Committed by Alycia Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

row with a camera around her neck. Emmi was there to cheer me on even
though I knew she hated all of this. She was a great support system.
    Sam and I climbed into the
octagon and then they called out my opponent. His name was Jake Sandoval but he
went by Crusher. I hadn’t had a chance to see him
fight, but Sam had, and he said that Crusher was putting it mildly. As usual,
Sam used his smooth words to encourage me .
    Crusher sprang through the door of the octagon and
after preening for the crowd he gave me a look across
the octagon. It wasn’t a friendly look, nor was it an unfriendly one, it was
more like curiosity. I probably had that look myself.
For a few seconds before every bout you looked at the other guy wondering about
him. Then the bell rang and within a few seconds after that you were locked
into merciless combat and trying to knock each other unconscious. It really was
a barbaric sport.
    The girls in the audience seemed to be screaming
louder for Sandoval than they were for me . That rarely
ever happened. I didn’t know if it was his full head
of dark hair or those smoldering brown eyes. Maybe it was the thick, muscular
neck with the veins so fat and pulsating that a vampire could feast for days on
it. Something about him was driving them crazy.
    He turned and preened toward the press box. Sarah
was there again tonight and a guy named Lewis from the Chronicle and Jones from
the Sun. There were others there too, probably from other university papers.
Crusher seemed intent on making friends with them all, as if that would keep me from kicking his pretty ass.
    Sam tapped me on the
shoulder and I turned and held out my hands while he slipped tape around them.
Then at last the referee called us to the center of the ring and I was face to face with the man who would either be cheering
or crying in a matter of minutes.
    We advanced to meet each other and as the bell
sounded Sam clattered out of the cage. We shook hands and both of us
immediately slipped into our fighting personalities.
    Instantly, Crusher was in and out and in again,
landing punches all over me . He landed a left to my cheek and a right to my ribs and when I threw back a jab
he did a fancy duck and dance just in time for me to connect with the heavy
air. He was fucking fast, both in his retreats and his counters. The crowd in the stands was seeing a dazzling show. They were
screaming, mostly his name and I could already feel my
lungs begging for air, and sweat dripping down into my eyes from my hair.
    I had to keep in mind that his blows were too quick. Sam told me all the time that if they were too quick and too neat that they’re not
dangerous. I reminded myself to let him rush on while
he wasted all his energy in the first round. When I finally landed a punch, it was going to be dangerous, that I could guarantee. I fought guys like him before. He was trying to crush me with his speed and I needed to counter by being patient,
and then overwhelming him with my strength.
    Patience was difficult for me because this guy was in and out, over here and over there, punching and then
kicking, and leaping across the octagon like Spiderman from one side of the
cage to the other. I caught a glimpse of Sam’s face.
He was trying to tell me something but I didn’t
understand the signal. It looked like he wanted me to
let him hit me…in the head. I had got into a rhythm
with the guy at last, and although most of my punches still weren’t connecting
with the swift-footed son of a bitch, I wasn’t getting pummeled either.
    Sam was rubbing his knuckles. That was what he was
trying to tell me . He wanted me to let him hit me in the head, right in the back of my skull where it was as
hard as a rock. That would hurt his knuckles more than it did me and maybe slow him down a bit. With a grimace and a quick
duck and a rise, I connected my head with his fist. It
hurt like a bitch but I glanced at Sandoval and I knew
it hurt him more.
    As the clock ticked, I had
only