Larson heard the announcer continuing to talk, and then he heard his name being called. A knock on the door by one of the bouncers told him he was due out there. He headed toward the scarred door, pulled it open, and took a moment to stare at the crowd. The bodies were shoulder-to-shoulder, and the scent of sweat and booze filled the air. People started going crazy in their excitement.
Tonight they were about to see a lot of blood cover the mat, and that had Larson smiling in excitement and anticipation.
Chapter Five
Tasha’s eyes widened at the mass of people pushing and shoving each other and at the scent of sweat and beer that was thick in the air. Those latter scents couldn’t mask the aroma of blood and violence, though. The guy still had a hold of her hand and started making his way through the thick sea of bodies, pulling her like she was a rag doll. She tried to get free of his hold if only to pace herself, but he tightened his hand, looked over his shoulder, and grinned.
The room was lit brightly, and the closer they got to the center the better she saw the main event arena. A crude, caged ring was constructed in the center of the basement. The people surrounded it, beers and liquor in their hands, and drunk, excited expressions covering their faces. Off to one side was a bar where the fans were buying their liquor and getting even more trashed by the second. And off to the other side seemed to be where the women—Chasers—all congregated. They were easy enough to spot, what with their barely-there clothing, their teased and styled hair, and the thick, caked on makeup they wore.
“Are you assholes ready for a grand fucking fight?” The voice that came through the loudspeaker pierced Tasha’s ears and made them ring. She looked around the room, saw the crowd going even wilder, and knew this was so not her scene, not even her element. This was why these people came here, to be shocked, devastated by the violence and bloodshed. The noise, the atmosphere, all of it got their juices flowing, got them hard and aroused, excited about what was about to go down.
Tasha looked around the packed room again, knowing she would see Larson soon, see him in the ring and not just for training. This was the real deal, and she didn’t know, now that she stood here, if she could handle it.
“We have a fight happening tonight between the one, the only, Larson ‘The Champion’ Ireland.” The crowd went wild. “And we all know when Larson fights, he motherfucking fights to the end.” The crowd went even wilder. The guy holding Tasha’s hand hollered and lifted their conjoined hands in the air, shouting like a madman. “Let’s give some love and encouragement to Larson,” the announcer screamed out.
Finally the guy released his hold on her and started clapping his hands together, and shouting to get the “fucking fight going already”, and acting just as wild as the rest of the crowd.
Common sense told Tasha she was out of her element, and that leaving, pulling herself out of this situation and what she was about to see, was probably the right thing to do. But curiosity and a twisted desire to see what would happen next had her feet rooted to the spot. The endorphins pumped through her, making her jittery and anxious, nervous and excited.
A tall, muscular man stepped out of the back door in the corner of the dilapidated building. He was shirtless, with a lean, muscled abdomen. His head was downcast, his light brown hair hanging over his forehead and kind of blocking his eyes. He had a hoodie on, the zipper undone, and the tattoos on display. He looked calm, collected. Her heart started beating faster when he stepped into the cage and removed his hoodie. He was bigger than she gave him credit for at first glance, and although Larson was a big man, there was something about this fighter that worried her. He didn’t gloat, didn’t even show expression on his face.
A woman clad in a dress that was so short and tight it was a wonder she could even walk, climbed into the cage and proceeded to hold up a large white board. It stated the round would begin, but Tasha knew it was mainly meant to tease the crowd. The man started jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, his head still downcast and his attention on the stained mat.
“I’ve heard of that fighter before.” The guy next to her hadn’t even told her his name, but she honestly didn’t care. “He’s newer to the underground scene, but the last two fights he’s done have been total knockouts.”
Tasha stared at the guy beside her, then looked at the fighter. He had his eyes closed, still bounced on his feet, and she knew that he wasn’t like other men Larson had been in the ring with. He wasn’t cocky, or at least wasn’t acting like it. Larson was like this fighter: calm, collected, didn’t let anyone see what he thought or felt.