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The two men circled each other under the watchful eye of Roberto Luiz, but as soon as they came together in a clinch, Mick dropped to a knee, shot in to grab Powell’s left leg, and sent him sprawling to the floor. With blinding speed, he swung his body up and around Powell’s defenses, hooking an arm around his throat and both legs around the larger man’s right shoulder.
Powell found himself tapping the mat frantically to stop Mick from dislocating his shoulder.
Luiz brought both men back to their feet, and Powell slapped himself across the face with each hand.
“Lucky,” he muttered under his breath.
Mick showed no emotion, standing ready to begin again.
The second time the two fighters clinched, Mick let himself be taken down with a hip toss, but when he hit the mat he pulled Powell’s arm close to his body, swiveling his hips and locking in a painful arm bar on his standing opponent. From flat on his back. The Bruiser tapped out again.
Powell stormed off the mat and slapped a full water bottle from atop a set of lockers near the trash can.
“Can’t wait to tell my ‘old lady’ how I got to train with a real-life UFC fighter!” Mick mocked his cocky opponent.
Powell glared at him. “Fuck you. What kind of shit is this, Roberto? Who is this guy, some kind of jiu-jitsu world champion ringer or something?”
“He’s just some old guy, remember? Mick, what color belt do you have?”
“Belt? Black. Absolutely. Got it at Brooks Brothers. Came with the last set of suits I bought.”
“You two are hilarious. This is a set-up,” Powell complained. “Whatever. But I started my career in kickboxing. Come down to ’Berto’s gym some time and I’ll wipe the floor with you in the ring.”
“Bad idea, brother,” Roberto interjected. “Mick’s hands are better than his grappling.”
“How about we just train, mate? I need a workout,” Mick said, walking over and extending a hand.
Powell shook it reluctantly, and the three men began what wound up being a grueling two-hour session, all three of them flat on their backs, shirtless and sweating, gasping for air by the end.
When they finally staggered to get towels and water, Powell expressed his new-found respect for Mick. “Dude. I need to work like this again, soon. What’s your schedule like?”
“Sorry, mate, I just drop in on Roberto now and then,” Mick explained. “I don’t train regularly anymore.”
“Training camp starts in two weeks for my next fight in California. In Big Bear. Can you come down for a weekend or something?”
“We’ll see. I’m off for a week back home, in the U.K., leaving tonight. In just a few hours. After that, I’d have to look at my schedule. Get with Roberto, he’ll hit me up, maybe we can do something.”
Mick thanked Roberto for the workout and put on a dry, sleeveless t-shirt. He figured he had enough time to drive home, throw some green stuff in his blender for a smoothie, have a quick shower, and head for the airport.
Just before getting on the freeway, he pulled into a gas station to grab a drink. He waved a red Camry in right before him and returned a courtesy wave from the blonde behind the steering wheel.
Chapter 13
Ayla had been battling exhaustion since somewhere around Barstow.
She hated the taste of coffee, especially the putrid gas station stuff, but she’d forced herself to keep drinking it as she kept her car pointed toward Las Vegas.
The last mountain range before the Nevada state border was summited by Ayla’s car under protest. It knocked, pinged, and limped to the top, the A/C barely functioning.
Preston did his best not to complain, but it was hot.
“When we get to that Sinclair station around the corner from home, we’ll stop and you can get a slushie, okay?”
Preston agreed, giving an exaggerated nod.
Somehow, Ayla coaxed her car the rest of the way up I-15 and down the 215 until she reached their exit. The gas station was on the left side of the street, and she pulled into the center turn lane looking for a hole in the traffic so she could produce the promised slushie for her son.
Cars backed up at the light going the other direction, but a small gap appeared and a guy in a black Navigator waved her over. She waved back and pulled in.
