by India Kells
“Are you returning to them soon?”
Gabrielle nodded as she swallowed another bite. “They are coming here, though. I’ve rented something nearby, and as Sully will be on leave, we’ll act as if we are all here on vacation. Don’t worry; I’ll only be a phone call away. Never hesitate, Deva. I’m here for you.”
Deva forced herself to relax and continue eating. Something must have shown on her face because Gabrielle quickly wiped her hands and scooted toward her. “Hey, hey. I know it must be difficult being in Chicago again, Deva, but don’t worry. Ten years have modified your appearance. Your hair is darker; your face has changed. I’ve seen pictures of you when you were younger, and only people who were very close and very familiar with you would recognize you. And even if your father is still active, he won’t be coming to this neighborhood. He’s always busy and rarely downtown. We have eyes on him if that changes and you’ll be the first one to know. Many of his most prominent men were not in the area ten years ago when you left; they wouldn’t recognize you if they passed you on the street.”
All of what the blond woman at her knees said was true. And even if her father saw her, there was a possibility that he wouldn’t recognize her. If it were the case, it wouldn’t change her mind about helping Beatrice. And the more she was in the city, the more she realized that it was where she needed to be. Even after changing her appearance and moving as far away as possible, she was still looking over her shoulder. And she was tired of it. How could she live the rest of her life with fear gripping at her heart? Maybe Beatrice’s request was a blessing in disguise, a way of truly gaining power over her life. One she longed to seize for years now.
“I know, Gabrielle. And it would be naive of me to think that my past would stay that way forever. Everyone has to face their demons at some stage, right?”
Gabrielle’s face softened as she touched her hand. “You don’t have to shake up the hornets’ nest if you don’t want to, you know? And I wouldn’t recommend it. This is only a one-shot deal, one mission. Stick to it and move on. Want to go over it one more time before I leave?”
She may not agree with Gabrielle, but Deva let it go for now. As she subtly reminded her of what she had to accomplish.
“I go into The Rusty Cage, and I meet with Rusty who is the boss of the gym and waiting for me. I settle in and start working with the MMA fighters he trains. Getting friendly, but not too much to avoid being mistaken for some sort of groupie. I must find a man called Aleksei Voronov, Oz’s brother, and keep an eye on him without raising suspicions. If possible, be friendly. At the same time, try to find if he has rekindled his ties with the Bratva, the Russian mafia, or with Jamieson Finch.”
Gabrielle nodded as she unscrewed her bottle of water and took a sip. “And not putting yourself in danger at any moment. Understood? That’s the most important part of the plan. It gets hot; you get out.”
Deva arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her mouth. “That may not be an option. I know first hand that this deep, dark world is cut-throat. And sometimes, you don’t have much choice but to put yourself on the line to be trusted, to get what you came for. I’ve seen it countless times. One thing I learned as an MC princess is exactly that. My father had dealings with the Russians, the Yakuza, the Puerto Ricans, and so many more, fighting to gain and keep territory. I may have kept silent, but I learned a lot. Motorcycle clubs, MCs, might often only be the brawn of it all, but they are a dangerous, vicious bunch. Plan as much as you want, keep safe the best you can, and if they even smell doubt, distrust, or fear on you, they will tear your throat out.”
Gabrielle seemed to consider what she had said and got to her feet. “Well, not on my watch. I don’t fear any of them, and I can tell you that I’ve dealt with twisted minds in my time. And done far worst. From my point of view, they are politicians and businessmen with mean looking guns.”
Deva laughed. “You’re not far off. But I will be careful, within reasonable means and according to the situation I’m thrown in. I have a question though.”
Gabrielle let herself fall back on the couch. “Shoot.”
“That man Lazarus wants to stop, Jamieson Finch? I heard his name back in the day. But why? What’s his link with all this? Lazarus didn’t offer much information.”
“Yeah, I know. And for a good reason. Lazarus, despite his stubborn bearded head, is in a tight spot. But if Beatrice put her trust in your hands, I don’t see why the information should be withheld from you. Jamieson Finch is not only a complete and deadly asshole, but he’s also Lazarus King’s father. The man is not only consumed with power, he has also sown his seed, breeding bastards, mostly in Chicago and other places, from what I know. Some of them know of their ancestry, others don’t. So far, nothing to be worried about on that front. However, it seems that Finch had kept tabs on King, and decided that his son is becoming a little too powerful for his liking, and he decided to kidnap and kill Oz’s mother. That’s when I met Oz and saved his mother. Finch acted out of retaliation or vengeance, maybe. Or to prove a point. How can we be sure of what that psycho is thinking? That’s the scary part.”
Deva shook her head in disgust. “A monster indeed, but nothing that isn’t found in the underworld.”
“I agree. But it seems that King has an honorable streak. And Finch had crossed a line he should never have crossed. That’s the reason why he asked Beatrice for help. And yours.”
“Because I know this world?”
Gabrielle shook her head. “Not quite. It’s because Finch is expecting King to come himself and confront him, protect his brothers with his own body if need be. He won’t be expecting one of Bea’s dark sparrows who can be the beginning of his undoing. The ultimate goal is not only to befriend Lazarus’s brother, Deva, but to know if Finch has already put a collar on him, willingly or not, and to get him out. With our help, of course. Lazarus wants to take his father down, but he’s not going to risk the life of his siblings or yours in doing so. It won’t be easy, Aleksei may only be Lazarus’s half-brother, but you’ll have to deal with a hard-headed man who might not see things our way or want to be helped. Be prepared.”
Deva nodded but didn’t say a word. She was prepared. Had been all her life.
Chapter 4
In front of her, skin glistened, and men grunted, as the sound of slapping flesh resonated, it made her heart skip a little, reminding her that she had been alone, willingly, for a long time. Deva had always liked the raw power of a man. Power, as long as it didn’t crush people beneath him. An impossible feat, she knew from experience. Men couldn’t be changed. Power corrupted, whatever the form. But it wouldn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize a little bit, memorize that muscled flesh and sweaty skin for when she was alone in her bed.
Deva dropped her bag near the counter, looking around the gym when someone called her name.
“Deva! You are Deva Landry, right?”
She smiled and turned to the bulky, red-headed man with a wealth of ginger beard, giving her a welcoming grin. “It’s me alright. And you are Rusty Spears I’m guessing?”
“Damn right. Welcome! I’m so happy you could make it. Are you settled? You’ve found a place?”
His hand engulfed her. “Yes, and not too far from here. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought a car after all.”
“Parking’s a pain, but public transportation is okay. Unless it’s late, I’ll pay for a cab to drive you home in that case.”
Deva smiled at the gruff, but chivalrous man. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, I insist. The neighborhood is safe, but I wouldn’t risk you. And I’m so happy you could come and work for me. I saw your credentials and couldn’t believe my luck.”
Deva almost blushed at the sincere compliment. “Well, you’re lucky I needed a change, Rusty.”
“Yeah, but I admire what you did. Taking care of our military, our heroes defending our land, you are one tough lady. We are all grateful.”
The praise surprised her and emotions clogge
d her throat, making it difficult to answer back. “The honor was all mine. But as I said, I needed a change.”
“First time in Chicago?”
Sticking close to the truth was the best course of action. “, no. I was born and raised here, well, close by here anyway. But when I chose physical therapy, work called in Texas. That was a position I couldn’t refuse, so I moved there ten years ago.”
Rusty nodded. “It takes a strong mind to see people suffering that much and still want to help. You won’t have the same type of challenge here. My fighters can be quite gruff at times. I hope you won’t be put off by them.”
Deva laughed and saw a few male heads turn in her direction. “Believe me, none of them would put me off. I’m from tougher, rougher stock than I appear.”
Rusty seemed to examine her as if to determine if she was bluffing or not. Deva suspected that she wasn’t the first female to work here, and there might be a few horrified ladies behind Rusty’s worried look. “If any of them behave inappropriately, you tell me, and I’ll smack some sense into them. They’ve been told to behave, but some may have to be reminded. Now, let me show you around and then, we’ll go see your treatment space, or whatever you call it.”
As men were working out around them, Rusty described his installations, office, and the various working spaces, each with different torture devices in them. He presented her with fighters and trainers. And in the middle, an impressive octagonal cage. She knew about MMA in ways she didn’t want to remember. As images flooded back, she was careful to keep them in check.
Her gaze wandered over the men training; she had carefully studied each of their files that Gabrielle had provided. Each of them fighters in their own right, but with links to the underworld in one way or another. Rusty’s gym acted as a neutral ground for all these men of different families and organization to meet and train. It amazed her.
Currently in the cage were two fighters. One of them she recognized from his file. Andrew Brannon. Dark red hair, he was tall with well-defined muscles. He was the rising star at the gym and preparing for an important fight in less than a month. Irish Mafia if she remembered correctly. A good-looking man, but her eyes were drawn to his opponent, no less small, but less bulky, and much darker. Not his skin but in the impressive ink etched all over his body. Tats were common both in the underworld and in the fighting community, but this man had markings all over his front and back, arms, and even his legs. The only reason for so many of them was if he was part of a gang or the mob. There, in front of her, stood Aleksei Voronov.
“I see you are admiring two of my best fighters. Andy, the ginger one, is in the last stage of his training and you will have him in treatment on a regular basis.”
“And the other?”
“Aleksei. He’s training here, but doesn’t have official fights scheduled so far.”
“Official fights?”
Rusty seemed to hesitate before finally changing the subject altogether. “All of my fighters can ask you for treatment. I know you have many specialties, but they can’t just decide to come to you and ask for only a massage. Either I tell you the kind of therapy they need, or you decided depending on the ache, pain, or injury. I trust your judgment and experience. I want them in top shape. They may appear as badasses, but outside of the cage, they tend to avoid being uncomfortable. That’s where you and I need to push them. Sometimes, an achy, untreated muscle can flip a match from winning to losing, if you get my drift.”
“Understood.”
And as she was about to follow Rusty on his tour, a buzzer sounded, indicating the end of the round. Both men in the cage stopped wrestling and started walking in circles, catching their breath. That was when Aleksei turned to her. It was like a blow to her gut. He stood tall, with muscles quivering, skin glistening with sweat, and black hair spiking on his head. It was the familiar silver eyes, that had a feral look to them, that almost made her flinch. His gaze stared straight at her as he moved, assessing her like she was potential prey. Behind the wired enclosure, he looked like a mean predator, one of those big cats she had seen in zoos, waiting for a single opening, a weakness, before leaping to taste blood.
She had seen her share of wild men, but this one was the very first that gripped her gut this way, making it impossible to move or look away. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to breathe slowly, and not look away first. But when Aleksei came to a standstill before her, his arm stretched on the fencing above his head in a powerful stance; Deva hoped she was far enough away for him not to notice the slight shiver that ran down her spine. He jerked the wire, and she jumped at the reverberating sound. Cursing under her breath, she saw him smile as the buzzer rang once more and he returned to his opponent.
“Deva?”
Rusty looked at her, a question in his eyes, but she forced herself to smile. “Lead on, Rusty. I can’t wait to get my hands on your men and make them suffer.”
And God forbid she wouldn’t spare that Voronov bastard if he ever tried to make her scared of him again. Mission or no mission, she wouldn’t be bullied. Never again!
Chapter 5
“Ouch! Ouch! OUCH!!” Deva bit back a smile as the fighter in treatment whined like a spoiled brat even though she was barely applying any pressure.
“Come on Hector; you are a tough guy. And if I don’t remove that knot in your leg muscle, it won’t heal properly. I know that, you know that, so stop whining.”
The man growled as she continued to work on his thigh muscle. Hector Nazario, aka “Quick Silver” was part of the Puerto Rican mob family, but also one of the most dangerous contenders on the official MMA circuit. And bonus, he was always a gentleman with her, funny and considerate, unless she was treating him. In the hours Deva had spent in his company in her treatment room, his body lying on her bed of torture, as he aptly named it, he was the most grumpy, insufferable and childish patient she’d ever had.
“You know how much I hate you right now, mi corazon?” His question came from clenched teeth and a barely restrained temper that made her smile. She had been at the gym for three weeks now and had treated the man almost every day of the week with the same whining tone coming from his gorgeous lips.
“Yes, I know, Hector. You tell me every time you come to see me.” After one more press that made his leg jerk, and satisfied that she had remedied the situation the best way she could until his training the next day, she only rubbed his leg. “And I’m done. You can relax now.”
The sigh he gave her was as if he had been under a blade for the previous hour. “You have surprisingly strong hands for a woman. You know that.”
Patting his knee, she straightened, moving her shoulders to loosen them up a little. Treating very fit guys required more strength and intensity to get through the muscle mass, especially since they weren’t wounded or recovering from extensive surgeries like her previous patients. And seeing at least four guys a day at one or two-hour treatments each, she was glad to be in good shape herself. Deva always liked training and hadn’t stopped, Rusty was kind enough to give her the alarm code and allowed her to train on the gym’s equipment outside of the usual opening hours.
Deva grabbed a towel and wiped her hands as Hector came to a sitting position. “I need strong hands with you guys. So? How’s the thigh?”
Hector jumped off her massage table and flexed his muscle a bit, moving his leg before offering her a huge smile. Kind Hector was back. “Hey, the pain is almost gone.”
“Good, but ice it tonight. And no running. You need to give it the night off so tomorrow the treatment can stick. At least a few hours I hope.”
“You are a miracle worker, Deva. Thanks so much.”
The tall, Hispanic warrior came to her side and put his scarred hand on her shoulder. “Again, I’m sorry to be a pain to you, Deva.”
Deva rolled her eyes at him and chuckled. “I’m only trying to help you, try to remember that. What I do is painful but necessary, especially since you are pushing your body to the limits
. And for all that whining, you'd better beat your opponent’s ass or be prepared to be really tortured in here as a consequence. I didn’t put so much effort in that body of yours to see you fail.”
Hector smiled and shook his head. “Are you coming to the fight?”
Deva skirted him to remove the sheet from her table and throw it in her linen hamper. “Don’t know yet.”
“Oh, come on! You gotta come. I’m offering you free tickets, bring friends.”
“I don’t know if I want to see you being bashed by another guy, Hector.”
In an instant, the friendly man turned into a beast before her eyes, his voice cold as steel. “I have no intention of losing, Deva. Don’t ever say that to me.”
Sorry to have picked his ego, she put a hand on his forearm. “I never said you would lose. But the man might get lucky and throw a couple of successful punches at you. Before he falls on the mat and you win, of course.”
His posture relaxed once more, and amusement brightened his dark chocolate eyes. “I never saw it that way. But please consider coming to the fight. Will you?”
“I will consider it. Satisfied?”
Hector grabbed his t-shirt before going for the door. “Nope. I’ll only be when I see you in the front row, cheering.”
Deva shook her head, amused. “We’ll see. Now get out, and don’t forget to take it slow tonight and put ice on it. That’s an order.”
Hector winked at her and left.
That man was so stubborn, she thought. But as work was never done, Deva quickly started readying her table and replacing her bottles, ointments, and towels in their proper places. A quick look at her watch told her that Hector’s appointment had run longer than usual, but as it was the last one of the day, she didn’t mind. As she had skipped lunch, Deva grabbed a granola bar from her bag and munched on it as she finished straightening up. Rusty popped his head from behind the door, making her jump.