Ivan(2)

"You wait here." The old man shot me a warning look. "Don't speak."

His instruction made my stomach pitch. Don't speak? What the hell kind of place was this?

Left alone, I dared to lift my gaze to the metal cage before me. It sat on a raised stage and resembled the ones I'd seen on pay-per-view once. Sitting in my then-boyfriend's living room, I hadn't been able to make it through that fight. Seeing it now, being so close I could hear every smack of body contact, left me feeling a bit woozy. Violence and blood had never been things I could easily stomach.

Unlike Vivi and Lena, I'd lived a sheltered life. Until Ruby's recent addiction problems and scrapes with the law, I'd never known anything about the seedy side of Houston. Now I was undergoing a crash course in navigating the very worst the city had to offer.

A shouting man drew my attention. I could hear him clearly even over the music blaring from the sound system. Though I'd never met Ivan Markovic, there was no doubt in my mind that this intimidating man was him.

Standing just outside the cage, he looked so out of place in his perfectly tailored grey trousers and white shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows and revealed thickly corded arms emblazoned with tattoos. Even from this distance, the Cyrillic letters were clearly visible. I didn't have to be one of the initiated to understand what they meant.

Ivan clapped his hands and blasted a series of instructions in Russian, the words forceful and demanding. Inside the ring, the fighters didn't dare disobey. They kicked and punched and beat the crap out of one another. As hard as they were going at it, I was glad they were wearing sparring helmets and gloves.

Another man outside the ring whacked together two blocks of wood, signaling the end of the round. Ivan jerked open the cage door and stalked inside. He gestured for the two sweating, panting men to approach him. Hooking his arms around their shoulders, he pulled their heads close together and started to talk to them. I couldn't make out a word he said but the two fighters listened intently.

When he was done with his pointers, Ivan smacked them both on the shoulder and left the cage. He started down the short metal stairs but stopped abruptly. Our gazes clashed. His searing stare burned my skin as it swept me from head to foot. Frowning, he headed down the steps and dipped his head so the old man could speak to him. Not once did his unrelenting gaze leave me.

Trembling inside, I gripped my phone so tightly my fingertips started to go numb. Ivan came so close I could smell the woodsy hints of his cologne. Though not handsome in the most classic sense, Ivan enthralled me. Maybe it was the power and danger that radiated from him. Maybe it was the way he towered over me, those pale blue eyes peering right through me. I don't know—I just couldn't break eye contact with him.

"Look, sweetheart, we've already filled the secretary position." His thickly accented English rolled over me in waves. Because he scared the living daylights out of me, I let the sweetheart pet name slide. Any other guy I would have had no problem correcting but this one? Oh, hell no. He could call me cupcake and I wouldn't even flinch.

"I'm not here for a job, Mr. Markovic."

Surprise filtered across his face. "You want to train?" He laughed, the sound harsh and staccato. "We don't train girls here. Okay? Paco, walk her out."

Desperate, I grasped his wrist and stopped him from walking away from me. The instant we made contact an electric zing arced through me. From the flash in his eyes, he must have felt it, too.

"Please," I begged. "I need your help."

His eyes narrowed. With a swift tug, he freed his wrist from my grasp. With an imperious flick of his fingers, he indicated I should follow him. I scurried to keep up with his long strides. He led me to an office at the rear of the warehouse and gestured for me to enter first. The door closed behind him. He walked to the big window facing out toward the gym and opened the wide horizontal blinds. Apparently he didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about what was going on in his office.

Certain I was safe with the blinds open, I relaxed a bit. My mouth went dry when he spun to face me. The annoyed expression he wore deflated my hopes.

"Do I know you?" He strode to his desk and leaned back against it. He crossed his muscled arms against his chest and studied me. "I would remember a face like yours. We're not acquainted."

I shook my head. "No, but we have some acquaintances in common. My name is Erin Hanson and my sister, Ruby, is dating one of your trainers. He used to be a fighter but he got all banged up in that car accident last year."

"Andrei?" He looked taken aback. "Your sister is the junkie girlfriend?"

I winced at the awful word junkie. Sure, Ruby was a pill addict and, yes, she was constantly in trouble trying to support her nasty habit—but I hated to think of her as a junkie. I refused to believe she couldn't be saved or helped. "Yes, my sister is his girlfriend. And, to be fair, Andrei is just as dirty."