Ivan(3)

Ivan exhaled roughly. His voice was softer, sadder, as he spoke. "Yes. After the car crash, he couldn’t fight. I think it was the depression of losing himself that sent him into a pill bottle."

"It was the death of our parents that sent Ruby over the edge. Carbon monoxide," I explained quietly. "I was away at a sleepover but she was supposed to come home that night and probably would have realized something was wrong with Mom and Dad. She didn't come in until after sunrise. By then…"

"I see. You know that Andrei hasn’t been in the gym for a week. Maybe longer," Ivan said.

"I know. Ruby has been missing the same amount of time. I went looking for her at Andrei's place but it had been ransacked. So I started hitting up some of the places where I know Ruby likes to score and—"

He held up his hand. "You went to see drug dealers? A nice girl like you?" He shook his head. "This is dangerous. You could get hurt."

I bristled at his insinuation that I was some helpless child. "This isn't the first time I've had to sniff around Houston's back alleys to find my sister. I'm sure it won't be the last. I know what I'm doing."

He shot me a dubious look. "Then why are you here asking me for help?"

"Because I think Ruby and Andrei are in trouble. Big trouble," I emphasized. "Andrei was taking side jobs protecting and driving cargo shipments around town. Stolen cargo," I clarified. "Something went wrong and he screwed up a delivery or stole it." I squeezed my phone even tighter as the murky details raced through my mind. "I've gotten conflicting stories. Either way, Ruby was with him. Now they're both missing—and I think they're in trouble."

Ivan's jaw visibly tightened and released. "Who was Andrei running cargo for?"

"I don't know. I've heard three different versions and none of them are good." I nervously chewed my bottom lip and decided to lay it all on the line. "It may have been the Albanians."

Not even a man as tough as Ivan could hide the shock of that tidbit. The corners of his mouth tightened. "You're sure?"

"Not absolutely but I think it's true. Why else would people literally run from me when I start asking questions about Andrei and Ruby?"

"So why come to me, Erin?"

"I need someone to help me get information. No one will talk to me anymore. They're afraid."

"For good reason," he interjected. "Do you have any idea what kind of people you're dealing with, Erin?"

My heart stammered in my chest. "Yes, I do."

"Then I don't know why you're here. You think I'm going to get involved with the Albanian mob over a couple of thieving junkies?" He pointed to a sign prominently displayed on his office wall that proclaimed the space clean. "I run a clean gym, okay? No drugs. No steroids. Andrei and your sister brought that poison into my gym. I lost three fighters this week for failing drug tests. Three! That's my ass on the line, my reputation." He shook his head. "I left that life behind. I'm not going back."

The last glimmer of hope faded within me. Feeling stupid for even thinking this man might help me, I offered a timid, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Mr. Markovic. I shouldn't have—well. Thank you for your time."

Facing burning with embarrassment, I headed for the door. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. What the hell had I been thinking? Was I really expecting a man like Ivan to put his neck on the line to help a stranger?

"Erin." He spoke my name in that low, rumbling voice. "Come back."

I swallowed hard before pivoting on my heel to face him. He stood in the doorway of his office. The resigned look on his face didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Still, if he was reconsidering, I had to try to convince him.

I slipped by him and back into the room. His scent, that masculine mix of cologne and sweat, enveloped me. I became intensely aware of his body heat and his hulking frame. I was close enough now I could see all the faded scars along his jaw and neck. Lower down, I saw the smallest hint of a tattoo peeking out from the neckline of his shirt.

He closed the door again and put a hand on it. The tattoos on his fingers and wrist looked so stark against his paler skin. His gaze bore into me. I tried not to squirm with discomfort. Finally, he sighed loudly. "Look, I'll ask around, okay? I can't make you any promises."

Overcome with relief, I felt the burning prickle of tears stinging my eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Markovic." I blinked quickly as the wetness spilled onto my cheeks. "I'm just grateful that you're willing to help me."

"Ivan," he corrected. He hesitated before wiping away the slick tears dripping down my face. His rough thumb rasped my skin, his very touch branding me. "You should call me Ivan."