Saviours

by Beth Abbott

  Micky leaned back and stared at him.

  “How do you know I’m not into women? Or both?” She smirked at him.

  Kellen considered the question.

  “Well, obviously, if you were into both, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell.” He conceded. “But you’re definitely not only into women. That much I can say for certain.”

  Micky snorted a laugh.

  “How exactly can you tell I’m not only into women?” She wondered.

  “Because if you were, you wouldn’t be looking at me the way you have been.” He shrugged.

  Micky rolled her eyes, but beneath her look of scorn she was wondering whether she had been sending him some kind of subliminal signals.

  “And how do you think I’ve been looking at you?” She asked. “Have I been fluttering my eyelashes at you, and swooning when you look my way?”

  “Not exactly.” Kellen laughed. “I suppose you looked at me like you’re interested.”

  His simple statement left Micky speechless for a few seconds.

  “Interested?” She snorted when she could speak again. “Interested in what, do you think?”

  Kellen smiled wickedly.

  “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say you were intrigued by my devilishly good looks, and of course, you might possibly be interested in finding out whether I look as good out of my clothes as I do in them.” He teased. “I do, by the way.”

  Micky snorted a laugh, but Kellen seemed to ignore it.

  “And, of course, having had the pleasure of speaking to me, I’m sure you’re interested in finding out whether I really am as witty, charming and intelligent as you first thought.” Kellen grinned. “And who could blame you?”

  Micky had to bite her lip to hold back the laughter.

  “But, of course, I might have got it completely wrong, and you could have just been wondering how good I am in the sack.” He shrugged. “Or maybe even a combination of the three.”

  Micky’s eyes widened.

  “Or maybe I’m just wondering how you managed to have such a high opinion of yourself?” She suggested. “Vain much?”

  Kellen laughed, obviously not offended.

  “Not vain, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “I’m a realist. I know my attributes and I know my weaknesses. I’m just as happy to tell you what the negatives are.”

  Micky was definitely intrigued now. Would a guy as handsome, intelligent and funny really have weaknesses? And if he did, would he honestly share them with her?

  “Ok, list your weaknesses, I dare you.” She challenged him.

  “You think I won’t?” Kellen chuckled. “Ok, let me see… Well, I have a thing about tidiness. Not OCD, but I can’t stand people who leave a mess behind them. I’ve been itching to tidy up our cabin, but the guys would never let me hear the end of it if I did.”

  “More than likely.” Micky agreed, picturing Abram’s face if Kellen tried to tell him to pick up his dirty socks. “Next?”

  “Can’t stand worms.” Kellen shrugged. “I’m not too bad with snakes but worms I can’t stand. They freak me out.”

  “Childhood phobia?” Micky asked curiously.

  “Adulthood phobia.” Kellen shrugged. “Got stuck in a field for three days on an operation, lying face down in mud and six inches of water, unable to move more than a couple of inches each way. Trust me, there’s almost nowhere those little bastards won’t try and go!”

  Micky scrunched up her nose in disgust, trying to get the image out of her head.

  “Yuck!” She sympathised. “Not my favourite either, but I’d prefer a worm to a maggot any day of the week. Anyway, go on.”

  “I like women with dual personalities.” Kellen smirked, leaving the sentence hanging, waiting for Micky to figure out his meaning by herself.

  She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, trying to guess what sort of personalities he might be looking for. He obviously wasn’t talking about a medical condition.

  Eventually, Micky knew she’d have to admit she had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Explain.” She demanded. “You know you want to.”

  Kellen grinned.

  “I like a woman who is strong and capable, and able to take charge in almost every area of her life.” Kellen explained. “But I also like a woman who is prepared to let me take the lead in the bedroom and give up control to me. That’s not something many women are able to do.”

  Micky stared at him some more, and she noticed Kellen’s eyes widen, as though he felt a jolt of excitement that she seemed interested in what he had to say.

  “You like kink.” Micky said matter-of-factly. If he was into whips and bondage and shit, that would be such a let-down! She really wasn’t into stuff like that.

  Kellen snorted a laugh.

  “No, I don’t like kink.” He grinned. “At least, I don’t have a preference for it.”

  “Then what sort of control do you like?” She frowned.

  “I’m talking about direction, not domination. I don’t need a woman to be submissive. I like a woman who will trust me to make the sex the best it can be for both of us, and do what I ask, when I ask, to achieve that.” He shrugged. “What I don’t want is someone who’s certain she’s the only person who knows where her G spot is, and then insists on directing me there at the earliest opportunity because she’s convinced herself I’ll never find my way there on my own.”

  Micky could partly understand his frustration, but in her limited experience, the few men she’d slept with would’ve had trouble finding her G spot with GPS guidance.

  Even so, she was still a little confused.

  “So, how is that a weakness exactly?” She asked.

  “It’s a weakness because it narrows down the population of possible partners to a ridiculously small number.” Kellen shrugged. “There are few enough women who are mentally strong enough to meet the first criteria. Far fewer still among that number are prepared to hand over that level of control to a man, especially a man they don’t necessarily know well. It leads to a lot of cold showers and lonely nights.”

  Micky stared at him with her jaw dropped onto her chin.

  “You’re trying to tell me you can’t find women to have sex with?” She hissed. “You are so full of shit!”

  Kellen burst out laughing, wincing as he almost doubled up, the action pulling at some of the cuts.

  “I didn’t say it led to complete celibacy.” He protested. “Just that it led to far fewer opportunities for really connecting with someone. Mutually enjoyable sex as opposed to a meaningless fuck.”

  Micky shook her head trying to get the image of enjoyable sex with Kellen out of her head. Right now, the way her body was responding to him, she was quite certain she’d settle for the meaningless fuck if he asked her.

  She picked up the antiseptic and glue.

  “I have to hand it to you… you talk a lot of crap, but it’s very entertaining crap.” She smiled at him. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to flirt with me, or just take your mind off the pain from the cuts.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely flirting.” Kellen gave her a devilish smile. “Is it working? Are you falling under my spell?”

  Mickey swiped one of the cuts with antiseptic, making him wince. God, yes, it was definitely working!

  “I don’t know if I’m falling under your spell exactly.” Micky pinched his skin together. “But if it was a choice between you and Sergei… you’d definitely win.”

  Kellen snorted a laugh, as if fully appreciating that coming out ahead of Sergei Lebedev wasn’t actually saying very much.

  “Well, I’ll take that as a positive start.” He teased. “Any time you’re ready to give up control in the bedroom, you just give me a holler. I’ll see you right.”

  Micky applied the glue without looking up at him. If only he was serious!

  “Thanks very much for the kind offer.” She smiled. “I’ll be sure to keep your number on speed-dial in case I decide to take you up on it.”
<
br />   “Oh, you won’t need me on speed-dial, sweetheart.” He leered at her. “I have a feeling you and I aren’t going to be more than a few feet apart this whole weekend.”

  Micky stared at Kellen, noting the way those steel grey eyes twinkled.

  “I really can’t tell whether you’re a compulsive flirt, or you’re just messing with me.” She murmured.

  “Well, I like to think I’m just a nice guy, and I try and treat most people well, unless they give me reason not to. So, maybe what you’re seeing as flirting could just be me showing that I actually do like you.” He smiled. “I’m sure as hell not messing with you. I don’t do that.”

  Micky longed to believe he liked her, but then reminded herself how pointless that would be. After this weekend, she’d never see him again.

  “How would I be able to tell the difference?” She challenged.

  “You could always try kissing me.” Kellen shrugged. “As the song says, ‘It’s in his kiss’!”

  Micky smiled, even as disappointment settled in her chest. Yeah, he was definitely messing with her.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She nodded, turning back to the cuts on his shoulder. “Now, shall we get these finished before we get side-tracked any further?”

  Micky watched a flash of something pass over Kellen’s face, but she couldn’t figure out what it meant.

  For a split second she wondered if it might be disappointment, but quickly dismissed that as wishful thinking.

  It had been so long since she’d been with a man she’d probably lost the ability to translate all those expressions with any degree of accuracy.

  Surely, if he’d really wanted to kiss her he’d have just done it, not suggested she take the lead.

  Right?

  Micky could’ve kicked herself. Now she’d never know!

  Chapter 43 – Drago

  Drago took the stairs three at a time, his anger giving him energy to burn.

  The first of the fights between the other two teams had just finished, thankfully, without incident, and he wanted to check on Kellen before the second fight started.

  He stopped at the team’s cabin first to find one of the hostesses sitting on Kellen’s bed, nervously looking around.

  “Thank goodness for that.” Zach hissed. “This is Mara, one of the hostesses. She doesn’t speak English.”

  Drago glanced between them, unsure what the problem was.

  “The other hostess has quite happily gone to cabin five with a less than enthusiastic Abram, ready to give him his reward.” Kris grinned. “Micky suggested that Mara would be happy if we simply gave her a bed for the night and made her feel safe, but I’ve tried to explain to her that we’re not going to touch her, and she doesn’t seem convinced. I don’t know if it’s a dialect thing or my American accent, but she’s sitting there looking like a scared rabbit, wondering if she’s about to be gang-raped.”

  “Can you explain to her she can stay here tonight and that we’ll keep her safe, but she can’t let on to Lebedev or the girls that we haven’t touched her.” Zach suggested.

  Drago crouched in front of Mara and explained what was going on. He watched her face change from fear, to disbelief, and finally to relief.

  “Is there anything else she needs to know?” He looked around.

  “As long as she knows she can sleep here safely, and that nobody is going to molest her, I suppose that’s enough.” Zach shrugged. “Although I suppose you should ask if there’s anything she needs? Food or drink, maybe? I don’t know if she’s eaten tonight.”

  Drago passed on the message and asked Mara whether there was anything she needed. She murmured her single request, and he smiled.

  “She doesn’t want to sleep in her dress because she has to wear it again tomorrow night.” He looked around. “Can one of you spare her a t-shirt or something to sleep in?”

  Zach pulled open a drawer and grabbed a t-shirt and pair of gym shorts.

  “They have a drawstring, so she should be able to tighten them, so they don’t fall down around her ankles.” He smiled at Mara as he handed them over. “Tell her she can have Kellen’s bed.”

  Drago relayed the message and Mara nodded her understanding.

  “Where is Kellen, anyway?” He looked around.

  “Micky took him back to her cabin to clean him up and glue up all the cuts.” Zach frowned. “The Pole really did a number on him.”

  “I’ll go and check on him before I go back downstairs.” Drago nodded.

  “Did the latest fight have any incidents?” Kris asked.

  “No, none, thank God!” Drago growled. “I was already feeling nauseous from seeing Kellen bleeding everywhere. If the next one had gone the same way, I’d have been puking my guts up in the bathroom. I can only stomach the sight of so much blood.”

  He slipped out of the cabin and back along the corridor until he reached Micky’s cabin, where he knocked on the door quietly.

  He waited a few seconds before he heard a clicking sound and saw Micky peeping out at him.

  She pulled the door open wider, so he could step inside, and he immediately spotted Kellen sitting surrounded by bloody rags.

  “How’re you doing?” He stepped towards his team-mate.

  “Me?” Kellen grinned. “Psht… I’m just fine!”

  “He’s not fine!” Micky contradicted Kellen. “He’s got between fifty and sixty puncture wounds, some of them quite deep. It’s lucky he’s even alive. If just one of those wounds had hit an artery, he’d have bled out all over the floor.”

  “But they didn’t hit an artery, so, like I said, I’m fine.” Kellen shrugged.

  “Well, hopefully, you won’t have to do any thing physical between now and Sunday night.” Drago shrugged. “It will be Zach and Kris facing the music tomorrow night, so assuming they win, you’ve got forty-eight hours to recover.”

  “Huh, like that’s gonna happen.” Micky grunted as she dropped to the floor in front of Kellen, picking up the glue and swabs. “The superglue only works if you leave the area alone until it heals over. That takes weeks, not hours.”

  Drago looked at Kellen for reassurance that he was Ok, but the guy was staring down at Micky, looking at her like she hung the moon.

  Jesus! As if Drago didn’t have enough complications in his life, this pair looked like they were connecting.

  “Well, I just wanted to check on things and make sure you’d been able to fix him up.” Drago shrugged. “Will it take much longer?”

  Micky shook her head.

  “I’ve got another half dozen to go, but I’m down to the last drops of glue.” She held up the tube to show him it was nearly squashed flat. “Once this is gone, I’ll have to sew the rest.”

  “Well, you’ve probably got another hour until the last fight finishes.” Drago nodded. “I’m guessing Lebedev will be expecting you back downstairs then to help him settle all the bets.”

  “I should be finished by then.” Mickey confirmed. “I’ve got some strong painkillers that Kellen can take. They should knock him out cold for the night, which will help the wounds heal.”

  “That’s lucky for you considering he’s going to be your room-mate tonight.” Drago smirked. “Mara will be in Kellen’s bed, so unless you want to see him on the floor, he’s going to have to sleep on your spare bunk.”

  Micky looked like she wanted to argue but kept her opinion to herself.

  “Take that bunk.” She pointed to the far wall. “The sheets are still clean for now, at least.”

  Kellen looked a little sheepish.

  “Couldn’t Mara come in with you?” He asked Micky.

  Drago knew that wasn’t possible.

  “Mara is supposed to be in with you guys as your prize.” Micky shrugged. “If she’s found in here with me, Sergei will go crazy. You really don’t want to see him when he loses his shit.”

  “Well, I’m heading downstairs to watch the final fight.” Drago announced. “And if you want to see someone losing th
eir shit, get ready, because it’s going to be me. What happened to you was completely unacceptable, and I’m going to make sure Lebedev knows it.”

  Drago let himself out of Micky’s cabin and headed back down the stairs. When he entered the entertainment room the final fight of the night had already begun, and he walked around the edge of the seating area until he reached the makeshift bar.

  Drago grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of vodka and poured the clear liquid to the brim. He slammed the bottle down and picked up the glass, shooting the fiery liquid to the back of his throat with one gulp.

  He felt the burn as the alcohol slipped down his throat, but it did nothing to extinguish the anger burning in his gut.

  Anger mixed with guilt was the worst kind.

  He had brought these men to Russia to help him secure a weapons deal and relieve Lebedev of a lot of money.

  Ok, yeah, he and they had expected that they’d be somewhat beaten up by the end of the weekend, but he’d never expected that one of them would have come that close to being killed in the ring.

  Micky wasn’t wrong when she’d pointed out that a well-placed shot could have severed an artery. There was no coming back from an injury like that this far out to sea, and away from medical assistance.

  Drago glanced at the bottle, tempted to put himself out of his misery.

  Not tonight! Tonight, he wanted his wits about him, because he was going to have a showdown with Lebedev, and make his displeasure known.

  He watched the final fight with a clinical eye, noting that the fighters were not a patch on his own men. They were big and heavily muscled, but it was muscle over fat, and the men were slow and sluggish compared to his guys.

  Drago went back to his seat and waited for the fight to end.

  From time to time he saw Lebedev glance over at him, and realised the guy was actually looking nervous.