Literally seconds later, her cell phone rang.
“Hey, it’s me,” Drew said, his words clipped, since everything he did was rushed, including how he pronounced things.
“I just sent you an email,” she began.
“No shit. You think it’s a coincidence I called just now? Tell me the details.”
She could hear him breathing through his nostrils into the phone. Drew Ellis was intimidating and frightening. He was not just powerful in the fight industry, but he was also rich and famous. She’d only met him a handful of times, and Krista was desperate not to upset him.
Drew was even scarier when he was angry. She’d seen him make a grown man cry her first day on the job and that had told her all she needed to know about pissing off the boss.
She started to explain everything that had happened when she’d first met Gunner, but Drew rushed her along, not wanting to hear about the dog almost biting her or any of the little things that had occurred.
It was when she got to the part where she’d claimed to be a journalist that he stopped her cold.
“Wait, back up,” Drew said. “You told him you’re a journalist?”
She bit her lip, waiting to be fired. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You were supposed to go there as a representative of the UFF and try to talk some sense to this fool.”
“I know, but if you’d seen the look on his face…”
“So what’s your plan, then? Do you even have one?” Drew said.
Krista was sweating as she tried to put it into words. “I thought that maybe if he started to trust me, you know…maybe I could find a way to slowly talk him into going back to Las Vegas. He seemed receptive to talking to me as a journalist. We’re meeting tomorrow morning,” she said, hoping to show that the trip hadn’t been a complete bust as of yet.
There was a long silence. She waited again to be fired, or at least screamed at for being a complete idiot and ignoring her orders.
“You know what?” Drew said, finally, giggling. “I actually kind of love it.
That’s creative. Very creative.” He giggled some more. “If I’d known how manipulative and devious you were when I hired you, I’d have paid you more,” Drew laughed.
Krista tried to smile, but she didn’t really like the tone of Drew’s compliment. “I intend to come clean with him eventually,” she said.
“Oh, sure. That’ll go over great.”
“I’m going to tell him eventually. But first I need him to let his guard down a little.”
“Whatever it takes,” Drew said.
“Sure, just so long as I don’t cross any more lines,” she said. “I feel bad enough that I lied to him about being a journalist.”
“Listen, we’re going to lose millions on the pay-per-view that he backed out of.
Millions. People are going to lose their jobs. Heads will roll. And nobody’s going to get it worse than Gunner King, if he keeps going down this road he’s on. You’re doing him a fucking favor, Krista.”
“I know, but I feel bad—“
“Feeling bad is a waste of time. You went with your instincts, and they must have been good, because he agreed to talk to you, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, then—whatever it takes. Do whatever it takes.”
“Yeah, of course. Now, if for some reason I can’t get him to go back to Vegas to fight—“
“If you can’t get Gunner back, you best not come back either.”
She sat there, stunned. There was silence on the other end. “Are you serious, Drew?” she asked.
“I’m dead fucking serious. Come back with Gunner, or find another line of work, Krista. It’s pretty simple. Whatever it takes.” And then he hung up on her.
***
That night, she had a dream.
She’d fallen into a pit of quicksand in the jungle. Only, it couldn’t have really been the jungle, because her parents were sitting on the couch watching her struggle. Her dad had a TV remote and was trying to change the channel. “Why won’t she get out of there?” he asked.
Krista’s mother just shook her head and closed her eyes. “Turn it, I hate watching people drown!” she cried.
Meanwhile, Krista was already up to her chest in quicksand, and the dark, thick mud was slowly sucking her down. She was terrified, but tried to keep calm.
Somewhere, she remembered hearing that the more you struggled, the quicker you were submerged.
She tried to struggle less, but the urge to fight and scream and thrash was almost overpowering.
She couldn’t see him, but she heard Drew Ellis giggling, his voice echoing as if from above her somewhere.
And then Gunner King was standing there, dressed the same as he’d been when she’d seen him that day—jeans, work boots, white t-shirt. “Give me your hand,” he said.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m stuck.”
“I’ll come in after you,” he told her. “Hold on.”
But she was sinking quickly, now. The quicksand was at her neck, and then moments later, her chin. She was going to scream soon.
Gunner dove into the quicksand, headfirst. She was terrified that he was going to drown doing that, but somehow, he was able to swim and soon his arms were wrapping around her. She’d never felt arms so strong and protective before. As he pulled her out of the swamp, she cried in gratitude.
“Don’t you know I’d do anything for you?” he whispered in her ear.
“I have something to tell you,” she said.
“It’s okay, I know what you did.”
“You do?”
His hand caressed her cheek softly. “Just be careful, Krista. I might not be here next time to save you.”
And then he walked away, and as he faded into the darkness of the jungle, she tried to run after him, and in doing so, fell into another swamp. This time, as
