Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) Page 2

  Seeming to sense he was being watched, his head swiveled around and his gaze seized hers.

  “Oh, shit!” Lainie’s fingers clamped around Allie’s arm. “He’s totally looking at us!”

  Allie swallowed around a lump in her throat.

  The merc’s eyes narrowed, bled almost to black under the dimming lights. A shiver sliced down her spine and sucked the air from her lungs, leaving her a quivering lump. Whatever was going on behind those eyes scared the bajeezus out of her.

  Thankfully, the announcer, shouting for everyone to get seated so the fighters could weigh in, snapped her out of her trance.

  “Come on, Allie. We’ve got to get a good seat.” Lainie shook her arm.

  Allie let herself be pulled away, feeling as if her heart would crash through her ribs.

  Chapter three

  They managed to get seats ringside; probably thanks to Lainie’s mile of cleavage on display. The crew showed up right as the weigh-ins were ending.

  “Hi, Allie,” Jennifer shouted as she squeezed past her, careful not to spill the contents of her red solo cup.

  Jennifer was tall, on the verge of lanky, with dark blonde, shoulder-length hair and even darker eyes hidden behind a pair of stylish glasses. She was kind, soft spoken, and shy; the perfect back up to Lainie’s over-the-top nature. Lainie tended to fight with most other red personalities.

  “Hey . . . Jennifer?” Allie’s eyebrows arched and she looked up at the guy who was definitely not the boyfriend, holding her hand as he and another guy trailed after.

  She followed Allie’s line of sight down to her linked fingers and her cheeks flushed. She gave an awkward laugh as they all sat down. “I guess I have some explaining to do, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah!” Lainie leaned over Allie, looking incredulous.

  Jennifer cringed. “Cole and I broke up.”

  “What! Why?” Blue eyes widened. If Lainie leaned over any further her boobs were going to spill out all over Allie’s lap. As it was, Allie had a way-to-intimate view down to Lainie’s belly button.

  “Well,” Jennifer started, “I kinda caught him in bed with Lindsie Brown and a goat.”

  “A goat?” Allie and Lainie chimed together.

  Jennifer cringed again. “Well, maybe not a goat. It might have been just Lindsie. . . but I hear that’s the rumor that will be floating around soon.” She dropped her eyes as her mouth pursed.

  “Ouch, Jennifer. Way to go! Lindsie is such a horse-faced bitch.” Lainie had a personal vendetta with Lindsie . . . as did about three-fourths of the rest of the female population.

  Allie was shocked. She didn’t think Jennifer had it in her to be on the side of vengeance. She and Cole had been together forever.

  “Hey, Lainie,” Allie said. “Why don’t I trade you places?” Lainie was practically crawling into Allie’s lap at this point.

  Lainie looked down, seeming to notice for the first time that she’d invaded enough of Allie’s personal bubble she could have planted a flag. They swapped places and Allie sighed in relief. Much better.

  “So,” Jennifer continued. “This is my stand-in date, Ben. And this is his best friend, Gabe.”

  Ben with his highlighted, pin cushion hair, was tall, on the verge of lanky, with all the impeccable grooming of a hardcore metrosexual. By the way he beamed back at Jennifer, you could tell he had it bad for her. When he caught Allie’s knowing look his face flushed and he quickly shook her hand before moving on to Lainie. “Nice to meet you guys.”

  The friend, Gabe, waved from the other side of Ben. “Hey.”

  Allie sat back, happy to let Lainie and Jennifer discuss. At least until she felt an arm slither around her shoulder.

  “Hey beautiful.” Jason’s voice wedged a lump of puke in the back of her throat.

  “Jason.” Her facial muscles tightened as she did her best to hide her revulsion behind a smile. Honestly, she did not get the appeal that had Lainie hypnotized.

  “How’s it goin’?” His arm restricted and she was forced down into his armpit. “Exciting, huh? Lainie told me you’ve never even seen a fight, on TV or anything.”

  “It’s pretty, uh, different,” Allie agreed. Her eyes swept the arena as her fingers attempted to dislodge her body from Jason’s python grip.

  Allie winced when Lainie stiffened beside her, eyes growing wide as she took in Jason’s arm around Allie’s shoulders. Both girls shared a silent moment of understanding before Lainie slapped a dose of nonchalance over her hurt expression and threw herself back into the conversation with Jennifer—maybe a little too enthusiastically. Allie knew Lainie had a complicated on-again, off-again relationship with Jason; based primarily on lust. Mostly they tended to hook up whenever they were both between steadies and horny. Still, Allie knew it bothered Lainie to see Jason give attention to other girls. She had the suspicion Lainie was a lot more involved with Jason than their casual relationship would allot. Though, Lainie would die before she’d ever admit to it.

  Finally freeing herself from Jason’s entanglement, Allie worked on staying that way by means of diversion. “MMA’s a violent sport.” She pointed to the blood stained mat.

  Jason’s grey-blue eyes lightened. “Oh, yeah it is. But don’t worry; I’ll be right here . . . in case you’ve got any questions, or you get scared.”

  Barf.

  He was looking at her like an adolescent puppy, ready to launch himself on her leg at any second and go to town. She sighed.

  This was going to be a long night.

  Music rose to the decibel of a fighter jet, pounded over the floors, and the announcer’s voice came over the speaker system to announce the beginning of the first featherweight bout.

  Tyson, who was sitting on the other side of Jason, nailed him hard in the gut with an elbow. “Shut up, dude. Fight’s on.”

  Jason squeezed Allie’s thigh—barf again—before he beat his hands together. “Wooo!” he shouted. “Let’s get this shit started!”

  Allie didn’t know what exactly she’d been expecting to see, but the first fight blew away any preconceptions in a mad hurry.

  The fighters were freaking nuts!

  She couldn’t believe how fast they were, jumping around; testing each other with punches and kicks to the shins. The smack! of flesh against flesh curdled her stomach as she watched red welts bloom over each of the fighter’s bodies.

  In a flash one guy, who was wearing green shorts, launched at the other one’s head and the fight tumbled to the ground. The two grappled for control, bucking, legs and arms kicking, each man’s body twisting around the other in the search for an opening. Green shorts somehow ended up sitting on top, feet hooking into the other guy’s waist . . . and the fight turned into a blood bath. Green short’s fists swung like a pendulum over the other one’s face and splattered blood all over the mat, while the other guy covered his ears and head the best he could. Just when Allie couldn’t stand to watch any more the ref intervened, pulling green shorts off and calling the match. Green shorts shot up and roared his victory; bloody fists raised high as he made a circuit around the octagon.

  When Jason turned to her his smile wilted a little. “Man, Allie. You okay? Lookin’ a little green.”

  Allie nodded and lied, “I’m fine.”

  This is barbaric, she thought.

  And yet . . . she could see the technique beneath all that brutality—by the way the fighters moved and held themselves—prove it to be a kind of gladiatorial art form. In a sense.

  Two more fights ensued, and as the weight class increased, the fighter’s moves slowed down, became more deliberate, and the impact got harder. Allie clenched her teeth at times to keep from crying out. Some of the hits landed hard. How did these guys ignore the pain and keep at it?

  After the third fight finished Allie’s lungs were raw from lack of air. How long had she been holding her breath?

  The lights dimmed and the announcer’s disembodied voice layered back over the crowd. The main fight of the evenin
g was announced and Allie watched in fascination when the merc came into the octagon.

  He was silent and poised, all latent muscle, bunched and ready to spring. The emptiness in his eyes sent a chill down Allie’s spine. Why did that gaze freak her out so much?

  He just stood there while the other fighter ran the perimeter of the cage, howling at the crowd to rile up applause or boos.

  When the announcer read off the merc’s stats, Jason cupped his hands around his mouth and booed. He turned to Allie and the corner of his mouth pulled up. “This guy thinks he’s hot shit. Lame-ass fighter, if you ask me. Goes in and knocks the other guy out.” The smirk deepened. “Probably has to 'cause he don’t got no ground game.”

  Jason had already drained his fifth beer—an expensive luxury for a college student to buy on tap here. His words strung together on a slur while his fingers ran through Allie’s hair, making the pieces fall into her face. She glowered at him, but he was nothing but a blank wall of glossy eyes and pasty skin. He swiveled around and elbowed Tyson. “This guy’s such a puss.” Hands cupped around his mouth again. “Hear that, merc? Puss-aaaay! Don’t got no ground game!”

  Cold, mossy eyes flashed in Allie’s direction and her heart sputtered in her chest. “Shut up, Jason.” She turned to him, hands resting lightly on his forearm. “I think he heard you.”

  Jason’s eyes dropped to Allie’s hand and he guffawed, fingers clamping over hers like a vice. “No worries, baby doll. This guy won’t hurt you. Not with the J-dawg here to take care of shit.”

  Allie’s stomach turned. Trapped again by Jason’s damn wandering hands. When she couldn’t lose his grip from around her fingers, she resigned to sit in silent annoyance and endure it.

  Jason was making chicken noises now, still heckling the merc. “Puss, puss, puss-aaay! Here puss-aaay!”

  Ah, geeze! She shielded the side of her face with the edge of her hand and prayed to somehow become invisible to the growing crowd of curious eyes.

  Please just get this over with so I can escape!

  The fight began and both men stalked toward each other in the ring. The merc stood still, waiting, while the other fighter—a ha-uuuge guy in red shorts with tattoos that completely wrapped around his body up to his bald head—swerved around him, jumping lightly on the balls of his feet. Growing more confident when the merc didn’t do anything but stand there, red shorts went in with a jab. The merc’s head easily dodged the hit before his own fist crashed into red short’s jaw. Red shorts staggered back and dropped to his knee and the merc was instantly on him, twisting them both into a pretzel. The merc's legs flexed around red short's arm at the shoulder, while he pulled, hyperextending the elbow to the point that it was bending in the wrong direction.

  Tap out, Allie pleaded silently, breath held.

  Nausea washed over her. The way the merc had submitted his opponent was terrifyingly clinical. A gasp finally slid from her lips when the merc’s cold, calculating gaze briefly settled on her and then switched over to Jason. There was a sudden, sickening snap! and red shorts howled in pain.

  “Oh, shit! He just broke that dude’s arm.” Jason sloshed beer into Allie’s lap as he stood to cheer.

  The room spun, too hot for her to draw breath and her feet were suddenly pushing her down the isle.

  Lainie started to stand, but Allie stopped her. “I just need to use the bathroom.”

  “Okay,” Lainie’s eyes ran over her face and narrowed. “You sure you’re alright?”

  “I’m fine. Just need to pee.” With a forced smile Allie hurried down the aisle as the crowd roared with bloodlust behind her.

  Chapter four

  The dingy bathrooms were backlogged with a mammoth line of women. Allie sighed and her eyes cut to the open exit that sat just to the side. Yellow, hazy light drifted in through clouds of cigarette smoke from the alleyway.

  “Hey.” A bleach-blonde woman in a leopard print mini gouged Allie in the shoulder with an inch-long fake fingernail. “You in line, or what?”

  Allie slid toward the exit. “Nope.”

  Maybe if she just stood in the doorway for a minute she could settle her nerves. Why had the merc’s brutality effected her so much? The sight of coiling muscles, sweat-slick skin, and that empty gaze . . . he was a machine, put together from human pieces, capable of delivering destruction in a flash. Those eyes. Those cold, green eyes had settled on her. That was what had her heart pounding. Those seconds they focused on her had felt like she had been looking the Grim Reaper in the face. She’d also had such a strange sense of déjà vu, though, looking back at him. Call it fate, kismet . . . destiny, maybe. Whatever it was, Allie had a feeling in the pit of her stomach she wouldn’t walk away tonight unaffected.

  She stepped to the side, out of line right as a trio of ladies shoved past her. One of their stilettos caught around Allie’s ankle and she was sent tumbling out the exit door, catching herself on the sticky, metal frame seconds before she would have been sprawled out on her butt in the dark.

  “Oh, geeze,” she huffed, hair coming free from its pins and spilling over her face. How humiliating was this? The wash of gasoline-and-cigarette-stained air swept over her as she blew a lock out of her eyes. The women who had tripped her were blocking the exit. Damn it all. She glared, but had a feeling asking them to move so she could get back inside would result in a set of black eyes for herself. Not a fan of pain or confrontation, she hurried for the front of the building, figuring she could clear her head by the time she made it around to the entrance.

  Her feet stopped dead, her stomach dropped to her toes.

  Three sets of hard eyes narrowed in on her from the shadow of a rusting garbage bin. “Hey, bitch, you want some of this?” One of the guys grabbed his crotch.

  Panic rising, Allie spun on her heel, ready to charge back inside, cranky women notwithstanding, while her fingers fumbled in her purse for her pepper spray.

  Shit! It’s in here somewhere.

  She could have wept when she touched the cold, metal cylinder . . . just as two heavy hands settled over her shoulders. A dirty hand clamped over her nose and mouth. Her lungs burned to pull in air while her fingers dug at the hand, and her feet kicked out. Teeth sank into the dirty fingers until blood tinged her tongue.

  “Goddamnit!” She was thrown to the ground.

  She quickly rolled to her back and pointed the shaking can up.

  “Don’t even think about it.” A rough hand smacked the pepper spray out of her grip.

  “You wanna try that again, bitch?” He stepped forward, blood welling where Allie had bit him, and hit her hard across the bridge of her nose. As her head slammed against the asphalt she thought there was no way this could be happening to her. She couldn’t get raped in some dark alley by a bunch of assholes. No way. This could not be real. She scanned the alley with wild eyes, looking for help, but the place was a ghost town. The three men circled around her and she felt her vision begin to burn with tears.

  “Here’s how it’s gonna’ happen.” Charcoal eyes met hers. “We gonna play a game. You be real sweet to my friends here, and then me, and if you’re nice, I won’t kill you.”

  Allie kicked out, making contact with one of the men’s shins. When he hunched over, she took the opportunity to scramble past him. Hands wrapped around her ankle and she was jerked back into the circle, her knees grating over rocks and dirt.

  “Stupid bitch!” A fist met solidly with her cheek bone, white lights exploded behind her eyes. Everything went fuzzy, warmth trickled down her chin. One of them picked her up and tossed her into the wall where she slumped, boneless, to the ground. Shaking hands clawed the dirty asphalt, pulled herself to her knees. Her head snapped back when someone yanked her up by her hair. She kicked and screamed, clawed at the roots of her hair, desperate to free herself before they got her behind that dumpster. Her shoes clattered to the ground over the trail of blood splatters coming from her head.

  “Help!” she shouted. But she knew no one woul
d hear, not with the thumping music coming from the UMMA. “Don’t do this, please.”

  The man smiled and she kicked out again, foot sinking between his legs. He dropped to the ground, his face turned grey.

  A cool metal blade dug into her cheek and she stopped breathing for a few seconds. “Shut up or you’re gonna lose an eye.”

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  The men laughed.

  No one could see them.

  Cloaked in the darkness within the alley she could barely see them.

  One of them walked toward her, slowly pulling the zipper down his fly.

  And then he was gone.

  Her eye was swelling where she’d been punched and she had a hard time seeing through the gloss of tears that ran over her face. Feet scrambled beneath her and she flattened herself against the side of the stinking garbage bin, thinking small and invisible.

  Sharp cursing, a few grunts, and then a deafening clang! rang out next to Allie’s head when something was launched into the garbage bin. She scuttled away, thanking God when she heard the wail of sirens rise a few blocks over.

  Silence now, except for her own frantic breath in her ears.

  “Hey.” A male voice startled her and she jumped back.

  A hand rested on her elbow. “Don’t touch me!” She swatted it away. Hysterics cracked her voice to pieces. A surge of adrenaline ratcheted up inside her heart and threw it against her ribcage. Her entire body was vibrating with fear and she had to clench her jaw just to keep her teeth from chattering out of her head.

  The man eased back from her, turned away, and she watched him gather her things back into her purse. His head was a copper halo, bent down over the wallet he was flipping through.