The Fighter's Defiant Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 4) (7 page)

Las Vegas, Nevada

“You all ready to rumble?” Beck asked. He stepped out of the hotel where he and his brothers were staying along with Dustin, Jay, and several of their other MMA friends.

Mason had spread word that Jimmy Tressor was still running an underground fighting ring, and volunteers had come out of the woodwork to have a special weekend and participate in cleaning up their sport. Underground fighting had been a black eye on MMA for too long. It was time to make sure Jimmy Tressor was sent a very strong message.

Dustin glanced at Beck. “I managed to meet Frankie through one of Jasmine’s dancer friends—two drinks and he spilled the location of tonight’s fight. Seems Vegas’ finest have been cracking down on the illegal fight clubs, so they’ve been having to move fights to a new location each month.”

“So Frankie know we’re coming?” Bryant asked.

Dustin smiled. “I made sure he knows
I’m
coming. He doesn’t know I’m bringing a few friends.”

Mason and Jay shared a high five, and Mason grinned. “I just love surprises. Let’s get this show on the road.”

As they headed for their cars, Bryant said, “You all know there is no way this is not going to make the tabloids. Someone is bound to recognize at least one of us. If we’re filmed at an illegal fight tonight, it’s end of any legitimate fighting careers.”

Beck and Dustin shared a look with Bryant and Mason, Dustin said, “If things go right, none of us will have to fight. This is about scaring the competition and making sure no one gets hurt.”

Jay shook his head. “I still don’t understand how this is supposed to help Jasmine with her ex.”

“Asshole. I believe Jasmine calls him the asshole,” Mason said.

Dustin nodded. “Frankie is a nobody. It’s his association with Jimmy Tressor that’s the problem. We need to make sure Tressor has other things to think about.” He glanced at Mason. “You have any luck with that phone call this afternoon?”

Mason gave him a thumbs up. Beck and Bryant shared a look. Both of them stopped in the parking lot, and Beck crossed his arms over his chests. “Spill it! What are you and Dustin up to?”

Mason smiled. “Anders has some friends with connections to some of the Feds who work this area. I thought we needed a little more background. I just heard back today that Tressor actually runs a very small section of the strip. Seems he works for Dmitri Aknos, and all his fight stuff has been on the side—Tressor trying to expand on his own.”

Jay gave a low whistle and Bryant asked, “Aknos? Isn’t he some kind of Greek-shipping billionaire? Didn’t realize he was organized crime.”

Mason shook his head. “That’s where things get interesting. Aknos has been clean. Until a few months ago when he married the daughter of Russian mob leader, Mikhail Blasnovich. That made him a person of interest as far as the Feds were concerned. But from what Ander’s contact said, Aknos has been trying to stay squeaky clean. The guy also has a major stake in Brock Maken—that’s who I called today.”

Beck straightened. “Maken. He’s one of the best fighters in the MMA.”

Dustin nodded. “And if Aknos gets mixed up with illegal fighting, he’ll get banned from MMA—meaning he’ll lose his stake in Maken. I don’t think Aknos is going to be happy to find out one of his guys is playing him for a fool.”

***

They had to take two SUVs to the edge of Vegas and an abandoned strip mall—the location of the fight. The place had good security, and plenty of action, judging by the full parking lot. Mason stayed outside with his phone. He looked worried, and Dustin just hoped that part of the plan worked.

Stepping inside, Dustin glanced around. They’d split up just outside the door. No sense tipping their hand. Dustin stuffed one fist into his coat pocket. It’d taken every ounce of control not to punch Frankie when he’d met the guy earlier. But this was about Jasmine, and making sure she was going to be safe. So Frankie was just a way to get to Jimmy Tressor.

Dustin saw Frankie near the bar. Skinny, hair short in back and long in front, Frankie might have been a good looking guy at one time but the drugs were taking a toll. He had shadows under his eyes now and a lined face. His hands shook most of the time, and he had the sniffling nervousness of someone doing too much coke. And meth and who knew what else.

Heading for the bar, Dustin heard someone mention his name. He had a name now—this was a fight crowd so folks would recognize him. But he also heard Beck’s name mentioned, and then Bryant. The Burton brothers always made news. Murmurs in the crowd increased, but Dustin headed to the bar.

“Hey, Frankie,” he said to the guy, giving him a nod.

Frankie turned. He stood next to an older man. Jimmy Tressor, Dustin knew, recognizing the guy from his photos. Mid-fifties, still fit, dark hair and eyes, Jimmy dressed like a player. A gold and diamond ring glinted on one finger, and he held a cut-crystal glass in one hand with what looked like Scotch. His sleek, black suit fit him like it’d been made for him, which it probably had. He wore his shirt open at the neck and Dustin could see a gold chain glinting.

“Hey—Dustin Caldwell! Glad you could make it. Jimmy—told you some talent would be stopping by. Oh, hey, Jimmy Tressor, this is Dustin Caldwell—the guy who had that amazing fight in Seattle.”

Jimmy held out a hand for Dustin to shake, but Dustin put up his hands. “Sorry, I have to watch the hands. These are the way I make my money.”

Eyes narrowing, Jimmy dropped his hand. “Seems a hard way to make money—getting your face pounded.”

Dustin smiled. “You know an easier way to make some real money?”

Shaking his head, Jimmy turned away. Dustin glanced around. The fights would be starting soon—if he didn’t get Jimmy on the hook now, good fighters might have to get pounded for no good reason.

He saw Beck and Bryant at the other end of the bar and nodded to them. Stepping closer, he ordered a beer. He knew Jimmy was watching him. Jimmy turned back to Dustin. “That’s right—you know the Burtons, don’t you.”

“Sure do.”

Jimmy licked his lips. Frankie gave a lopsided grin. “That’d be something—get the Burtons fighting here. We’d clean up on the action.”

“Action?” Dustin asked.

Jimmy smiled. “Side bets. That’s where the real money is, kid. You want to get in on some of it? I might be able to arrange that—if you could arrange one of the Burtons to fight tonight.”

Dustin smiled. “What kind of cash are we talking about?”

Frankie started to answer, but Jimmy shot him a look. “Say—a bet of two thousand? Two to one odds on one of your Burton brothers?”

Sipping his beer, Dustin shook his head. “Are you kidding. The Burtons don’t even show up for a fight unless the purse has six figures.” He looked around and put his beer down. “You said this place had real action, Frankie. Guess you got it wrong.”

He started to turn away—but he kept the move slow.
Don’t let me get away
, he thought.
Come on, Jimmy—you want my money, don’t you?

Jimmy put a hand on his arm. “Uh…Caldwell? Dustin? I can call you Dustin, can’t I?” Dustin glanced at the hand touching him. Jimmy dropped his hand to his side. “I don’t usually let anyone new in on the real deal, but what if you could make a cool five-hundred K tonight?”

Dustin leaned in closer. “I’m listening.”

Jimmy smiled. “You want the real money. Take the bet—against one of the Burtons. And then get your friend to drop early. Make it look good. Real good. Have him go down under a punch. It’s underground, right, so no big deal for any fighter to take a dive here. It’s not like there’s a title at stake or even a reputation. Just a lot of money to be had.”

“Half million? Jimmy, that’s a lot of money.”

Glancing at Frankie, Jimmy moved away from the man. He leaned in closer to Dustin. “Your share of my cut. Straight off the top.”

Dustin frowned. “You don’t have a boss looking over your shoulder?”

Jimmy waved away the idea. “The man only looks at the books I show him—let’s just say he pays me so he doesn’t have to know anything.”

Nodding, Dustin said, “Let me go talk with Beck and Bryant. I don’t know if I can convince them.”

“Try.” Jimmy looked around and then narrowed his eyes. “Try real hard. Just make sure we’ve got a sure thing going.”

Dustin headed over to Beck and Bryant. He glanced from one guy to the other. “One of you want to take this?” he asked. “Tressor’s ready to bet on you losing.”

Beck grinned, but Bryant put a hand on his brother’s arm. “No, this one’s mine.”

Backing down, Beck gestured for him to go ahead. Bryant started for the cage in the center of the barren room, now packed with spectators. Dustin stepped up to him. “You sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure. Trust me.”

Dustin swallowed a dry mouth. His brother had died in a place like this—he didn’t want that happening to Bryant. But he wanted this place shut down. “Make it look good.”

Bryant offered back a feral grin. He stripped off his shirt and stepped into the cage. Dustin could see bets flying—most of the action favoring Bryant. But a few were ready to bet on the young guy now stepping into the ring to fight.

Dustin had to do a double take—the young guy was Jay. Dustin smothered a grin. No wonder Bryant had been so sure no one would be hurt—he was rigging the fight his own way.

Dustin shook his head—he’d have to talk to Jay afterwards. This was still a big risk. Dustin glanced over and saw Jimmy taking bets—or rather Frankie was taking the bets and holding the money. Tressor was an idiot to trust Frankie with that kind of cash.

The fight started up. Bryant and Jay circled, swapped a few punches and moves. Jay tried to take Bryant down, but Bryant dodged the move. Dustin waited. Two moves later, Jay threw a punch. Bryant went down. A gasp rose from the crowd. Dustin looked over and saw Tressor grinning. He glanced back to the ring to see Bryant scissor Jay’s legs out and take him down. He had Jay pinned in two more seconds. Jay tapped out, and the fight ended.

The crowd went crazy. Dustin glanced over to see Tressor—and Frankie—headed his way. Tressor looked red-in-the-face angry, Frankie looked pale and nervous.

Coming up to Dustin, Tressor yelled, “You double-crossing bastard. You were supposed to have your friend there take a fall! I’ve just lost two million! How the hell am I going to cover that?”

“Really?” The voice cut across Tressor’s words. Tressor turned, confusion tight on his face.

A man stood next to Tressor, lean and immaculate in a leather jacket and dark trousers. Dmitri Aknos looked rich, and left Tressor looking cheap. Brock Maken stood next to him, a tall hulk of a guy.

Aknos raised his eyebrows. “Two million? Would that be two million of my money—or yours?”

Tressor pressed his lips tight. He darted a stare at Dustin, but he had balls enough to stay where he stood. Dustin could already see Frankie inching away. Tressor pushed out his chest. “Mr. Aknos, you shouldn’t be here.”

“At an illegal fight, where I might be arrested?”  Aknos glanced around. “I believe I own this facility, meaning if the police do come, I would be involved. This is how you use my money?”

“No, sir!”

“Ah, so you fund this event? How? With the money I do not see on my books? It seems I pay you so I don’t have to know anything—is that right?”

Tressor shot a look at Dustin. The guy knew now that Dustin had worn a wire—it was actually easier than that to leave a cell phone on and have Mason pick up the call. Mason had also called Maken to get Maken to convince Aknos to stop by.”

Glancing around, Dustin saw Frankie slipping out the side door. “Don’t look now, but there goes the money you were holding for the bets. You’re about to have a lot of sore losers around.”

Tressor glanced around, didn’t see Frankie, and cursed. “He’s the man you want, Aknos. That damn druggie is the guy who—”

“Enough,” Aknos said. He lifted a hand. Two burly security men closed on Tressor. Aknos nodded to a third. “Shut it down. Pay these people and tell them to go home.” He glanced at Dustin. “You as well. I recommend you forget where you were this evening, and this matter will be as if it never happened. Now, Mr. Tressor, let us talk about how you plan to repay me for my losses—and I think perhaps my father-in-law might wish a word with you. In Moscow.”

“But Fran—?”

“Will you disappoint me by trying to blame this on a man who is obviously a worm? I expect he will spend your money—or rather, mine—on drugs. I don’t care about that—or him. I care that you have put me in a bad spot. I cannot allow that. So, yes, I think Moscow is indicated.”

Aknos glanced at Dustin. Hands up, Dustin backed away. This wasn’t his show now. He headed for the doors. Outside, he found Mason, Beck, Bryant, Jay and their other friends. Dustin slapped a hand on Bryant’s shoulder. “Jasmine can rest easy from here on out. I think Frankie’s going to disappear for a long, long time. And same goes for Tressor.”

Mason grinned. “Sounds like we need a night out now.”

Dustin nodded. But what he really wanted was to get back home—now he could ask Jasmine to move in with him. And she had no reason not to, right?

When Dustin stepped off the plane and into the terminal, he was greeted by a crowd—a Burton crowd. He spotted Jasmine at once. She stood in front of a wheelchair that held Chaz. He wanted to sweep Jasmine into his arms, but he had to settle for a kiss on her check and a hand around her waist. Then he had to greet Chaz.

“Hey buddy. Feeling better?”

Chaz nodded. A surgical mask covered his face, and he’d been wrapped in a blanket to keep out any drafts. With his compromised immune system, it wouldn’t take anything stronger than a common cold to put his life in jeopardy. But he happily rattled off what he’d been doing and how ‘Aunt Jasmine’ was going to buy him ice cream later.

Several minutes later, they all headed towards the parking garage. Beck, Rachel and Chaz headed back to the hospital. Mason and Avery left together, but not until Avery had made a hasty trip to the ladies room. “I’m peeing like a race horse,” she’d admitted to Jasmine.

When she finally had Dustin to herself, Jasmine turned on him. “Okay, was this your big surprise? You going to Vegas to deal with Frankie?”

“You don’t really need to know the fine details, but Jimmy and Frankie are no longer a problem for you.”

“What did you do?” She leaned against the car door, arms folded. “I’m not leaving here until I hear it.”

Dustin shook his head. “We broke up an illegal fight. Tressor’s boss is a big supporter of MMA and let’s just say he was disappointed to find out what was being done without his approval.”

Jasmine’s eyes grew wide. “Jimmy Tressor has…I mean had a boss?”

“You ever heard of Dmitri Aknos? He’s not a bad guy. Little scary, actually, but heck with his kind of money he could buy the MMA circuit.”

Dustin trailed a finger down her cheek, “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Jasmine leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have, and by that I mean you
really
should not have, but thank you.”

He opened the car door for her and got it. When he had the engine going, Jasmine turned to him. “Are you mad at me? I mean—for making this mess in the first place. You just seem kind of quiet.”

He glanced at her and smiled. “Well, it did occur to me after dealing with Jimmy and Frankie—you can head back to Vegas if you want.”

“If? What if I don’t want?”

He stopped at the exit and faced her. “Jasmine, I was going to surprise you, but that’s not working out so hot. The surprise was I wanted to buy a house—your house. Our house. I’ve got an agent looking, but so far I haven’t liked any of the places, but now…Jasmine, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Right now I don’t know if that’s going to be here, or in Vegas, but honey, where you go, I go. So if you want to head back to Vegas—and the cat you left behind, that’s where we’re going.”

Jasmine lifted her hand up and cupped his cheek. “I think maybe I might like that. I mean, not the Vegas part. I hated Vegas, and if I try to take Timmon from Mrs. Maxwell now, she’ll sue me for cat custody, so I’m not going to try. And…well, I do missing the dancing, but not so much now that I’m teaching dance and yoga. And…would you mind if I stay? If
we
stay here?”

Dustin watched her for a minute, searching her face. ”Really?”

“Really.” She laughed as he dragged her across the console and kissed her breathless. When he began to deepen their kiss, she gently pushed him away. “We’re still in the car.”

Dustin looked around himself and then laughed. “So we are. Let’s go home. I want to make love to you. For a long, long time.”