Stone Cold Knockout

by Lavender Parker

  Licking her fingers clean, she put the cake back in the fridge and went into the living room. She slumped on the couch and turned on the TV. Flicking through channel after channel, she finally settled on a true crime show. She let her mind wander as the show went on. Even though she had stopped actively trying to remember the days, weeks, and possible months that she had lost, she still couldn't help thinking about Mikhail. She hadn't seen him since that day in the hospital. He had left without saying goodbye, and for some reason, it irked her. Sometimes a memory would come back to her, a little slip of a moment in time, and she wanted to ask him about them. For instance, she remembered meeting him at a restaurant named Tsar, but she didn't know when that had happened, or what they had talked about. It was just a flash of a memory, really. She remembered how Mikhail had sat next to her, his shoulder brushing hers. She remembered the feel of his hand on her thigh...

  But that was all.

  There were other memories too, but nothing substantial. Nothing that would help her piece her life back together. It was like putting together a puzzle—she had a few pieces matched, on the corners and the sides, but the center was still a big gaping hole. She had a feeling Mikhail was the one that could help her figure it all out. Unfortunately, Big J had her locked down. She didn't even know where her purse was, or her car, for that matter. She couldn't escape if she wanted to.

  The front door opened, interrupting her thoughts. Gennifer jumped, then caught herself as Brandon entered. He shut the door lightly behind him and then jumped himself when he saw her sitting on the couch.

  “Where the hell have you been, out so late?” Gennifer asked, sitting forward. The boy shrugged, and glanced up the dark stairs.

  “They asleep?” he asked.

  “If you mean Big J and Maria, yes.”

  “Cool. So they don't have to know I was out late,” he said, eyeing her like the little con artist he was.

  “No, I think they do.” Gennifer crossed her arms over her chest. “Where were you?”

  “Out,” the kid said, staring back at her with the same stubborn look she probably had on her face. Gennifer narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Did you get something to eat, at least?” she asked. “There's leftovers from dinner. I'll heat them up for you if you want.”

  “Naw, G. I ate,” he said, his defensive stance softening. “But thanks.”

  “So where were you?” she pushed again.

  “Goddamn. At the movies. You happy now?”

  “What did you see?”

  “You are worse than Big J, you know that?” he asked, scowling.

  “I take that as a compliment. Now go to bed.” Gennifer leaned back on the couch, turning her eyes back to the TV.

  “You know that white guy is outside, looking for you.”

  “What? What white guy?” Gennifer said, sitting up straight again, her heart suddenly beating out of her chest.

  “Your white guy. Mikhail.” Brandon shrugged. “He's been out there every night this week.”

  “Shit.” Gennifer went to the window and threw open the heavy curtain. She couldn't see anything, just an empty street lined with cars.

  “So you don't tell Big J I was out late, and I won't tell him about Mikhail. Deal?” Brandon asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

  “Go to bed,” Gennifer said, already on her way to the front door. She opened it and stepped out onto the threshold, eyes darting around the seemingly empty street. She slid on a pair of Yasmine's flip-flops and walked outside, closing the door behind her. She was only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts, but she didn't care. At that moment, she could only concentrate on Mikhail.

  Her heart caught in her throat when a dark figure emerged from the shadows.

  “Mikhail?” she whispered, biting her lip.

  “Hello, Gennifer,” he said, finally stepping into the light. His face was handsomer than she remembered, she realized, even though his beard was fuller. There was something about his eyes that immediately drew her in. She stepped out into the middle of the quiet street, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He met her halfway, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants.

  “Were you just going to stand out here all night or were you going to come say hello?” she asked, goosebumps rising on her arms despite the muggy late summer night.

  “I have been looking at that window for the past hour,” he said, pointing at the window of the room she shared with Yasmine and Tiny. The light was still on. “Knowing you were in there, still awake. I was hoping you would come out, eventually.”

  “Why?” Gennifer asked. “Did Big J tell you to stay away from me?”

  “He is worried about you,” Mikhail said, simply.

  “Well, I'm fine. The tremor is gone and the doctors say I can go back to work next week.”

  “But you still do not remember.” He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching like he was trying to stop himself from saying more.

  “No,” she admitted, dropping her eyes to the pavement. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her nipples tightened under the thin cotton of her shirt as he leaned in closer, but he didn't speak. She wanted him to touch her, she realized. She remembered how he had caressed her at the hospital and she wanted more of that. She wanted more of him.

  “I have something for you,” he said after a moment, breaking the heavy silence. He turned and walked back to a bike that was parked under a tree. He pulled her something out of one of the side-bags on the bike and then turned back to her.

  “My purse!” Gennifer clutched the black designer leather bag to her chest in gratitude. “I was worried I'd left it at House of Pain or something.” She opened the bag and dug around inside. Her phone, wallet, and house keys were all there. “Oh my God. Now I can go home. I've been craving my own bed for the last five days,” she said, smiling wide at Mikhail. He didn't smile back. He worked his jaw, chewing gum, silently. “Wait,” Gennifer said, her brow furrowing as she realized something was missing. “Where are my car keys?”

  “I have them,” he said, with a slight shrug.

  “And my car?”

  “It is parked in my garage, safe and sound.”

  “I need my car,” Gennifer said, a warning bell ringing low in her brain. What the hell kind of game was the Russian playing?

  “And you will have it.”

  “I can drive, my doctors signed off on it.”

  “Come and get it,” he said, shrugging again. Gennifer stared up at him for a moment, annoyance building.

  “That's stealing, you know? You can't steal my car.”

  “I did not steal. You gave me the keys and told me to drive you to my apartment after Bout It. I did so, and parked the car in my garage. Where it remains.”

  “I let you drive my car?!” Gennifer hissed, incredulous. “That doesn't sound like me.”

  “That is why I thought, at the time,” he said, his eyes glittering in the low light. “Obviously, you were not in your right mind.” His mouth ticked slightly, and she realized he thought the situation was humorous. Asshole! Slinging the strap of her purse over her arm, she stepped closer to him, pointing her finger at his chest.

  “I want my car,” she said, slowly so he could understand her.

  “Come home with me,” he said, staring down at her intensely, all humor gone.

  “And if I don't come home with you?”

  “You car will stay in my garage.”

  “You can't do that.”

  “Do not make me.” He grabbed her hips so suddenly that she gasped. He pulled her into him, her soft chest smashing against his hard and unyielding one. She let out a slow breath, trying to keep her wits about her. “I cannot live without you, solnyshka. I need you,” he whispered, his voice straining. “Do not make me sleep alone for another night.” Gennifer could barely breathe at his words. She closed her eyes, wanting to remember so badly. She could feel his desperation and it scared her. His intensity was too much to bear.

  “Let me go,” s
he whispered, refusing to raise her eyes to meet his. He swung her around, pressing her back against a parked car. She moaned as he ran his hand underneath her shirt and cupped her right breast. She arched her back into his touch. She felt out of control. Her head was spinning with so many questions, but she didn't have any answers.

  “I have had every part of you. Your pussy. Your mouth. Your ass. You love fucking my big cock. Let me show you how much you love it," he said, his words filling her brain and pushing all other thoughts out. “I love fucking you, Gennifer,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across her nipple like a caress. “I love making you come. I love making you scream.” He pressed his lips to her neck and she shivered. “Let me show you.”

  "I have to... I have to go back inside," she stammered, needing to feel in control of something. Mikhail was too much for her to handle. The thought of fucking him made her whole body clench from head to toe, but she was overwhelmed by him. If she fucked him, she had no idea what would happen. The mere thought was terrifying.

  "Do not act like a shy virgin, solnyshka. It does not suit you," he said and she could hear anger in his words. Good. She could deal with anger. Anger was one emotion she could definitely handle.

  "Being a cocky asshole doesn't suit you either," she hissed, shoving him until he took a step back.

  "You never had problem before." His accent thickened as anger came over his face like a shadow.

  "Well that was then, this is now." She shook off the raging lust and focused on her own anger. "I want my car. You can't keep holding it hostage."

  "Come with me right now and you can have it."

  "I'm not going near your apartment!"

  "Why?" He was on her again in a flash, pinning her against the car. "Why are you afraid of me?”

  “I'm not afraid of you,” she said, lying through her teeth.

  “Nothing can keep me from you,” he said, and she could feel the pain in his words. She just couldn't handle it.

  "Oh yeah?" she challenged, getting in his face. "If I see you out here again, I'm calling Tate to come arrest your ass."

  "Do it." He dropped his face so that his mouth was inches from hers. "I beg you."

  "I hate you," she whispered, her eyes locked on his lips.

  "You lie," he said, and he leaned in even closer, his mouth centimeters away. His breath smelled like mint, she realized, and a memory budded in the base of her brain. Just as it was taking root, he thrust his hand between her legs, unexpectedly. She gasped as her thighs clenched around him involuntarily. His fingers pushed past her little shorts, finding her wet and ready for him. She raised her eyes to meet his as he slid two long fingers inside of her. He pumped them in and out slowly and she moaned at the heavenly sensation.

  He captured her lips with his, kissing her roughly as he fingered her. The world around them faded away and for a moment, she let the raw pleasure sweep her up. She kissed him back, not caring that she didn't know him. He kissed her like he knew her. He kissed her like he knew everything she liked and would give it to her if she let him. Just as she was about to let go, he broke the kiss and pulled his fingers free of her at the same time. The real world came crashing back and she felt the anger rise again. He lifted his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. He was teasing her, she realized. He was trying to confuse her even more.

  Without thinking, she punched him, hard. The sound of flesh meeting flesh rang in her ears, and his face snapped to the side with the force of the impact. Time stopped for a minute and she wished she could take it back, but she couldn't. She didn't know what was happening to her, but her emotions were all jumbled up inside of her. Mikhail took a step back, his face unreadable. She avoided his eyes, afraid of what she might find there.

  "I don't want to see you," she said, her voice low and miserable. "I just want my car." Then she turned and ran back into the safety of Big J's house. She closed the door lightly behind her and sank to the floor in the foyer, feeling like she was in shock. She wanted the Russian, there was no denying it. But mostly, more than anything, she wanted all of her memories back. She wanted everything to stop being so confusing and for life to go back to normal. Unfortunately, normalcy didn't look like it was going return any time soon.

  ***

  Mikhail stared after the love of his life as she ran away from him and cursed himself. He only had himself to blame. He was so impatient to have Gennifer back that he'd gone and ruined everything. For both of their sakes, he knew he would have to back away. He would have to give her space. A sharp pain shot through his chest at the thought of letting her go. He wasn't ready to do it yet, but he knew he would have to soon. Otherwise, he might ruin any chance he had.

  He straddled his bike, but he didn't start the engine. He stared up at her window, waiting. Eventually the light, tinted pink by the curtains that covered the window, would go out. For the past three nights, since she'd been at Big Jimmy's house, he'd waited for that light to go out. He didn't know why, but it comforted him, somehow. If he couldn't have her with him, at least he knew where she was. He knew she was safe.

  His cellphone vibrated in his jacket pocket, and he pulled it out. It was a text from Tate. The message contained a single address, but Mikhail felt his lungs constrict. Anger slithered through the pain in his chest, like a poisonous snake. Adrenaline shot through him and he welcomed it. He was about to kick some ass, and he needed all the fire he could muster. He clenched his jaw and winced at the pain. He lifted his hand to his face, impressed at the force behind Gennifer's punch. His solnyshka still remembered how he'd taught her to fight. She was still a fighter.

  Unfortunately, he was a fighter too, and doggedly focused on winning. The only prize he wanted was her, but he would settle for making Donny pay for ever touching her. The zhopa was on his shit-list, but for five days he hadn't been able to find him. With Tate's help, now he knew exactly where he was.

  He memorized the address and then slid his phone back into his pocket. Donny could wait. He turned his eyes back to the window. The light still burned bright. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his roll of cotton and began to wrap his hands. He knew that he was about to cross a line that he swore he was never going to cross again. He knew he was letting himself go down a dangerous path, but he didn't know what else he could do.

  He couldn't let Donny get away with what he'd done.

  How could he, when it was still causing Gennifer so much pain? He could see how scared and unhappy she was. It killed him to see her like that.

  His decision made, he flexed his wrapped fingers. He glanced up at the window again, his veins pulsing with energy. When the window finally went dark, he let out a slow breath. He knew what he had to do. He cranked the engine and his bike roared to life. He mumbled a quick prayer to himself, then took off down the street, ready for violence.

  Chapter 20

  The sun was threatening to rise over the East River when Mikhail returned home, hours later. He stripped himself of his sweat-dampened and blood-stained clothes in the foyer. He walked past her car keys on the table. In the bedroom, he ignored her clothes, littered on the floor. He stopped in front of the bed. Her blood still stained the wrinkled white sheets. He yanked on them, tearing them from the mattress, balling them up in his numb and blood-caked hands. He had at least one broken finger, but he ignored the pain. He held the sheets to his face, breathing in her scent. He collapsed on the mattress, curling around the sheets, blood from the gash above his eyebrow now mingling with hers on the white fabric. He felt like he'd been put through a meat grinder and came out on the other side, raw and broken.

  The look on Donny's face as he met Mikhail's fist was imprinted on Mikhail's mind. He'd been as surprised as Mikhail had been angry. As soon as the first punch busted his nose, he knew. He knew exactly why Mikhail had come for him. He fought back, but he was no match for Mikhail's violent urge. Mikhail had stopped himself before it went to far... but it had been difficult.

  It also hadn
't worked.

  He was just as angry and unsatisfied as before. Maybe more. His apartment was still empty. His bed was still cold. He didn't know how he would go without Gennifer for another night. He lay awake for hours, tangling the sheets around his body until they no longer smelled like her. He fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of blood and gore and violence.

  He woke a few hours later, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. He took a quick shower and washed off the stink and dried blood of the night before. He wrapped up his broken finger and bandaged the gash on his head. He dropped the sheets by the stacked washer and dryer, leaving them for the cleaning lady. Then he found his phone and ignored the two new messages from Hector. He quickly dialed a number he knew from heart. It rang twice.

  “You fucking son of a bitch.” No pleasantries, just gruff Russian from his brother Nicholai. He sounded pissed and Mikhail didn't blame him. Mikhail had left him in the lurch a year ago, when he retired abruptly. But that was past, and now he needed his older brother. “What the hell do you want, Misha?”

  “You are not happy to hear from me, brother?” he said.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that it is time to get back to work.”

  “It will not be as simple as that. You left at the top of your game, and now you want to reemerge as a returning champion? Not going to happen.” Nicholai sounded smug, and Mikhail knew he was right. But he didn't care about that. He had to fight, or he was going to go crazy. That's all he knew.