“Our next fighter doesn’t need an introduction, but because he scares the shit outta me, I’ll give him one, anyway! Shake in your boots, boys, and drop your panties, ladies! I give you: Travis ‘Mad Dog’ Maddox!”
The volume exploded when Travis appeared in a doorway across the room. He made his entrance, shirtless, relaxed and unaffected. He strolled into the center of the circle as if he were showing up to another day at work. The lean muscles stretched under his tattooed skin as he popped his fists against Marek’s knuckles. Travis leaned in and whispered something in Marek’s ear, and the wrestler struggled to keep his stern expression. Marek stood toe to toe with Travis, and they looked directly into each others eyes. Marek’s expression was murderous; Travis looked mildly amused.
The men took a few steps back, and Adam sounded the horn. Marek took a defensive stance, and Travis attacked. I stood on my tip toes when I lost my line of sight, leaning from side to side to get a better view. I inched up, sliding through the screaming crowd. Elbows jabbed into my sides, and shoulders rammed into me, bouncing me back and forth like a pin ball. The tops of Marek’s and Travis’ heads became visible, so I continued to push my way forward.
When I finally reached the front, Marek grabbed Travis with his thick arms and attempted to throw him to the ground. When Marek leaned down with the motion, Travis rammed his knee into Marek’s face. Before Marek could shake off the blow, Travis lit into him; his fists making contact with Marek’s bloodied face over and over.
Five fingers sank into my arm and I jerked back.
“What the hell are you doing, Abby?” Shepley said.
“I can’t see from back there!” I called to him.
I turned just in time to see Marek land a solid punch. Travis turned, and for a moment I thought he had dodged another blow, but he made a complete circle, crashing his elbow straight into the center of Marek’s nose. Blood sprayed my face, and splattered down the front of my cardigan. Marek fell to the concrete floor with a thud, and for a brief moment the room was completely silent.
Adam threw a scarlet square of fabric on Marek’s limp body, and the mob detonated. Cash changed hands once again, and the expressions divided into the smug and the frustrated.
I was pushed around with the movement of those coming and going. America called my name from somewhere in the back, but I was mesmerized by the trail of red from my chest to my waist.
A pair of heavy black boots stepped in front of me, diverting my attention to the floor. My eyes traveled upward; jeans spattered with blood, a set of finely-chiseled abs, a bare, tattooed chest drenched in sweat, and finally a pair of warm, brown eyes. I was shoved from behind, and Travis caught me by the arm before I fell forward.
“Hey! Back up off her!” Travis frowned, shoving anyone who came near me. His stern expression melted into a smile at the sight my shirt, and then he dabbed my face with a towel. “Sorry about that, Pigeon.”
Adam patted the back of Travis’ head. “C’mon, Mad Dog! You have some dough waitin’ on ya!”
His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “It’s a damn shame about the sweater. It looks good on you.” In the next moment he was engulfed by fans, disappearing the way he came.
“What were thinking you idiot?” America yelled, yanking my arm.
“I came here to see a fight, didn’t I?” I smiled.
“You aren’t even supposed to be here, Abby,” Shepley scolded.
“Neither is America,” I said.
“She doesn’t try to jump in the circle!” he frowned. “Let’s go.”
America smiled at me and wiped my face. “You are such a pain in the ass, Abby. God, I love you!” She hooked her arm around my neck, and we made our way up the stairs and out into the night.
America followed me into my dorm room, and then sneered at my roommate, Kara. I immediately peeled off the bloody cardigan, throwing it into the hamper.
“Gross. Where have you been?” Kara asked from her bed.
I looked to America, who shrugged. “Nose bleed. You haven’t seen one of Abby’s famous nose bleeds?”