Guard (The Underground Book 3) (14 page)

That sounded crazy. Who did that? But then again, who wanted to spend their Friday nights getting their faces pummeled inside a cage?

“And doesn’t anyone find this suspicious?” Alena grumbled.

“Why?” Haley asked. “Is that not normal?”

Nikolav snorted. “Sure. Except Mikhail conveniently got his ass kicked in the alley after the fight. Broke four ribs.
Now
Growder wants a rematch?”

“
What
?” Haley twisted around, ignoring the droning words still coming from the announcer. “When was this? I didn’t know he’d broken any ribs recently.”

“Three weeks ago,” Alena whispered.

“What the fuck?” Haley’s voice rose. “How is that possible? I met him three weeks ago. He didn’t have broken ribs. And I’ve never noticed a single thing from him since then.” A shiver wracked her body.

Nikolav leaned in closer. “Shh. Not so loud. Mikhail isn’t one to complain. I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you. It happened the Friday night before he found you.”

“But it’s not possible,” she hissed back. “You found me on a Monday. He flipping carried me out of that man’s house, for Christ’s sake. Besides, nobody can fight with broken ribs. He’s never shown a single indication he was injured. There must be a mistake.”

Sergei chuckled. “Trust me. Mikhail can handle it.”

She spun back around as the bell sounded, her mind racing with this new information. Insanity was the rule lately rather than the exception.

Her brain swirled as she remembered Katie asking Mikhail about his ribs in her office two weeks ago. He’d shut her down, specifically not mentioning anything was broken. He’d said he’d taken a “hard hit” in a fight.

Why the farce?

Mikhail’s fighting name was “The Warrior” and the crowd screamed his nickname over and over. Mikhail held his hands up in front of him and bounced around in a half-circle while Kingman threw several punches that were immediately deflected.

“Why doesn’t he hit the guy?” Haley asked Alena, glancing over at the woman on tiptoes.

“He always does this. He’s a master at guarding. Wait until you see him take the other guy to the floor.”

Haley winced. This was much worse than watching him practice. These guys looked like they intended to kill one another. She held her breath, rooted frozen in her spot, not even blinking, while she watched this precarious dance between grown men.

Growder threw several punches again.

Mikhail kept his guard up, deflecting all of them.

“Why doesn’t he punch back?” she asked Alena.

“He’s wearing Growder out. Pissing him off.”

“Ah.” Made sense.

Suddenly, as if in slow motion, Mikhail spun around in a circle and kicked Growder high on the chest. Mikhail instantly jumped back into his defensive position.

Growder lurched backward, flinging his arms to keep from falling. In seconds, he was back in control. He ducked his head and jumped forward, ramming his skull into Mikhail’s stomach.

Having touched that eight pack herself, Haley wasn’t sure who would be hurt worse. It was possible Growder would have a headache from attempting to knock Mikhail down with his forehead.

Mikhail was unfazed. He spun around again and caught his opponent with a right hook to the side of his face.

Haley cringed. Jesus. Surely someone would be killed tonight.

She just hoped it wasn’t Mikhail.

“They look evenly matched,” Haley commented.

“They aren’t. Trust me. Kingman must have a death wish to challenge my brother to a do-over. Mikhail’s just getting started.”

“Are there like three rounds or something? They’ve been fighting a long time.” Haley wrung her hands together, watching the sweat dripping off both men’s backs and chests.

“Not here. Not the underground,” Sergei said. “They fight until one of them wins.”

“Lord.” That could take a while.

Mikhail looked far calmer than his opponent, however. He seemed to be strategically waiting for something. He bounced around with his guard up while Kingman threw punches and kicks that Mikhail brushed off as if they were nothing.

Finally, while Kingman was in the middle of a left hook, his arm extended in front of him, Mikhail rounded to the guy’s side and lunged forward, wrapping his arm around Kingman’s neck. In less than a second, he flipped the man to the ground.

Mikhail landed on his back, his legs wrapped around Kingman’s torso.

Kingman threw a punch that hit Mikhail above the right eye. Blood spattered onto the mat and ran in a line down Mikhail’s temple.

Haley squealed. This couldn’t be good. He was flat on his back and injured. She lifted her hands to the sides of her face, prepared to block her vision.

Sergei leaned in. “Don’t worry. This is his signature move.”

“What? Lying on his back with his face punched in? Looks like he’s about to get killed.”

Sergei chuckled. “He isn’t. It’s a grappling position called a full guard. It looks like the guy on top has the upper hand, but he doesn’t. Mikhail is in control. Kingman can’t stand up or move to either side. He’s pinned.”

Looked to her like Mikhail was the one pinned, but what did she know…

“He’ll open his legs up in a second for an open guard and whip Kingman to the side.”

Sure enough, that’s exactly what happened. If she had blinked, she would have missed it. Mikhail released his ankles, Kingman twisted to one side, and Mikhail did an amazing pushup to wrap his arm around Kingman’s neck.

Shit.

The entire thing was horrifying.

Kingman grabbed Mikhail’s forearm with both hands and tugged while Mikhail squeezed his neck tighter and slowly lowered him to the floor.

“He’s gonna cut off his oxygen supply,” Haley protested.

“That’s the idea. It’s a chokehold.”

“But the man will die.” Sweat broke out on Haley’s forehead. Had she really been pondering a relationship with someone who did this for money? How many fighters had Mikhail killed for a few bucks and an adrenaline rush?

As if reading her mind, Nikolav leaned in to speak. “Don’t worry. Kingman will tap out before it gets to be too much. No one has ever needed serious medical attention on Mikhail’s watch.”

She exhaled slowly. That was good.

Sure enough, as the man on the ground turned red, he wiggled one hand free and flattened it on the mat beneath him, tapping three times.

The referee grabbed Mikhail’s arm and lifted it in the air while Mikhail jumped to his feet. With an electric megaphone in his other hand, the referee declared Mikhail the winner. “For the second time in as many weeks, your champion, Mikhail ‘The Warrior’ Dudko.”

Mikhail’s chest heaved as he slowly spun in a circle, waving at the crowd, pausing briefly to wink in her direction and smile.

She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and wondered if she could somehow get out of this speakeasy and make it home alone. It would take her a while to process what she’d watched.

She’d spent literally her entire life working to save people from all sorts of demises, and here she was living with a man who had so little value for human life that he participated in an unsanctioned sport where his opponents could easily be killed.

Sergei whispered in her ear while the crowd continued to cheer and Mikhail exited the ring through the gate on the other side of the fence. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. It seems like half this crowd is watching us.” He angled her toward the side door by the bar where they’d first entered the main section of the speakeasy.

It took a while to get to the door. So many people. This was not the venue for anyone suffering from claustrophobia.

Two men blocked the door, their legs wide, their hands crossed in front of them. They had fierce looks on their faces, and Haley wondered if they were also MMA fighters when they weren’t playing bouncer.

With a brief nod to Nikolav, one of them stepped aside and opened the door just wide enough for the four of them to squeeze through.

As soon as the door shut behind them, cutting off the sound, Haley exhaled. Her ears were ringing from the volume.

“Exhilarating, yeah?” Alena beamed.

Haley cringed. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

Nikolav chuckled. “Ah, come on. You had to feel the adrenaline rush just watching.”

“I felt it all right. Just not sure I liked it.” She wasn’t kidding. She seriously needed to reevaluate the company she kept.

The men were both chuckling as they made their way down the narrow hall toward the locker room. They leaned against the rough walls when they arrived.

Sergei nodded toward the door. “It’s disgusting in there. Trust me. You don’t want to go in. Mikhail will come out when he’s showered.”

No way was she going to argue that point. It had been pretty gross even before the fighting began. She couldn’t imagine how it smelled now that several of them had fought.

“How often do you guys fight?” Haley asked.

“Usually about once a month. Sometimes more. Sometimes less,” Nikolav said. “This was an anomaly.”

“And I still say it’s suspicious,” Alena grumbled.

“Did you say he got in a fight after the last match?” Another negative mark for Mikhail. He got into fights? Did she not know this man at all?

Nikolav chuckled. “Hardly. Unless you call slapping a mask over his head and kicking him in the chest a fair fight. Mikhail never saw a thing. He never even had a chance to retaliate. They jumped him in the parking garage, beat the hell out of him, and then took off, leaving him on the ground.”

She gasped. “Shit. I thought you meant he got in a fight.”

“Not even close.” Nikolav shook his head.

“Ivan and I brought him to Katie’s clinic in the morning. She confirmed the broken ribs,” Alena added.

“Katie did?” Well, that blew Haley’s theory out of the water that the ribs couldn’t have been broken. Katie was obviously a competent doctor. “Did she take X-rays?”

“Yes,” Alena said.

Nikolav smiled. “I know what you’re thinking, but we Russians have good genes. He’s perfectly fine.”

“Good genes? You’re full of shit. Nobody can heal from broken ribs that fast.”

Nikolav shrugged.

Sergei did too. “We can.”

Haley chewed on her lower lip, dropping the subject. Was there a correlation between the weird shots and strange healing powers? No one had mentioned that out loud. Surely they were all thinking it. Weren’t they?

She jumped when the door to the locker room opened, having gone inside her head so far her heart started racing.

It wasn’t Mikhail, however. It was the other guy, Sly “Kingman” Growder. And he grumbled as he passed them in the hall, stomping toward the rear exit and slamming it open hard.

A few seconds later, Mikhail and Ivan exited.

Ivan frowned and made no eye contact with anyone.

Mikhail met Haley’s eyes and smiled.

She didn’t have it in her to return exactly the same gesture. In fact, she was pretty sure she wore a frown similar to Ivan’s.

“What? You didn’t like the fight?” Mikhail teased, turning around and backing down the hallway while they all followed him. He heaved his bag up onto his shoulder higher and grinned.

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

He tipped his face back and laughed. “You’ll get used to it. It grows on you.”

She didn’t think there was a chance in hell of that happening, but she also wasn’t about to argue with him.

»»•««

Anton was sitting in his apartment enjoying a fantastic scotch and staring out at the city lights when his cell rang.

Annoyed, he grabbed the device from the end table next to him and took the call. “Millings. You and Dayton go to the fight tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Who won?”

“Ivan lost. Mikhail won.”

“Huh. Interesting. Ivan must be off his game.”

“Yep. But more interesting is that Mikhail is
not
. I know you paid Kingman a lot of money to demand this rematch, but what I don’t get is why? And why aren’t you pissed Kingman didn’t win?”

Anton chuckled. “Don’t give a fuck if he won. That wasn’t the point.”

“What
was
the point?” Millings asked, hesitation in his voice.

“To test Mikhail’s health. Apparently he was in perfect shape tonight.” Mikhail had always healed quickly from broken bones and cuts and scrapes. Hell, all six of the guys had. But how long would it last? For their entire lives? Anton wanted constant proof, and he hadn’t had any way to track Mikhail’s abilities for over a year.

“Looked like it to us, boss. Were you doubting it?”

“Nope. Not one bit. Did you take care of that other matter?”

“Yes, sir. We went into Sullivan’s apartment as soon as she and Dudko left for the fight. Their detail was on them. No one paid attention to us.”

“Good. Thanks for the call.” Anton smiled and took another sip of his scotch as he set the phone on his desk. Excellent news.

Of course he couldn’t prove Mikhail had been injured significantly three weeks ago, but his men assured him he wouldn’t be walking the streets again anytime soon.

And yet, there he was. Fighting like a professional. No sign of injury.

Splendid.

The question was—would he pass the next test? And more importantly, would Haley Sullivan?

“Alena seems to think you broke four ribs three weeks ago in an alley. What’s that all about?” Haley lowered herself onto the sofa.

They hadn’t spoken much on the way home. She didn’t want to risk distracting him while he drove, and she had so many questions, she didn’t know where to begin.

He headed to the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting around to hold it up toward her with raised eyebrows.

She shook her head. The last thing she needed was alcohol.

It was difficult enough to hold on to any sort of resolve around him as it was. The clean scent of his skin from his recent shower made her want to lean against him in the Jeep and inhale. His hair had been wet, dripping actually, when he stepped out of the locker room.

He’d put his street clothes back on, dark jeans, boots, and a navy T-shirt that hugged his pecs to perfection. Except for the small cut above his right eye, no one would know he’d been fighting. She peered at it closely as he lowered himself onto the sofa next to her and took a long swig of the beer.