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The bulky giant guarding the warehouse door nodded as Samson and Mamba approached. “Hey, boss, you fighting tonight?”
“Nothing scheduled, but yeah.” He and Samson exchanged a fist bump, then the bouncer pushed open the heavy door, and the metallic scent of blood, body heat, sweat, and anxious anticipation surrounded Samson. Heavy metal music blasted, guys jockeyed to get closer to the cage, and money changed hands on every straight and side bet imaginable. The energy filled Samson with a natural high.
He needed the fight club tonight more than usual between Nick dogging him about Lisbeth, then screwing it up because of some nameless stripper, and the gnawing in his gut that everything they worked for was about to come crashing down around them.
“The best thing we ever did was take over this place.” Samson glanced around the room. “Fuckin’ moneymaker.”
“Agreed.” Mamba craned his neck to see the fighters in the cage better. “The guy in the blue silks fights like a fuckin’ pussy. Doesn’t have a chance against Axel.”
“Hey, boss. Didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Rocco pushed his way through the crowd. “Place is fuckin’ packed. Plenty of suckers throwing their cash around like they’re mad at their money.”
Samson found Rocco running the fights at a tumble-down roadhouse in Searchlight, where Samson first met Mamba. He liked Rocco’s fight knowledge and his no-bullshit attitude so he hired him to manage the bouts at Valley View.
“Set me up with something.” Samson did some air boxing. “Looking to burn off some excess energy.”
“Sure, boss.” Rocco’s leathery face split into a grin. “If you’re looking to fuck somebody up at two in the morning, it must mean some bitch got you twisted.”
“Women, right?” Samson answered the way Rocco expected, but little did the trainer know how close he was to the truth.
Earlier tonight, Samson envisioned ending the night with Lisbeth’s legs wrapped around his hips. He fantasized about taking her in Ecstasy’s VIP room—bending her over, and sinking into her sweet body until she begged for more. Of course, that didn’t happen, so he was surrounded by a bunch of sweaty guys, ready to spill some blood instead.
Samson loved to fight, but Lisbeth writhing under him while calling out his name—yeah, that would’ve been way fuckin’ better.
Mamba and Samson stopped several times for backslaps and fist bumps as they made their way through the room. The fights were free-for-alls. No weight classes, medical exams, or rules—only stopping when a guy tapped out or couldn’t move. Harsh overhead lighting bathed the fighters as the crowd of mostly men jeered and cheered them on.
One more brutal punch and Axel laid out his opponent as Mamba predicted. The referee blew the whistle, then hustled onto the mat. He fisted the loser’s hair, examined his bloody face, then dropped his head to the mat with athud. Straightening, he declared Axel the winner, and the cold-blooded crowd roared louder. Brutal, fierce, and just what Samson needed.
The few women scattered around the place got off on watching guys mix it up in the cage. Then afterward, they’d help them unwind by sucking dick or spreading their legs.
“Hey, handsome.” Bambi stepped in his path and ran her hot pink nails down the front of his t-shirt. “Haven’t seen you here in a while.”
Although she was a regular at the fights, Samson never indulged. He had no intention of shoving his dick into what every other guy in the place had already tapped more than once.
“You fighting tonight?” She leaned up to his ear. “'Cause maybe afterward, you and me could have a private get-together” She giggled. “And you can be sure I’ll let you win.”
“Not tonight.” Or any other night. Samson liked his dick healthy, and he had a feeling even a condom wouldn’t protect him from her used-up snatch.
“You sure, 'cause watching you fight makes me hot as fuck.” She cupped her ridiculously huge tits and smooshed them together, pushing her nipples over the flimsy material of her tank top. “I’ll bet this will make you change your mind.”
“Leave him alone, Bambi.” Mamba pushed her off. “He ain’t interested in catching anything you got.”
“Fuck you,” Bambi yelled, anchoring her hands on her hips. “I never heard any complaints when I was sucking your dick.”
Samson shoulder-butted Mamba as they stepped away from her. “Man, you must’ve been fuckin’ desperate to hit that germ factory.”
“Shut the fuck up. Everybody’s entitled to one mistake. Maybe two.” Mamba shook his head. “It was way before I got with Mandy. Back in the day, I wasn’t too picky, probably 'cause I was high most of the time. When you’re jacked up on coke, even Bambi looks good.”
“Yeah, I hear you, but I’d need a mountain of white powder to get with her.”
“Fuckin’ truth, brother.” Mamba slung his muscled arm over Samson’s shoulder. “When I first met you, I thought you were some New York player, just buying shit up to make a buck.” Mamba smirked. “But you turned out to be a New York player who knew how to make a buck and also knew the fight game.”
“I thought you were a wise-ass motherfucker, and then I saw you fight.”
He was blown away the first time seeing Mamba in the cage. The man moved like a fuckin’ cat.
“And?” Mamba prodded.
