CHAPTER ONE
"Erin, please don't go in there." Sitting in the front passenger seat, Vivian wrung her hands. "This is way too risky."
My gut clenched at her desperate tone. "I don't have a choice. I have to find Ruby."
"We'll do it some other way." Lena twisted in the driver's seat of her red beater and shot me a pleading look. "Vivi's right. Don't go in there."
I glanced out the rear window of the cramped car. My stomach pitched with anxiety at the sight of the warehouse. Stained with rust, the rundown warehouse sported such a deceptive front. That awful looking place housed one of the finest mixed-martial arts training centers in the world. Men desperate to be champions flew into Houston from all over the world to compete for one of the few open spots every year.
But I wasn't here to join a training regimen. No, I was here because I needed help. The kind of help only a man with his fingers deeply submerged in the murky waters of Houston's seedy underbelly could provide. "I need help."
"These are not the kind of men you go to for help," Vivi insisted. "These are the kind of men you usually need help escaping."
"I'm with Vivi on this one. Don't go looking for trouble, Erin." Lena chewed her thumb. "I mean, Vivi should know. My god, Erin! She works for the Russian mob. She would know what kind of person this Ivan Markovic is."
Vivi thumped Lena's leg. "I don't work for the Russian mob! Jesus, don't say stuff like that. You could get me hurt."
Lena rubbed her leg. "You're a waitress at the Samovar. The place is owned by Nikolai Kalasnikov. If that's not mobbed up, I don't know what is."
"You don't know that for sure," Vivi shot back. "No one really knows if he's in the mob or not. You know how secretive those guys are." Vivi glanced back at me. "When I started working for Nikolai, he warned me to stay away from the men who frequent the restaurant—and I do. Ivan Markovic is a regular customer there. Take Nikolai's advice, Erin. Stay the hell away from Ivan."
I appreciated Vivi's warning but it was too late. "I don't have a choice. I'm going in there."
Vivi looked like she was going to burst into tears. Lena sighed loudly. "Keep your phone in your hand and pull up my number. If anything weird happens in there, you hit that button. We'll come in and bust you out."
Any other time I would have laughed at Lena's tough girl remark but, right now, I needed her strength and support. I fished my phone out of my purse and clutched it tightly. "Okay. I'm ready."
Vivi reached back and gripped my wrist. "Whatever you do, don't promise him anything. These Russians are big on honoring their debts. They'll require you to do the same. Remember that he'll expect to collect on whatever you offer."
Armed with Vivi's warning and Lena's promise to save my ass if things went south, I climbed out of the car. A humid May breeze ruffled my skirt. I slid a nervous hand down the front of my dress and finger-combed my short hair. Gulping down the ball of nerves clogging my throat, I pushed my sunglasses into place and forced my feet to move.
The heavy main door proved almost impossible to push open. I threw my willowy frame against it in an attempt to budge the damn thing even an inch. Finally, it slid inward. A blast of frigid air popped me in the face. Entering the warehouse, I couldn't help but wonder if opening that door was the first test for the fighters who made the trek here in their quest for the best trainers.
Once inside the huge space, I lost my courage. The open layout of the gym and sparring cages stunned me. From the outside, this place looked like such a hell hole. Now I understood just how deceptive the dilapidated façade truly was. The interior, though dimly lit, housed expensive equipment. It was teeming with sweaty, half-naked men, some of them working out and others pounding and kicking away at one another in sparring rings.
My appearance didn't go unnoticed. A couple of muscle-heads stopped lifting weights to gawk at me. Feeling self-conscious, I slipped my sunglasses onto the crown of my head and hugged my right arm across my chest. Maybe Vivi was right. This was a bad, bad idea.
"Can I help you?" An older man, old enough to be my grandfather, approached me from one of the nearby workout stations. His heavily accented voice surprised me. It wasn't the mother tongue of Russia that colored his words. No, it was Spanish. "You're lost?"
I shook my head. "I need to see Mr. Markovic."
His white eyebrows arched with surprise. "Ivan? You want to see Ivan?"
I nodded. "Yes, please."
He studied me for a moment before exhaling and flicking his fingers. "Follow me."
I stayed close to the old man as he led me through the warehouse. I kept my gaze glued to the back of his grey t-shirt and refused to meet the curious looks that followed me. Apparently they didn't get a lot of women in this place.