“Thank you.” Alena turned her gaze back to the cage just as the two men started dancing around in their usual early circle—sizing each other up and plotting.
Ivan waited, bouncing on his feet as he let the other man—Stephan “The Damager” Blanc—make the first move.
The second Stephan threw a jab, Ivan thrust his entire body weight forward to block the guy.
Alena wiggled out of Mikhail’s grip to step to the right so she could see between the patrons better. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have strength in numbers to protect her tonight. Nikolav stood nearly elbow to elbow with Mikhail, holding Belinda in a death grip and keeping a hand on Katie.
Leo had already fought a few matches ago, so Katie was more relaxed.
Alena glanced around the room and quickly found Taylor working her way through the crowd toward them.
There was no doubt the room held at least four other agents. There was also no doubt Yenin had men in place. Even though he kept losing some of his employees to stupidity, he never stopped hiring replacements.
The only people Alena didn’t want to see at the fight were those goons from Russia whom she now knew worked for the FSB. Nothing about that situation sat well with her. If those assholes wanted her badly enough to abduct her a year and a half ago, she knew they weren’t coincidentally in Chicago and present at every location Alena happened to visit.
No. They were up to something. Too bad no one knew exactly what that might be.
While Ivan and Blanc continued to bounce around the cage, Taylor stepped up beside Alena. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“It goes without saying I would rather you and Belinda had stayed in the safe house.”
“I know.”
Belinda leaned around Alena and gave Taylor’s forearm a squeeze.
“You fools are like open targets here at this fight,” Taylor continued.
Alena didn’t take her gaze off Ivan as he thrust forward again, knocking Blanc against the fence. The guy bounced back slowly, scowling. Determined. “I’d be crawling out of my skin right now if I weren’t here watching Ivan fight.”
“I get that. I do. But spending large amounts of time in a crowded public place is not currently a good plan. I know in the past we’ve handled it, but the stakes are getting higher. Yenin is undoubtedly up in flames.”
Alena shot a quick glance around. “This room is crawling with FBI.”
“This room is also crawling with the unknown, including the FSB,” Taylor leaned in to mutter quietly in Alena’s ear.
Alena flinched. She knew that, but she hated to dwell on it. If she set her eyes on the men who abducted her in Russia… Geez, her knees would buckle. Hopefully they had chosen to stay outside in their car. It was probable they couldn’t get into the fight anyway without an invitation.
Yenin had connections. He could get anyone an invitation. The FSB? Perhaps not.
Alena shot her gaze toward Blanc as he spun around and kicked Ivan in the side. Blanc had full sleeves of tattoos on his arms that stretched across his shoulders and down his back. He also had a scar on his right pec—a long jagged scar that had either been acquired from something horrific or not stitched together by a professional.
His skin and hair were darker than Ivan’s. And most of the women in the crowd were rooting for him. Alena hadn’t heard of him before because he’d come from out of town. Sometimes people liked to root for the underdog just to make things interesting. He had a reputation for knocking out his opponent fast.
Not today, Alena hoped. “Ivan’s not the only person fighting tonight. You know that. Leo just fought, and Sergei is up in a while. None of us like to miss the fights.”
Taylor stiffened. Her voice was a whisper when she continued, “I can appreciate that, Alena. I really can. But that leaves only Mikhail and Nikolav with you. Four of you.” She nodded behind Alena.
“And you think Yenin would make a move in this crowded room?” Mikhail asked, leaning his face between Taylor and Alena. Of course he’d been listening to the entire conversation. “It’s not like he would send someone to open fire and kill us all.”
Taylor sighed.
Mikhail was right. No matter how you sliced it, if Yenin made a move, it would be to grab someone, not to kill any of them. If the man was as close to launching his experimental drug as they all believed, he would never draw unnecessary attention to himself at an underground speakeasy filled with FBI.
Taylor faced Mikhail more fully. “Well, if any of you are going to come someplace public like this, it is easier if you all do. At least no one is sitting at home unprotected while my entire team is here watching over the rest. I’ll give you that. But I won’t be sad when this evening is over and all of you are out of the spotlight.”
Alena heard Taylor, but she didn’t take her eyes off Ivan.
He needed to be on his game. After the week he’d had, she worried he might not be able to pull it together. And she knew he was worried about her constantly, even now while he fought and she stood in the audience.
Blanc threw a left hook that nailed Ivan in the side of the head.
Alena winced.
Ivan staggered back a few steps and then shook off the punch.
Jesus, don’t let him get hurt.
Ivan pulled his fists up higher to guard himself against another hit.
Alena wondered why he was taking his sweet time. Why didn’t he take this guy out and be done with it? He usually won. He usually outplayed his opponents so fast he made them nervous.
Today was an exception.
Alena held her hand in front of her mouth in a cone and shouted, “Come on, Ivan. You’ve got this.”
There was very little chance he could hear her over the crowd, however.
She stiffened, clenching her jaw while she watched Ivan circle Blanc several times. “What are you waiting for?” she muttered to herself.
She watched closely, unable to blink, her gaze darting back and forth between Ivan and Blanc. The second Blanc lowered his arms an inch, Ivan bounced forward and landed three punches in a row to his opponent’s head.
Blanc jerked out of the way before a fourth punch could follow, but that proved to be a mistake because Ivan was prepared for that possibility and threw a left hook directly into the guy’s jaw.
Blanc spun the other direction to deflect as much of the punch as possible, but it was too late. He was off balance and unprepared for the round kick Ivan followed up with, the full thrust of his hips taking Blanc down.
The second Blanc landed on his knees, Ivan swept up behind him and got him in a choke hold. Blanc was caught off guard and trapped. Ivan was too strong for him. He had his forearm around his neck, either cutting off the airway or the blood flow. Alena had no idea which. It didn’t matter. Either way, Blanc wasn’t going to be able to struggle his way out of the situation. It was only a matter of time before he would have to tap out.
No matter how many matches Alena watched, this part didn’t get any easier. She wasn’t fond of watching her brother and his friends take out their opponents in such a brutal fashion. It was part of the game, and she understood that, she just didn’t like it.
She half covered her eyes while she waited, holding her breath as long as Blanc did.
Eventually Blanc stopped trying to pry Ivan’s arm from his neck and tapped the floor at his side.
The man was furious, however, and took only a few seconds on his hands and knees to gasp for oxygen before he climbed to his feet, scowling at Ivan as he left the cage.
Alena took deep breaths, glad the intensity was over and grateful it hadn’t gone on as long as some fights occasionally did.
»»•««
Anton snagged his phone off the bedside table and pushed to sit up. “Winston, what do you have for me?”
“You were right. All five men you sent me photos of were at that fight tonight. And every one of those women too.”
“Any other interesting players?”
<
br /> “Oh yeah. You were right about that too. Two men who had to be FSB were outside. They never got out of their car. I spotted them myself when I drove by the venue. And more FBI agents than my man could count were inside and outside. Cops too. Mostly undercover—all of them—but too obvious for my man. If you’re messed up in whatever that situation is, I’d say untangle yourself immediately.”
Anton chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be tidy?” Winston had no idea the depth of Anton’s current situation. The only way he would be able to untangle himself from that mob of people would be to successfully inject himself with his own experimental drug and take off for sights unseen.
“May I at least ask why you need to know where all those players were located tonight?”
“Because now I know where they weren’t located. Thanks, Winston.” Anton ended the call and set the phone back on his bedside table. He lay back in bed and focused on a ray of moonlight streaming across the ceiling from the slit in the blinds.
The FBI had their energy focused on the fighters and their women. The FSB did too. Maybe they did so in the hope of capturing Anton, but that would never happen. He wouldn’t be caught dead in the same location as any of those players.
Maybe the FBI simply wanted to beef up protection.
Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was knowing how much effort the FBI was putting into watching his fighters. Any time all of them were in one place, there would be little to no FBI presence elsewhere. At least no one working this case.
This information would come in handy one day. He was sure of it.
»»•««
Alena wrapped her arms around Ivan’s waist from behind and set her cheek on his shoulder blade.
Ivan set a hand over hers across his waist, but remained stiff and unmoving. His only movement was the subtle turn of his neck occasionally as he stared out the window.
She had no idea what good it was doing him to stand there watching nothing. The night was too dark to see anything particular other than the movement of headlights and the glare of the streetlights nine stories below.
“Ivan… Come to bed.”
“In a minute,” he whispered.
“What’s bothering you?” She understood the overall picture, but what had him on edge specifically tonight? It was late. After midnight. He’d won his fight hours ago. Normally he would be pumped up after winning a fight. Tonight he was serious and agitated. His brow was furrowed. He hadn’t smiled since she’d first reunited with him after the fight.
His only outward emotion at all had been to pull her into his embrace a little tighter than usual outside the locker room and breathe out slowly.
She knew he was relieved to have her back in his arms, but what was stressing him?
He twisted to one side slightly to haul her around to his front and then lowered his gaze to face her. “Nothing new. I’m just watching the cars.”
“How many are there?”
“Three, I think.”
“FBI, FSB, Yenin…” she deadpanned.
“Probably.”
“How long before Taylor gets the FSB off our butts?”
“Not sure. She’s working on it.”
“Can she do that? You think she can get them to leave the country?” The FSB made her far more nervous than any other entity out there. And rightfully so. Those bastards had brazenly held her captive for six months.
“She can. But the question is when? And how successfully? Even if the FBI or someone else escorted them to the airplane and ensured they were on a flight out of the country, they could easily come back, or the Russians could send ten other men in their place.”
She shuddered.
“I’m sorry. That’s not helping.” He gave her another squeeze, closed the blinds, and turned her toward the living room. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“Sleep?” Seriously? Did he really intend to go to sleep right now? Because the first thing on her mind wasn’t sleep. Not by a long shot.
“Alena, you have to be exhausted. You spent most of yesterday in a stressful situation, and you have a gunshot wound on your leg.” Were his hands shaking as he spoke to her?
“More like a scratch. And I slept forever last night. Stop babying me.”
Now he chuckled, which startled her at his sudden change in demeanor. “You don’t want me to baby you?”
“No,” she muttered, a little uncertain where his mind had gone.
“Fine. But here’s the thing. You seriously gave me a heart attack yesterday with your antics. I haven’t recovered enough to engage in sweet love making. My normally dominant self wants to show you what you put me through and make sure you understand that it can’t happen again.”
She cocked her head to one side, not quite sure what he was insinuating but interested in finding out. She squeezed the walls of her pussy tight, aware of her clit swelling at the same time.
Were they about to enter the realm of spanking and flogging?
She had to admit curiosity about the idea, but apprehension at the same time. When he’d first mentioned that’s where his tastes ran, she’d freaked out a little. But in the last week, she’d pondered the possibilities in her head and found herself intrigued as well as apprehensive.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to punish you in the traditional way most Doms would handle a submissive.”
“Why’s that?” She stopped walking, forcing him to explain himself. Her heart seemed to stop beating for a breath.
He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and then tucked it behind her ear. “You aren’t most submissives, Alena. Not even close. You’re not made for floggings or whips. Your personality doesn’t head down that path.”
She took several shallow breaths while he watched. Did this mean she wasn’t the sort of person he needed? She had to admit the idea of someone spanking her or striking her at all terrified her, but the idea of displeasing Ivan or losing him was worse. “You don’t know that. Maybe I can.” Her words sounded choked. What if he didn’t give her a chance? What if he simply made the decision that she wasn’t right for him and cut things off with her?
Her thoughts were wild. All over the place. She knew he loved her. He’d said so last night. But was it enough? Maybe his brooding tonight had more to do with a change of opinion than anything else.
He shook his head. “Not a chance. We’ll never know. Because I’m never going to lay a hand on you in that way.”
“But—” Panic set in.
He cut her off with a finger to her lips. “There are so many other ways I can dominate you without using any sadistic means.”
“Ivan, I…wait, what?”
His brows drew together. “Did you think I was insinuating we couldn’t be together?”
“Well, yes.”
He shook his head harder. “Not even close.” He spun her around to his front to face her more fully and cupped her cheeks. “I don’t need that. I might have thought I did. But I was wrong. I need you more. And you’re very submissive. I get everything I need from you without the urge to pinken your skin.
“What matters more is that you turn your control over to me and let me lead. Do it knowing I won’t mark your skin. I won’t. The thought actually makes me cringe.”
She frowned. How could he change his opinion on the subject so abruptly? Last week he’d told her he was more into floggings and spankings. Last week.
He shrugged, probably seeing the confusion she felt on her face. “I’m in love with you. I want you how you are. And I love your perfect, flawless, pale skin. I don’t want to see it marked. Not by me or anyone else. I can’t stand the thought of that wound on your leg.” He shuddered, still holding her face. “You’re mine. I’ve told you several times. Nothing’s going to change that. Ever.”
She stared into his eyes for long moments. Was he being truthful?
Yes.
He meant every word.
She licked her lips. “Okay.”
“That doesn�
�t change the fact that I’m itching to dominate you and show you how I feel about your actions yesterday in my own way. It just means I’m not going to do it with a palm to your ass like other Doms would.”
“Okay,” she repeated, hesitantly. She felt relief that he didn’t intend to spank her or hit her at all, but what were his other plans?
She wanted to know. Worse than anything. A tight ball formed low in her belly at the thought of his hands on her any way he wanted. “Please…”
A slow grin spread across his face. And then he dropped his palms from her cheeks, grabbed her hand, and turned them around to head back toward the living room. He released her and headed for the fridge.
What was he doing?
A moment later, he returned with a beer and took a casual seat in one corner of the enormous black leather sectional.
She didn’t move, uncertain what he wanted her to do.
Ivan twisted the lid off his beer and took a long sip. “I want you to submit to me. Completely. Do what I say. Don’t question me. Don’t hesitate. Just follow my instructions. I promise you’ll feel the same release I feel in doing so.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t imagine what he had in mind that would be any different from any other day. He bossed her around most of the time. What could he say or do tonight that would seem more dominant?
“Come around to the coffee table.”
She turned in that direction, circled the sectional, and stood next to the rectangular black table that fit perfectly between the three sides of the couch. More often than not they all used it to prop their feet on, but it also came in handy when they wanted to eat in front of the TV.
“Kick your shoes off and step up on top.”
What? She faltered for a moment.
He tipped his head forward. “I said don’t hesitate. I meant it. Just follow my directions.”
This was a whole new brand of bossy. Her chest pounded. Holy shit.
She scrambled to flip off her tennis shoes and climbed onto the table.
“That’s a girl. Now, take off your sweater. Slowly.”
My sweater? Did he intend to have her strip for him? On the coffee table? In the living room?
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