Read Online Love for the Luchador (A Modern Romance) by Mallory Sterling - Free Book Online

The masked técnico struggles
beneath the weight of his opponent, sweating and grunting. His eyes are fierce,
but the rudo mounting him shows no mercy.
    It
can't end like this .
    "ONE!"
    The
pinned man's eyes go steely through the mask as his breathing steadies and
muscles stretch tanned skin taut.
    "TWO!"
    With the
grace of a dancer and the strength of a beast, he moves. Art in motion, balance
and power flowing through his movements.
    The
resounding crack sounds like the report of a gunshot as his opponent's shoulder
slams into the mat.
    He is on
the rudo in a heartbeat, grappling with him as the crowd roars. Arms
find the soft flesh of a neck and lock in place. Veins bulge and tears swell as
the rudo frantically slams his hand down again and again.
    DING!
DING! DING!
    The bell
pierces the sound of the audience, sharp against the shouted praises and
curses.
    Leaping
to his feet, the victor throws his arms into the air. He turns to face the
crowd before bending down to help his opponent. He is always a gentleman
immediately after the bell, no matter how vicious the fight had been.
    The
tuxedoed announcer enters the ring and raises the victor's hand while shouting
into the microphone, " Señors and Señoritas! I am proud to present, by
way of submission, VALIENTE LUCHADOR!" The masked figure throws his
powerful arms in the air as the camera zooms to his face. All signs of emotion
are hidden behind his elaborately patterned green mask, the metallic blue
swirls glinting in the light.
    María
paused the video, holding that image on the computer screen, and she knew. The
mask changed, the name changed, but those calm brown eyes always betrayed him.
No matter the battle, those eyes always showed a sense of peace.
    Who is
this man? She wondered for the hundredth time. She bookmarked the page in
her browser under the misterio luchador folder. Subfolder Green.
Subfolder Matches. Subfolder 2003. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her
eyes, surveying the organized chaos that covered her desk. She ran search after
search while drinking her coffee amid the photos, articles, newspaper
clippings, printed web articles, and even a few old VHS tapes.
    Headlines
and notes riddled the pages. "Luchador Saves Drowning Man," "Masked Figure Seen
Saving Child from Fire," "Epic Victory at Lucha Libre Match," "Mystery Man
Helps Police," "Masked Robbers Foiled by Masked Hero,"a community piece
she had written "Unknown Luchador Rescues Cat from Tree," and a dozen others.
    None of
it answered the question she had been asking since that one night, still fresh in
her mind as if it had happened yesterday.
    ––––––––
    It was a
pleasant December night in Cuernavaca. The traditional Nochebuena feast
at her parents' house was in full swing even at midnight. Ponche Navideño flowed freely, spicing the air with the aroma of fruit, raw sugar cane,
cinnamon, nutmeg, and brandy as they celebrated the eve of the birth of Jesus
Christo . Family rules meant no heels and no suits. Tonight was for comfort
and family, New Year's Eve was for dressing to impress and going out on the
town.
    Midnight
came and went, another year where the festivities went into the late hours of
the night. Another year skipping Misa de Gallo , midnight mass, despite
their best intentions. Her 24th Christmas Eve.
    At the
end of the night, she had rejected her mother's offer to sleep in her old room.
She had also rejected her brother's offer to call a cab. She would see all of
them soon enough, when the family gathered on January 6th to celebrate the end
of the holiday season. The night was beautiful, she was feeling good, and she
wanted nothing more than to end the night with a walk through the city, even if
it was just the few kilometers to her apartment.
    She had
walked this route a hundred times before. She cut through the
decoration-covered zócalo , appreciating the poinsettias that turned the
central plaza into a brilliant display of holiday cheer.
    She had
grown up here,