WILD HEAT

2. The fight

CHAPTER TWO

Mason Wilkins sat in his hotel room, his gaze firmly planted on the live camera in his laptop, already dressed up for the fight. He could see the waiting area leading to the private underground fighting arena and it was damn full like always. These fights were pretty unpredictable hence someone needed to be hella prepared all the time.

“You have been attracting quiet the attention lately will your consecutive winnings,” His best friend and trainer; Cohen said as he patted him on the shoulder.

“Well, too bad none of them really know who I’m. To them, I’m just a masked champion they really have no clue about but just keeping betting for to gain money,” he sighed, leaning back on the couch..

In a few minutes the fight would start and he was very much ready for this one. High profiled people were paying to watch this from a different room in the hotel and he would be damned if he lost the fight. No, it was not the for the money because he was loaded. To the world he was the twenty-four years old basketball player who won the coveted All-In NBA award last year. He only did the illegal, underground fighting because he loved the rush and the dominating feeling he got every time he got in the ring. It was like an escape for him.

“Time to go kick some ass, Mask,” Mask. That was the name everyone called him and in a way he loved it. It was like a reflection of what his life was- still is. A mask that hid his ugly scars and instead presented him to the world as a famous, perfect being but he was far from that.

He picked up the dark mask, pulling it over his face and only leaving space for his lips and eyes. Grabbing the knee leather hoodie, he wore it, leaving his deliciously toned abs to the mercy of the crowd. Who would not swoon over Mason well-sculptured abs? Heck, one could actually shred cheese on them. He was about to switch off the laptop when something-or someone to be precise caught his eye.

"f**k!" He cussed under his breath, feeling the twist in his pants at the sight of the raven-haired beauty.

She was distractive.

Way too distractive.

He had no idea who she was but nobody had ever had that effect on him before and he was not about to let some random girl, distract him. Shaking that thought off his head, he switched the laptop off and joined Cohen in the private elevator that went right into the back of the underground arena.

He had never seen anything quite or anyone like her before. She was holistically breathtaking, stirring him awake with a desire he had never known to possess. It’s like all he wanted was suddenly to have her even if it was just for night.

That woman…

“Are you okay dude?” Cohen questioned as the elevator pinged to a stop.

“Could never have been better. Let’s go bash some heads. What was his name again?” He questioned.

“Mad Dog. I heard he is quiet tough but I’m pretty sure you can take him,” Cohen answered, tapping Mason on the shoulder, completely in confidence.

“Mad Dog, huh? Let’s see if by the end of the fight he’d still be able to bark or he’d just be walking back to his Kennel with his tail between his legs,” He smirked as he walked in the back room, ready to make his entrance.

The loud sound of the horn being blown cut through the air as Laden’s voice filled the area. Mason could hear him clearly from where he stood. Cohen had gone in ahead to read the environment and see what the odds were.

“Let’s go over the rules one more time. Last-minute betting is now and once the fights starts, no more betting. No switching bets once it’s placed, no assistance and no touching the fighters. You break one of my rules, I get my guys to beat the s**t out of you then throw you out. Am I f*****g clear?” Laden shouted and the crowd shouted back with yes.

“Good. Now get ready for Las Vegas’s Mad Dog. He is about to rip the night off,” Cheering ensued and Mason could easily tell the bets against him had to be about seventy percent of the total bets.

“s**t! You only got nine percent of the best man. They are all rooting for their homeboy,”

“Well, who gives a f**k? I’ll be the one smirking at the end of the night anyway,” Mason confidently. Nine percent was not even bad. He once got a three percent in Los Angeles and he still won.

“Now let’s welcome all the way from New York, we’ve got the Mask. Trust me, He is as lethal as they come, “Laden announced. The cheering was barely audible but he did not mind at all.

Mason took a deep breath, then walked inside, his steps well calculated as he eyed his opponent with each step he took. Mad Dog was slightly taller than his six point two inches but they were almost the same in the body size. As he gazed at him, he could not figure out a single visible weakness. Well, if he had no weakness then Mason was going to play this game his way. He was going to make him think that he had a weakness. He turned to survey the crowd that was packed to the brim in the smoky air filled arena. Most of the crowd was a bunch of college students but if someone looked closer, they could spot a few important government people and business class moguls.

But then his eyes caught the familiar blue cardigan sticking out of the crowd and only the sudden wild ramming of his heart could describe the moment. Her wild raven curls bounced back, a scowl on her face. She clearly did not want to be here. If she had not been busy glaring at the guy next to her, she would have noticed him looking at her.