Chapter 19

Book Two: Fight or Flight

Sweat dripped into Ash's eyes, momentarily obscuring his opponent. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs from the last punch he took. He ducked another jab and hit his opponent with a series of strikes to the side and back that brought grunts of pain from his opponent. Van Koslov, otherwise known as The Brick, went down onto one knee, panting.

Grinning, Ash jumped back, giving the other man room to recover and get up. Ash was having too much fun to end things now. The match hadn't lasted nearly long enough and this guy was supposed to be one of Sitnikov's best. Ash needed to put on a good show if he was going to attract another sponsor, and sponsor's tended to enjoy long fights with plenty of dirty hits and blood. So far, neither of them has started spontaneously bleeding.

Ash's gaze swept the warehouse, searching out some of the bigger players. He was pleased to see Tyson King, one of the city's most prominent businessmen with a penchant for illegal fights and underground gambling. The big, dark-skinned man was deep in conversation with his loyal bodyguard, and Ash's friend, Daniel Mercer. King could easily afford to sponsor Ash in the fights. He would be a good one to impress. Sitnikov himself wasn't in attendance, Ash noted, though several of his soldiers were.

He glanced back to check on the welfare of the guy he had just put down. Yup, still down. A short, sharp laugh cut through the cacophony of the cheering crowd, pulling his attention from the cage. Looking up, his gaze was caught by the most captivating woman he'd ever laid eyes on. It wasn't her physical attributes that held his attention. She was no showstopper like the boss' wife, Shania, who was all curves and breathtaking sexuality. (Thank fucking god his boss couldn't read minds or Ash would be fish food for even realizing Shania was a looker , Khalid was beyond possessive of his new wife.)

There was something different about this woman. She was on the short side, small-boned and delicate. But the attitude coming off of her, like a tropical storm surge, was enough to get Ash's heart pumping for more than the fight. She was wearing a black, zipped up hoodie with a silver lightening bolt on the front over black leggings and combat boots. The hood was up, obscuring her hair and casting shadows over her face. He couldn't see her eyes from this angle but he could see her full lips, painted a deep purple colour.

She must have realized his attention was on her, because she flashed him a grin and slowly licked her lips, showing him exactly what a wicked tongue like hers might do to a man.

Ash felt his goddamn body responding to her invitation. Right there in the ring, surrounded by hundreds of people, he was about to sport an erection. Not that he cared. Sometimes the adrenalin of the fight had been known to affect guys in a similar way. She would know who his cock stood up for though, he was sure, from the way she deliberately teased him.

She was everything Ash was attracted to in a woman, bold, striking, aggressive. A bad little girl. He could tell. He wanted to fuck that badness out of her in a way that nearly had him leaping out of the cage and stalking toward her.

As if sensing his thoughts, she tilted her chin up, shot him the finger and strode away toward the back of the arena. Ash was trying to determine if he had just fallen in love when a fist connected hard with the side of his head.

Oh yeah. He was in the middle of a fight. It was a damn good thing his head was made of concrete. With a slashing grin, he turned back to his opponent, determined to put the man down as quickly as he could and go find the sexy little bitch that dared to tease him while he was in the middle of a fight.

The fight lasted another three minutes. To Van's credit, the guy put up a hell of a fight when Ash decided to get serious. Unfortunately for Van, he was no match for Ash. Very few men were.

After the fight, Ash had brushed off well wishers, groupies and, much to Dan's amusement, even an overture from Tyson King in favour of searching the warehouse for the little beauty who seemed determined to stay out of his reach. Frustrated, he headed for the showers, wondering if he would see her again or if she would remain an elusive memory. Just the recollection of a pair of lips he was almost certain to jack off to.

He rinsed shampoo from his hair and ran a hand over the short blond strands, spiking them up. He leaned forward, a hand against the wall and water pouring done his muscular back and taut ass.

He was contemplating just jacking off right there in the shower where anyone could walk in and see him, while picturing her purple tinted lips wrapped around his throbbing cock. As if to prove his concern, a husky, feminine voice spoke from several feet behind him.

"Whose dog are you, fighter man? Do you belong to Khalid Casino or Tyson King? You for sale?"

Ash stiffened, annoyed.

Other fighters loved the pussy thrown at them after a fight. He wasn't one of them. He enjoyed fucking as much as the next guy, but he wanted to be the one doing the chasing. Being fawned over by cheap whores for his ability to make other men bleed just didn't interest him.

"Get out," he snapped, not bothering to turn around. "I'm not interested."

The tension in the change room noticeably ratcheted up a few notches, as though her temper was a physical presence. He arched a brow and looked over his shoulder at the woman interrupting his shower, ready to give her an earful and send her packing.

Of course it was her standing behind him, looking like she might stab him if she had something pointy at hand. He should have felt her presence the way he had in the warehouse earlier. He blamed his dulled senses on the waning fight adrenalin. Her hood was pushed back revealing shoulder length black and blue hair. Just the tips were a bright, vibrant blue, as though she had leaned over and dipped them in a paint can. Her eyes were icy blue, rimmed in heavy black make up.

Lust hit him like a punch in the gut. He just stared at her, taking in every detail of her small, fuckable body.

"I don't give a fuck if you're ‘interested' asshole, you couldn't tap this if you were the last guy on Earth!" she snapped, hands on hips, combat boots spread apart. "Tell me, are you always this arrogant, to assume a woman would seek you out just for sex?"

"Yes," he answered, without hesitating. "They don't come for the conversation, that's for damn sure."

She stared at him with those big blue eyes and then started to laugh. "You got a set on you, don't you?"

"Yes," he confirmed flashing her an arrogant grin. "Want to come see?"

She snorted indelicately and clutched tightly onto her army green, spiked purse. "In your dreams."

"Fuck yeah!" he agreed quickly.

He heard her breath hitch and knew right then and there that she was interested in him too. He turned to face her, his full, erect penis jutting proudly from him body. Her eyes flew to there without thought, and widened.

She licked her lips, a gesture he was starting to realize was less provocative and more a sign of her nervous interest. He wanted her bad. But sensed, despite her boldness, that she was like a bird ready to fly at the slightest movement.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

She licked those gorgeous purple lips again and looked at him through her dark mask of make up. "I'm vetting you."

He laughed, guttural and loud and shook his head. "You can vet me any time, baby. What do you think you saw out there?"

She shrugged and arched a brow at his dismissal of the veracity of her words. "Powerful. Hard jaw and head. You don't go down easy. You have good style, but you rely too much on your ability to hit hard and fast, not enough on skill and training. Which I assume you have, right? You're easily distracted." She cast him a wicked look. "And you're too arrogant. You could too easily underestimate your opponent. Overall, not a bad prospect, but a wild card for a potential sponsor."

He frowned and really looked at her. He had no fucking clue who she was, but she knew what to look for in a fighter. He was beginning to believe she really was there as a scout. How could he not know her?

The city was big enough, with a population of a few million people, but the illegal fighting circle was small. If she was as knowledgeable as she sounded he should know who she was. His interest in mystery woman just deepened.

"Who are you?" he demanded bluntly.

She paced toward the entrance of the shower room and back, spinning on her toes gracefully, despite the heavy boots she wore. She was lithe, like a dancer, her movements sleek and bold. God, he wanted to get his hands on her so bad his body pulsed with the need to reach out and grab her.

"Anya," she said with a shrug.

"Anya." He repeated her name in a sexy deep voice. "Who are you, Anya baby? How come we've never met before?"

She grinned. "So arrogant, Ash!" she chided. "Assuming we've never met each other. Have you had so much pussy in your life that you can't remember one more face in a sea of women? For shame."

He growled, "I'd remember you Anya. There's no comparison between you and the women I've known. We never met before today." He looked at her shrewdly. "But you know me. I'd bet money you've seen me around."

She tossed a cheeky grin his way and continued to pace, running a small hand along the tiled wall behind her.

"You're so cute, Ash. You know just how to flatter a girl." She batted her long, silky eyelashes at him and said in that husky voice that went straight to his groin, "maybe I should order the napkins now , Ash and Anya, I can just see the wedding invites, what an adorable couple!"

He didn't care for her sarcasm, but he had to acknowledge that he did like the sound of his name on her lips, especially when she talked about them having any kind of relationship. While the street hardened criminal in him cringed at this fledgling desire to pick up any scraps she might toss his way, the man wanted to possess and woo her.

"You need a spanking little girl, or maybe something else to occupy that bratty mouth of yours."

She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Oh, baby boy," she mocked him, "you'd have to be tough enough to back that shit up."