Chapter Eleven #2
The crowd was loud as hell. Kuba’s head pounded.
Kuba wouldn’t win tonight. He was too far off his game.
Jayme hadn’t resurfaced, and his tantrum came too close to the actual fight to find a replacement.
For obvious reasons, he couldn’t use Diesel.
If he touched Diesel again, he would never stop, and Diesel deserved someone better than him.
Someone unashamed. Someone who wouldn’t hide him.
He didn’t know what he had expected would happen.
Diesel couldn’t have stayed a secret forever.
Eventually, he would have had questions.
None of that mattered now. Diesel hated him.
Especially considering the way Kuba had played things, acting like he was only guarding his private life when the truth was so much worse.
Not a damn soul on this planet, other than Diesel, had known he was into men.
He had always been too scared to touch another man.
Diesel was a risk he never expected to take.
Since he was bisexual, he had stuck with women, even though that wasn’t his preference. Diesel was special.
Kuba kept his back teeth locked as his tape got signed off by officials.
He fought with everything he possessed to keep from looking Diesel’s way.
Slurs and cheers mixed together as he headed for the cage.
As much as he wanted to believe the cheers were louder, the slurs were all he heard.
Combining that with seeing his opponent had Kuba set to boil.
Once again, he waited for another official to check his tape before stepping inside.
Kuba blocked out everything. All he saw was the man across from him.
When had Dread started looking so old? Logically, he knew Dread was twice his age, but fuck.
Dread was graying at the temples and still bouncing in place as the rules were read.
Would he still be stuck doing this shit at Dread’s age?
Kuba didn’t move. He stood like a statue and stared Dread down.
Now that his gaze was on his opponent, every other ounce of bullshit in his life bled away.
The level of hatred Kuba felt for Dread was unmatched.
He was the type of scum who didn’t deserve to walk the earth.
Maybe this would be the fight where he actually killed him.
“Whoa, folks. Look at that death stare. This fight is going to be a good one. Two opponents have never hated each other more.”
Well, half of that was true. Only two people understood what they really watched. That was Dread and Kuba.
The bell rang. They didn’t show any respect.
Kuba just watched and waited. Dread was too much of a showman.
His eagerness was always his undoing. All it took was one careless lunge.
Kuba dodged and swung. His punch landed hard.
He felt Dread’s nose break. An evil laugh rang through his mind.
Now he was in this thing. Dread bled, and that felt fantastic.
He watched Dread’s shoulder drop like it happened in slow motion.
Kuba couldn’t believe he hadn’t worked harder on such an easy tell.
Kuba pulled the perfect roundhouse kick.
Dread was down. Kuba immediately dropped and pinned him.
With the slightest twist, Dread tapped out.
There was no satisfaction. In fact, that had been way too easy.
His temper spiked to new levels. Kuba’s arm was raised, and the crowd roared.
He couldn’t do anything but stare hard at Dread, studying every movement.
His fury grew larger by the second. Every after-fight activity went by so fast, Kuba wondered if he had blacked out halfway through.
The instant he was set free, Kuba was on a mission.
His entourage of security tried to keep up as Kuba stormed his way to his private green room.
At the last second, he dipped left and burst into Dread’s room.
Dread was alone—almost as if he waited for Kuba.
Kuba flew into a rage. “You motherfucker. You threw that fight.” Someone grabbed him from behind and stopped him from attacking.
“Be a man and admit it. You took a fucking dive. How much did you make over that little show?” Pride wouldn’t let him walk away.
Kuba could beat Dread any day of the week, but he deserved to do so fairly.
Dread didn’t match his energy. That didn’t calm Kuba at all. “Take it easy. No one paid me to do anything.”
Kuba struggled against whoever held him. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Maybe I’m just some punk-ass kid to you, but I worked to get here. This career is my life.”
Dread sighed. His face looked awful from the hits he took. “Look, it got you to talk to me. That’s all a father ever wants from their kids. Nothing else I’ve done has worked.”
“Fuck you! Krystof is my father.” He tore away, ready to rip Dread’s throat out for daring to say that to him. He was locked down again. This time, there was no getting away. He knew those arms.
“Stop, Kuba. It’s not worth it. Do this the right way. Let the league investigate.”
Kuba turned on Diesel with a fury he had carried for years. “Don’t fucking tell me how to handle this. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you. In fact, I never needed you. I just wanted you and I always get what I want.”
The fire inside him died as Diesel’s expression sucked all life-giving air from the room.
“Okay.” Diesel shrugged. “Do what you want.” He turned away.
“I’m out.” The words were meant for another guard.
The guy nodded, as if he had this. No one had this.
This was too big. The subject of Dread had always been way too fucking big and suffocating.
Unfortunately, as he watched Diesel go and saw the angry eyes averting, he knew he had done something that couldn’t be undone.
Kuba didn’t look Dread’s way. Diesel was right. This wasn’t the way to handle this. In fact, he was currently giving Dread exactly what he wanted. Never again. Kuba walked toward the door. He kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to give Dread the satisfaction of seeing his face.
“Kuba. Goddamn it, will you just fucking listen to me for once. I loved your mom more than anyone else on the planet. You’re all I have left of her.”
He didn’t slow. Kuba didn’t give a shit if Dread hurt. Dread lived the life he had chosen, unencumbered by the weight of a wife and child. Now he had to sleep in the bed he had made. The same way Kuba had to live with everything he had just destroyed. Like father, like son, it seemed.