Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

Blake mouthing something at me, and squint to read his lips.

“. . . fucking told you that dick was up to no good.”

I catch something out of the corner of my eye that makes me do a double take.

Candy.

What the hell is she doing here? Before the question registers in my mind, it’s answered.

Distraction.

Candy and a girl I’ve never seen saunter around the room, asking if there is anything anyone needs. They’re both wearing what amounts to Hooter’s uniforms, minus the owl. Their red shorts look like they’re painted on and their tank tops look more like sports bras.

Fucking Dominick.

“Wes!” My blood is boiling and I’m itching for a fight. I shake my head, half furious and half impressed with Dominick’s play.

If he can’t distract me, he’ll piss me off enough to want to kill someone then put me in the octagon.

My head trainer turns and walks to me. “What’s up, Jonah?”

I stand and meet Wes eye to eye. “I want those girls out of here. Now.” My voice is a low growl.

He looks over his shoulder and back to me, his eyes narrow. “Those girls?” He tilts his head, motioning to Candy and her sidekick.

“Yeah, Wes. Those girls.” I throw my arms out and look around the room. “Who the fuck do you think I’m talking about? They’re the only fucking girls in the room!” Blood pounds in my ears and a low buzz rattles in my head.

“Get ’em out of here, Wes. Seriously.” Blake’s voice is low and threatening at my side.

Wes steps over to the girls and says something I can’t hear. They both look my way, and I spear Candy with a glare that I hope sends fear through her veins.

Her smile disappears and her eyes hit the floor. The girl with her is going into some long explanation about something and Wes listens. After a few minutes, he makes his way back to me.

“They can’t leave. They’ve been assigned to the room. If they leave, they’re afraid they’ll get fired.”

“That’s bullshit!” Blake turns toward the girls. I grab his elbow.

Fuck it. I don’t have the brain space to worry about this shit right now. I’m falling right into Dominick’s trap by getting fired up. He wants me half-cocked before I get to the octagon. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“It’s cool, Blake. You just keep that bitch away from me.”

I suit up and hit the heavy bag. Every punch and kick relieves some of the anger polluting my focus. Blake and I move through some grappling techniques, and I feel the last of my tension dissolve.

Dominick thought he could goad me? Wrong.

Feeling more like myself, I go back to my place on the couch. Owen hits me up with the twenty-minute warning. Finally.

Behind my closed eyes, I play memories that make me relax. My dad and I playing ball in the front yard, him hugging my mom in the kitchen when he’d come home from work. Raven’s face alight with laughter, her peaceful expression when she’s deep in sleep—

A small hand brushes my knee then shoots straight up my shorts. My eyes fly open. I grab the hand and still its progression. Pressing it to my inner thigh, I pin the offender with my stare.

Candy is sitting on the coffee table, her body between my knees. She’s leaning forward in her barely-there clothes, her palm against my skin under my shorts. And I’m holding it there with my hand. Fuck.

The room is almost empty except for a couple guys, who are currently being distracted by Candy’s friend.

I rip her hand from my leg and stand, towering over her. “Nice try, bitch. Next time you put your hand on me, I’ll break it.”

She pulls free from my grip, fear working behind her eyes. She schools her features. “Whatever. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

It’s time to end this.

Twenty-nine

Raven

My knees are bouncing like the pistons on a Ferrari. I have a burning urge to run laps around this arena, but the fear that grips my gut keeps me planted in my seat.

I’m grateful for the executive car Jonah had pick us up. I don’t think either of us could drive with these nerves.

The driver made sure to get us here just before the title fight, opting to forgo the opening fights at Jonah’s request. He feared they might freak me out. He’s right.

Where’s Guy?

Last time we spoke, he said he’d be here for the opening fights. He’s not.

I grab my phone. No missed calls. I call Guy again. No answer. Darn it. Maybe his phone battery died, or he left it at home.

“Still no answer?” Katherine is beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“No.” I shove my phone into my pocket. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him. He seemed really excited to come tonight.”

Katherine rubs my back then re-knots her hands in her lap. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

My fingers drum against the plastic seat of my folding chair, a furious beat that matches my racing heart. I scan rows of people surrounding the octagon. The crowd hums with anticipation, bloodthirsty. So close to the octagon floor, no doubt I’ll be able to hear the thud of fist on flesh at this distance. My stomach plummets.

I check the glowing digital numbers on the clock above the octagon. Eighteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, thirty-six, thirty-five. They tick down, one by one, just like my freedom. Numbered in minutes. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

A warm hand stills my twitchy leg. “Calm down, honey. He’ll be okay.” Katherine misinterprets my anxiety.

Watching Jonah get hit in the octagon will be difficult, but I’m more concerned with his acting skills than his fighting skills.

I nod, smile, and fix my eyes back on the clock. Where is Guy?

The seats in the arena fill up quickly as people return from their bathroom and concession stand breaks. The air is heavy with energy and aggression. It could be my imagination, but the smell of blood and sweat seem to