Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (best books for students to read .txt) 📗

but recovers. His fist comes at me. I duck. Shit. If this fight goes to decision, I’d win. I need to get hit.

I rush Del Toro and slam him against the fence, holding him in a clinch. A barrage of punches hammer my back.

My leg snakes around one of his, keeping him off balance. He attempts a knee to my thigh, but my hold locks him down. He tries for a chokehold. I bury my shoulder deeper into his chest. My body constricts around his. The clock ticks on.

“Break it up!” The ref pushes us apart.

Arms raised, I stand back. The ref waves his hand between us. Fight’s back on.

Del Toro comes at me, head down, aiming for my gut. His signature move. He’s going for the take down. The split second before he hits, I check the clock. A minute and thirty-two seconds left. His shoulder slams into my abdomen, taking us both down. I land on my back, my lungs contracting for breath, and he straddles my leg in half guard.

Shit. Not good.

He rears back for the ground-and-pound. I throw my head to the side and cross my arms to protect my face. Blow after blow pound against my forearms. Pain rockets through my body. The buzz a steady hum in my head. Adrenaline shoots through my veins.

With my free leg, I brace my foot against the mat. The blows continue. Ringing in my ears, the buzz goes nuclear. I need to get to my feet.

My heel digs deep. I thrust my hips, bucking Del Toro off. I’ve got the mount. I pull back, landing a blow that sends blood to the mat. My instincts want victory, to finish him now, but reason stills my fist.

A horn sounds and the black-and-white striped shirt of the ref is in my face.

Round one over.

I jump to my feet and head to my corner. My head starts to clear. Shit, that was close. My cornermen shout orders at me while I rinse my mouth out. Blake stands back, and my eyes meet his. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. He knows what happened. I came seconds away from flipping the switch. I nod. He holds up one hand, all five fingers splayed. Five more minutes. I need to hold it together for five more minutes. He drops his hand and motions to the octagon.

Round two.

Del Toro’s bleeding. Fuck, I need to get hit more. Concentrate on the end game. My girl.

In the stands, Raven covers her mouth. She looks scared. Five more minutes, five more fucking minutes and she’s mine.

“Round two,” the ref yells. “Fight.”

Focus. We move close, fists raised. Del Toro throws a hard right. I don’t block it. It connects with my jaw. Lightning shoots down my neck. The buzz in my head is now a battle cry. I’m gonna kill this fucker.

I hit him with double strikes to his stomach. He steps back, gasping for breath. He comes at me with a quick jab to my ribs. Pain blasts through my side. I double over, but stay on my feet.

We circle each other. He throws a left. I dodge it. He’s open. One right hook would knock him out. I punch his ribs. He stumbles. I’m dying to finish this. I could take him down right now. Easily.

My eyes lock on his fists. He sweeps at my leg and connects. Pain throbs in my calf. I hop to regain my balance.

I unleash my restraint, my right fist slamming into his reddened ribs. He grunts and doubles over. My hands drop to my sides with a satisfied smile. Fuck, that felt good. I lock eyes with Raven. Hers widen, and flick past me. I spin. His right knee flies up, I move back, but it’s too late.

Two-hundred-fifty-seven pounds of force slam into my head.

Pain explodes at my ear. Bright white light flashes behind my eyes. My vision recedes. I stagger. My body hums. My mind empty, but for one thought.

Annihilate.

Del Toro steps into my space. I throw a right. My haymaker connects with the sweet spot on his jaw. His mouth guard flies in an explosion of blood and spit. He goes down.

Rag-dolled.

Game over. Oh, fuck.

Thirty

Raven

“Ladies and Gentlemen, your new UFL Heavyweight Champion, Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade.” The announcer’s words reverberate in my soul, raising the hair on my skin.

He won.

I drop to my seat as everyone around me stays standing. The voices of the fans are slow and slur in my ears. Their faces contort with the force of their excitement. I blink and grip the sides of my chair.

He won.

Katherine leans down and hugs me. My body shakes as she continues to jump up and down. She says something, but submerged in my misery, I can’t understand her. I absently nod, my focus distant, as I force my brain into action.

What do I do now?

I can’t think of anything. Except him. My body aches for him, wanting to be held, to cry in the safety of his arms. Together.

We can face anything as long as we’re together. It’s not too late to run. I could go somewhere remote, live low for a few years until Dominick loses interest. Tiny sparks of hope flare. That’s what I’ll do. I need to get to Jonah and get out of town. Now.

A jolt from my hip sends me to my feet. I press the pocket of my shorts to feel it vibrate. My phone. Who would be calling me now? I check the caller ID. New text from Guy? Guy doesn’t text.

Hello, Darling. If you want to save his life, you’ll follow Candy. Failure to comply will end him. Slowly. You have five minutes. –D

He has Guy. Holy shit!

Dominick has him. That’s why he never showed. My breath catches on a sob. I grip at my neck and swallow hard. He’ll kill him if I don’t cooperate. I don’t have time to get to Jonah.

“Four minutes and counting.” Candy grips my arm firmly.

I glare at her hand. She’s