going
on," she reasons. I watch as Austen is surrounded by Team Apex. They reach
their arms around each other's shoulders as Duke and Austen bow their heads
together in the middle. As Nordahl is introduced, I can hear that the applause
isn't quite as warm. All of Austen's new fans could be due to his first
lightning fast takedown yesterday, but I'm sure his good looks and charm have
something to do with it, too.
The two men touch gloves and the fight is underway. I look
up at the Jumbotron to see a close up of Austen's face. His left eyebrow looks
slightly swollen, but otherwise he escaped from yesterday relatively unscathed,
though I'm sure his muscles are tired. Not that you could tell from the light
way he's moving on his feet.
"Why's he jumping away like that?" Maya leans over
and asks me while keeping her gaze trained on the fight.
"Nordahl's trying to take the fight to the ground where
he'll have the advantage because he's a champion wrestler. Austen's strength is
striking, so he wants to stay standing up." Just as I finish speaking,
Nordahl dives at Austen's waist and drives him down. The crowd gasps as Austen
brings his hands to his face to protect himself while Nordahl gains the top
position. I close my eyes. "I hate this. The ground and pound."
"Why doesn't the ref stop it?" Maya asks as
Nordahl punches Austen's head, his fists trying to find an opening between
Austen's arms to make direct contact with his skull.
"Austen's still defending himself," I reply,
opening up one eye to check. "He—Yes!" I exclaim as Austen's legs
shoot out. Nordahl let himself relax and Austen took full advantage, spinning
his body around as he grabbed Nordahl's arm and pulled him into a Kimura. Nordahl
grimaces and Austen tightens his grip. Just as it looks like he's about to tap
out, the bell sounds.
"This is very stressful," Maya complains. "I
wish we were old enough to drink, because I bet a beer would feel great right
now."
As Austen confers with Duke and Raul, the crowd begins to
murmur about a possible upset. Nordahl is the first person to get Austen to
give up his guard, and everyone's wondering if this wrestling wonder could be
Golden's first serious challenger.
The second and third rounds are more of the same back and
forth between the two fighters. Thankfully, this tournament is keeping the
fights to three rounds each because the fights are placed so closely together.
First Austen gains an advantage, then Nordahl. As the seconds tick down in
round three, it looks like the decision will go to the judges. But with twenty
seconds left, Austen lands a jab cross combination that sends the exhausted
Nordahl reeling back two steps. I watch Austen summon every ounce of energy he
has left and drive a powerful uppercut into Nordahl's chin.
The crowd roars as Nordahl falls backward. The ref leaps
forward and bends over him, then gestures his arms sideways: Nordahl's out.
Austen yells triumphantly, then leaps onto the side of the cage, balancing
himself with toeholds in the chain links. Everyone in the arena jumps to their
feet with him, and I shake my head with a begrudging smile as Austen plays to
his fans.
Today, unlike yesterday, the fighters aren't rushed off so
that the next fight can begin. The ringside announcers interview both Nordahl
and Austen, their faces broadcast on the Jumbotron above us. Nordahl is up and
recovered, but doesn't remember the end of the fight. He watches the replay in
disbelief, shaking his head at Austen's quickness. When they're finally
shepherded out of the ring, the floor is mopped and dried to prepare for Krusov
and Logan.
"You alright?" Maya asks as my leg bounces up and
down uncontrollably.
"I don't know if I can watch," I murmur. The
lights dim again and a spotlight illuminates the path from the locker rooms.
Krusov stalks in with his team flanking him. He's greeted by some cheers, but I
also hear booing mixed in. After he steps into the cage, the lights refocus and
Logan is announced. To my surprise, his solo entrance is greeted by the most
enthusiastic crowd response yet. He hasn't done a single interview, but he
seems to have more fans even than Austen. I turn to Maya questioningly.
She smiles. "The only thing people like more than a
hero is an underdog."
I grin momentarily, but wince as I see Logan's face close up
as the cameras zoom in. One of his eyes is black and the eyebrow above it is
laced with stitches from where it was split open during his last fight
yesterday. Even a light hit will open it back up again, and the blood from it
would obscure his vision.
I lean forward and put my face in my palms as the ref calls
the two fighters together. I hear more booing from the crowd and peer through
my fingers.
"Krusov wouldn't touch gloves," Maya reports.
"Rude." I cover my eyes up again, wishing I could also block out the
sound of the play-by-play. I hear the bell and my whole body tenses up. Maya
gasps and I jerk upright.
"What? Is Logan OK?"
"Hell yes," she replies as my eyes dart around the
cage, expecting blood spatter at the least. "Logan's making Krusov look so
slow." I watch as Krusov pursues Logan around the cage while Logan dances
back. "Logan's just dodging everything. He hasn't even thrown anything
himself yet." I look up to the Jumbotron. I can see sweat dripping down
Krusov's face. Logan's is still dry, if battered-looking.
"Maybe he's trying to tire him out. Logan's
conditioning is so good that—" Logan's leg flies out and catches Krusov
hard on the thigh. "Yes!" I scream out as the crowd roars its
approval of this first contact. Krusov stumbles back but Logan doesn't push his
luck. He waits for Krusov to launch himself forward again, then nails him again
with a kick to the side. He doesn't throw any punches, not wanting to get close
to this giant man.
Krusov can't touch him. Logan fights with renewed energy,
dodging a punch and then springing back almost impossibly quickly. He doesn't
forecast a single movement. Each kick seems to come out of nowhere and Krusov
can't block them.
As the seconds tick down in the first round, the crowd leaps
to its feet and I jump to mine, carried away with excitement by Logan's bravura
performance. At five seconds, Logan lands a final kick, raising another welt on
Krusov's now beat-up legs. The bell dings and I pump my fists in the air.
Logan takes a deep breath, lowers his hands, and turns
around to his corner for the break. With a yell of anger, Krusov picks up his
foot and brings it down on the side of Logan's knee.