Rules of Revenge

by AJ Quinn

  The artwork was beautiful. The effect…erotic.

  But when the hell did she do that?

  *

  The announcer introduced Darien’s opponent, Rogue, while Darien continued to walk around the cage, her movements slow, measured. In control. Feeling the canvas floor beneath her feet, she knew from experience the one inch of padding would provide almost no protection when she went down.

  Best not go down too often, then.

  In Yuri’s arena, there were no niceties. This was strictly a blood sport, designed to entertain his criminal underworld customers and provide a venue that encouraged them to drink and gamble. There were no trainers in each corner calling out last-minute instructions. No handshakes in the middle of the cage.

  The announcer directed the fighters to their corners and blew a whistle to start a fight that would continue until one of the participants dropped and was unable to get up again. No other rules were considered necessary.

  Rogue, dark haired, big, and muscular, came at her in a traditional approach. Circling, jabbing. Testing. After watching her for a few seconds, Darien decided she had no interest in prolonging this match. That dictated her best response would be to fall back on her Krav Maga training and finish the fight as quickly as possible.

  Rogue swung first, throwing a hard strike. Darien watched her and calmly wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. She spun out of the way from the next meaty fist, easily dodging what could well have been a teeth-rattling blow. And when Rogue followed with yet another blow, she pivoted and came up under it, hitting her hard. Rogue stumbled back, appeared momentarily confused and disoriented, but gamely fought through it.

  The bright lights prevented Darien from seeing the audience, but she heard them howl their approval. She felt it stir her blood, became energized by it. She didn’t feel it when Rogue kicked her in the ribs. What she felt was a profound sense of freedom, a liberation she always experienced in the ring. She parried Rogue’s next blow and got in a combination of well-placed strikes of her own.

  She focused on timing her next move. She seized an opening and responded with a flying roundhouse kick. It was not necessarily the hardest blow she’d landed. But the moment she connected with Rogue’s head, she knew it was the only one that mattered.

  The kick was perfectly placed. It lifted her opponent off her feet and dropped her hard to the canvas, where she remained. Motionless. The crowd responded with a deafening roar and began chanting, Ari, Ari, louder and louder in appreciation.

  It took Darien several seconds to realize the match was over. The cage attendants materialized and carried the unconscious Rogue away but closed the gate behind them, leaving her trapped inside.

  Uncertain, feeling a flicker of unease mix with temper, she tried to see beyond the lights. Tried to figure out what was happening. Several minutes passed, and as she circled the perimeter of the cage, she heard the gate open and turned to see an angry-looking tattooed giant enter. Heard the gate close behind him.

  This can’t be good.

  Approaching the side of the cage where she’d left Jessie seated, she saw Nikolai standing behind her, leaning casually against her chair, his hands on either side of Jessie’s shoulders. “What’s going on, Nikolai?”

  The big Russian shrugged. “The boss isn’t happy you took his champion out so easily. Some important people have lost a lot of money.”

  “Then they shouldn’t have bet against me.”

  Nikolai nodded. “There’s that, but it’s not enough. The boss said to tell you he’ll double your cut if you take on one more challenger.”

  Darien’s temper rapidly approached flash point. What Yuri wanted—no, what he clearly desperately needed—was one big moneymaker match tonight. For himself and for his special customers. He was counting on it being her. “He’s already doubled my cut and I’m not interested in any more challenges. I didn’t come intending to fight.”

  “Maybe not, but right now, it doesn’t really matter what you intended. You know how this is played, Ari.”

  The message was clear, and she had mere seconds in which to make up her mind.

  She needed access to Yuri, needed information and contacts potentially only he could provide, and if she wanted to talk to him, he was leaving her no choice but to give in to him on this. Not that it mattered, because she knew she wasn’t getting out of the cage until she agreed.

  “All right, what challenge are we talking about?”

  “Turn around and meet Cyborg. Your challenge.”

  Not normally one to turn down a challenge, Darien stared at Nikolai. “Tell Yuri this isn’t funny.”

  Nikolai shrugged once again, almost apologetically, as if to indicate he had no choice. He was simply carrying out the instructions his boss had given.

  A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the aptly named Cyborg was still there. Staring at her, measuring her, while bouncing on the balls of his feet. And if the expression on his face was any indication, finding her to be a less than worthy opponent.

  Darien’s chin lifted and she returned the evaluation.

  Cyborg was at least six inches taller than she was and looked to outweigh her by well over a hundred pounds. He showed signs of habitual steroid use, which would potentially make him more aggressive. He was also either angry because he was being forced to fight a woman and was planning to take her apart. Or he was happy to have the opportunity to go up against Ari’s skill and reputation and was planning to take her apart.

  Neither option left her feeling particularly comfortable with the turn of events.

  She knew she had speed, while Cyborg clearly had strength. But if she was going to survive the next few minutes, she would need to throw him off balance because she really hated to lose, and she wasn’t going down without giving it her all.

  Deliberately turning her back to him, she called out to Jessie, “Jessie, baby, could you do me a favor? Have Nikolai place a small wager for me. Say, twenty thousand on me to win.”

  Jessie’s eyes widened while, behind her, Darien could hear Cyborg growl. “You think you’re going to win against me? A skinny little bitch like you? You’re one crazy mother, aren’t you?”

  His accent placed him as British. Of course, the Union Jack tattooed over his heart might have given that away sooner if she’d been paying attention. Not that it mattered.

  “That’s right,” Darien responded with a laugh. “I’m crazy. Jessie, baby, make that fifty thousand. And if you’re good, I’ll use my winnings to buy you something pretty. Would you like that?”

  There was no whistle this time to start the fight. The look of horror on Jessie’s face told her all she needed to know.

  She turned in time to meet Cyborg’s fist as he landed a hard blow to her face. She felt no pain, and the blow staggered her long enough for him to grab her and lift her off her feet. His face inches from her own, he used arms as thick as tree trunks to squeeze her ribs until she was positive she felt them pop. He squeezed until she could no longer breathe, and then he squeezed some more before he sent her flying violently as he body-slammed her to the canvas.

  Darien groaned, struggled for a breath, and staggered to her feet, only to take a roundhouse kick to the side of her head. She had wanted to make him angry and off balance with her comments. Had hoped it might give her an opening she could use to her advantage. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen. What she got instead was a world of hurt, and there was blood dripping into her right eye.

  Time to change tactics.

  She knew she’d taken damage, but she’d fought through worse. As Cyborg delivered another powerful strike to her side, she focused on the crowd, felt their frenetic energy, and used it to boost what little adrenaline she had into overdrive. With her breath ragged and the taste of blood in her mouth, she let her mind go blank. And in an animalistic reaction, right down to the snarl in her throat, she became the street fighter she normally kept under tight control. Doing whatever worked. Fighting coldl
y, relentlessly, her fists and feet merciless.

  The shift in her approach momentarily confused her opponent and had him watching her warily. He crouched as he moved forward and began to circle. She responded by bringing her fist up hard and fast, an uppercut to the jaw that snapped his head back, then hit him twice more before he dropped.

  He was back up quickly enough, blocked her next strike, and followed through with an elbow of his own that made a solid connection with her head. Twice she was slammed hard enough to make her ears ring as she was sent skidding on the mat.

  Having met with some success, Cyborg came back with the same move, clearly working on the premise that if something worked once, keep doing it. But as Darien knew only too well, in a street fight predictability could get you killed. When he picked her up, this time she was ready for him.

  Damn. This is going to hurt.

  Timing it just right, she caught him flush with a head butt. Shifting her weight, she followed through by driving her knee up into his groin. Hard.

  He bellowed and dropped her like a stone, doubled over as he clutched himself. Fighting to stay on her feet long enough, Darien sent a kick to his head. Watched his eyes roll back as he fell before dropping to her knees. But she didn’t have to worry because Cyborg wasn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

  It was over.

  Chapter Ten

  Jessie stood and watched Darien move to the side of the cage and reach for the netting to hold herself steady. That she was hurting wasn’t in question. Her eyes were nearly all pupil, dilated with pain. One eye was already swollen, her lip was bleeding, and she was holding a hand to her ribs. Damage was also evident in the way she moved, if you were looking for it. Stiffly. Carefully. Lacking the smooth and fluid motion Jessie already associated with her.

  But, obviously, it wasn’t enough that she had somehow defied the odds and won. It was also apparent she had no intention of letting anyone see how badly she hurt. Probably doesn’t fit with Ari’s persona.

  She wished there was something she could do to help, but she could only watch and wait for an opportunity to get her out of here. When two attendants arrived to carry out the barely conscious Cyborg, Darien followed them out of the cage and dropped into the seat Jessie had vacated.

  “You’re going to have one hell of a bruise,” Jessie said, lightly skimming her fingertips along Darien’s cheek.

  “I’ve had them before. I’ll live.” Speaking seemed to take too much effort and Darien bent over, resting her hands on her knees while trying to catch her breath. “Can you help me get dressed? I don’t want to meet with Yuri like this. Impressions are critical to keeping Ari’s reputation intact, and Yuri needs to believe I’m capable of delivering.”

  “Understood.”

  It took several minutes, but between the two of them, they managed to get Darien back into her clothes. While she was dressing, Nikolai returned with a damp cloth, which Jessie used to clean up Darien’s face. She was relieved to find most of the blood wasn’t hers. But she could do nothing about the rapidly forming bruises and the other obvious damage the battles in the cage had left behind. She didn’t even want to think about the injuries that weren’t visible.

  Nikolai appeared to share her concern. “Ari, why don’t I have the doctor check you out?”

  “No, I’m good. It’s not as bad as it looks. Let’s go see Yuri. If I need to, I’ll get checked out after I leave here.”

  Jessie wanted to argue, thinking that having a doctor check Darien out sooner rather than later made a great deal of sense. But then she realized they’d been speaking in Russian and she wasn’t supposed to understand. Swearing silently, she bit her lip and promised herself she’d make sure Darien got medical attention as soon as they got out of Oz. Someone—Zoey or Ben—would surely know a doctor she could call.

  She remained silent as she helped Darien regain her feet and slipped an arm around her waist, aware of just how much Darien was leaning on her for support. But she didn’t say a word as Nikolai led them back up the stairs and to the second level where Yuri kept his office.

  Yuri Berezin proved to be nothing like Jessie expected. In his midfifties, he was pale, tall, and elegantly slim, with a lion’s mane of red-gold hair and light blue eyes. He walked over to them as they entered his office, both arms extended.

  “Ari.” There was obvious pleasure in his voice, but when his lips brushed both of Darien’s cheeks, she winced, and he immediately looked dismayed.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” she said as she drew back.

  Yuri gave a dismissive wave of his hand in Nikolai’s direction, and after the bouncer left, he tipped Darien’s face up with a fingertip. “Please sit. I’m sorry you were hurt tonight. But you cost several of my regular customers a great deal of money when you defeated Rogue so easily, and they were looking for blood. If I hadn’t offered them yours, they would have come looking for mine. It was just business—I trust you understand.”

  Darien shrugged and eased her body into a chair. “I’m fine, Yuri. Nothing for you to worry about. But quid pro quo. I helped you out with your customers tonight. Now I’d like your assistance in return.”

  Yuri remained silent and looked at Jessie. Darien clearly followed his thinking and released a soft sigh. “Don’t worry about my beautiful Jessie. Although she only speaks English, I find I’ve grown quite fond of her. But then, I don’t keep her around for conversation.”

  “You surprise me, Ari. I wouldn’t have thought you to be sentimental.”

  “Sometimes, I surprise myself,” she responded wryly.

  “Love can make fools of us all.” Yuri laughed while Jessie fought back the urge to throttle them both. “Tell me how I can help.”

  Darien leaned back, hissed, and drew in a breath. “I need a contact.”

  “Tell me who you wish to meet and I will make it happen.”

  “I want to meet the head of a group that calls itself the Guild.”

  Yuri’s expression darkened and his posture changed almost immediately. “The Guild?”

  Darien nodded. “The original organization is old, from nearly twenty years ago. A merger of sorts brought about when the heads of three splinter groups came together as one. They set up their base in Prague and were initially bent on funding the destabilization of Russia, but by the time they disappeared, around five years later, they’d expanded their sights to financing groups targeting a number of Western interests.”

  “I remember them. Why does this long-dead group interest you?”

  “Because they’re no longer dead. Someone has resuscitated them.”

  “Are you certain about this?”

  “Quite certain. A couple of days ago, someone sent a message to the media on behalf of the Guild claiming responsibility for the missile strikes that brought down the three passenger jets that everyone’s talking about. The ones that have been all over the news.”

  The air rippled with an undercurrent as a muscle in Yuri’s cheek began to spasm and his already pale face became bloodless. “I have seen the papers, but they are filled with rumors. Unfounded allegations.”

  “Yes, but now there is a new rumor circulating. Someone is trying to buy more missiles and I have no doubt it will prove to be connected to the Guild.”

  Something in the set of Yuri’s body changed again and his expression became guarded. “What is it you’re asking, Ari?”

  She met his gaze steadily. “I want you to get me an introduction, Yuri. I want a chance to broker the weapons.”

  “I thought you dealt primarily in small arms. Assault rifles and occasional RPGs.”

  “I do. But I find I’ve become more ambitious, and given the opportunity, I believe I can provide anything. I have recently gained access to missiles including American-made Stingers and TOWs, and Russian RPG-7s.” Darien fell silent and Jessie could tell she was watching Yuri closely, gauging his reactions. That Yuri knew something was obvious. Jessie could see it in his eyes.

  “These are d
angerous people,” Yuri said after a lengthy silence. “This connection you seek, she is crazy, I think, and not someone you want to be doing business with. Not if you want to live to do business another day. You need to think this through, Ari. If it’s more business you want, I can introduce you to others. For a small commission, I can get you all the business you can handle. But this…what you ask—”

  “I need this, Yuri, or I wouldn’t ask,” Darien said. “Introduce me to your contact at the Guild. I will make it more than worth your while.”

  He made them wait the length of several heartbeats while he mulled over his decision, and until he actually spoke, Jessie was uncertain which way it would go. But finally, with more resignation than enthusiasm, Yuri nodded. “I cannot promise anything, but I will see what I can arrange for you.”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  “I will make some calls and get back to you. Will you be available through the usual channels?”

  “Yes.” Darien rose to her feet. And though she tried not to show it, Jessie could see the night’s events had taken their toll on her. She was clearly exhausted and moving slowly, sluggishly as they left Yuri’s office.

  It wasn’t until they were completely out of the building that Jessie felt a measure of relief. She welcomed the kiss of the cool early morning air against her flushed face. But she remembered what Darien had said about external cameras and remained silent, helping Darien remain on her feet while they waited for Zoey to bring the car.

  Zoey’s anger shimmered visibly as soon as she saw the condition Darien was in. But to the girl’s credit, she didn’t say a word. She merely helped Jessie get Darien settled in the backseat of the Mercedes, then got back in the driver’s seat.

  Darien briefly murmured her thanks, leaned her head back, and fell silent as Zoey eased the car away from Oz. She didn’t say anything else until a short time later when, clearly hanging on to the last vestige of control, she asked Zoey to pull over. Zoey responded immediately without question, but even then, Darien barely made it out of the car before she stumbled to the side of the road. Falling to her knees, she was violently and wretchedly ill.