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Raven was losing her cool. She felt cheated and it showed in her acidic tone of voice. “You’ve got twenty-four hours, mister. I want to hear that you have an interview, at the very least. You hear me?”
Hank became transformed. Anger poured down the phone in a bitter torrent, a long built-up frustration finally given voice. “No, you’re going to need to hearme, Raven. You don’t get it. This isn’t like before, some minor hoodlums, some street thugs, a dealer with more product than sense.Thesepeople...” he said, searching for the word, “they’reserious, Raven, they’re gonna hurt me if I don’t get them what they say I owe.”
“Then call the cops,” Raven said, in full knowledge of how unhelpful it was.
“You gotta help me, you just gotta. I ain’taskingyou now. That’s over. You don’t want to live with the consequences of saying no again, I’m certain you don’t.”
“Don’t threaten me, you ungrateful little shit,” she chastised. “You’ll get nothing that way, I assure you.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” he said darkly.
Raven stood up from the sofa and scowled down at the phone. “What did you say?”
“I think it’s time for a visit from your favorite brother,” he said chillingly. “Then we’ll see how helpful you’re prepared to be.”
Raven tried to keep her voice level. Knowing that she was rattled would only embolden him. “You have no idea where I am, idiot. I made sure of that.”
“You made sure of nothing,” he said, half whispered as if to underline the threat. “I know exactly where you are.”
“Bullshit!”
“And I’ll be seeing you soon.” The line went dead.
By the timeeveryone had taken a shower and was ready to go, there was only a half hour left before the event. Wes shooed them out the door and into Raven’s Pontiac for the short journey to the local gym.
“If you’ve never seen anything like this before,” Wes enthused, “you’re in for a treat.”
“You mean, the treat of watching highly trained warriors beating thebejesusout of each other?” Maggie asked sarcastically.
“It’s anart form, honey. That’s why they call it mixed martialarts.” The women were not convinced. “OK, can’t you just be impressed by some seriously sculpted male forms instead?”
Maggie giggled. “That, we can appreciate.” She nudged Raven, noticing that her friend seemed a little withdrawn.Just nervous about seeing Ridge again, she reasoned.Any girl in her right mind would be.
Wes agreed. “Yeah, you and half the women of Texas. Mitch told me that Ridge got quite the ovation last time,” he reported. “You’d have thought freakingIronmanhad flown in for a visit or something.” Ridge’s standing among the local women couldn’t have been higher. The only issue was his extreme selectivity; none of the adoring fans he so politely kept at arm’s length had ever succeeded in getting a date with him, let alone enjoying his perfectly toned musculature. It was frustrating for some, a turnoff for others, but for the vast majority it had created a uniquely alluring combination: hot, human, and hard to get.
To their surprise, Ridge had arranged tickets for them at the front desk, and all three were ringside. Just as they took their seats in the modest, 300-seat arena, Raven noticed Mitch arriving with another guy, presumably Ridge’s other lifelong buddy, Flynn. “I’m just going to say hi, OK?” She slipped between the rows of seating and excused herself around some expectant members of the audience before tapping Mitch on the shoulder.
“Hey, little lady. You ready to see something special?” Mitch introduced Flynn, who had, up to that point, only heard of Raven from Mitch and Ridge.
“Nice to meet ya,” said Flynn with a friendly smile. “Wow, it just goes to show Ridge’s still not given to exaggeration.” Raven gave him a quizzical look. “He said you’re the prettiest girl in Texas, and he ain’t wrong, right, Mitch?” Flynn took in the sight of Raven’s slender frame and the long, auburn hair which so perfectly framed her face.And what a face.
“Dude, you can get yourself in trouble with a retired SEAL martial artist if you want, but I ain’t letting her knownothingthat Ridge said.” Raven giggled at length, enjoying the social slapstick as these two men acted out a bumbling Texan version of the Marx brothers.
“Want to tell me how this works?” she said, eager to defuse their embarrassment.
“Sure,” said Mitch. “It’s just three knockout tournaments, and they’re all a little different. The first up will be the juniors.”
“The under-eighteens,” added Flynn helpfully.
“They have their own mini-tournament, and the folks here now are mostly their moms and dads,” Mitch explained.
“Then there’s the non-GI tournament,” announced Flynn. Raven arched an eyebrow. “Non-military types,” he explained. “I know Ridge ain’t serving no more, but he’sdefinitelyin the GI category. You’ll see why.”
“After that,” Mitch concluded, “is the GI tournament, during which Petty Officer First Class Ridge Dawson, US Navy, retired,” he said, forming parentheses with his curved hands, “will annihilate at least one opponent in front of a huge, screaming crowd of hot women.”
“Mitch,” Flynn sighed. “Seriously, dude.”
Mitch held up his hands. “I’m sorry, but how else can I put it? The place will get packed in the next hour, and by the time the GI tourney starts it will befreakin’chaos.”
