Unbroken (Fighting for Gisele #3) (7 page)

Gisele threw her hands up. “You’ve got me all upset because you are apparently concerned for my welfare. This is all about my father’s insufficient inheritance?” She shook her head. “It’s not like you…or Yuri are hurting for cash. But if you think I’ll come begging to you…I won’t. So if that’s what this is all about, then tell Yuri he can relax. He won’t have to fork over any money to support my lifestyle.”

Alek seemed to settle down. It was obvious Gisele had no more to share with him, and she held her breath, hoping her brother was convinced that there
wasn’t
anything she’d held back. It was certainly an odd conversation, with Alek baiting her, and Gisele attempting to lie her way through it.

Before the tumultuous breakfast, Gisele had clung to a shred of faith that Alek’s brotherly love had been for real. She grappled with the truth, forced to admit he didn’t care about her, and that realization hurt.

But the annoying encounter wasn’t over yet.

“Anyway, you have a lot of nerve to demean my father, and make less of how he provided for me,” Gisele said. “I think breakfast is over. I just hope you aren’t going to be pissy the rest of the day, not if you expect me to work my shift later.”

Gisele figured it was best not to act intimidated. Her feisty response was one that Alek would expect, so she gave him what he sought.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” Alek said. “If this is your last day living here, then let’s at least be civil.”

Gisele didn’t relax, expecting some barb in his offer of kindness.

“Besides, you haven’t even opened your birthday gifts yet,” Alek said. “I had them brought here from the villa.”

Gisele glanced at the adjoining sitting room, where her presents were piled up on a table, still wrapped. “I’ve been distracted,” she said. “I’ll get to them.”

“Now is a good time,” Alek said. “I’ll join you.”

Since she didn’t want to appear ungrateful, Gisele followed him to the other room. It occurred to her that she could flatly refuse, and would be justified in doing so. But a wiser side of her thought better of that. If Alek was going to continue in his brotherly role, she wouldn’t fight him. The best thing would be to leave on good terms, with him thinking that she was innocent.

Keeping her cool, Gisele sat on one of the sofas and allowed Alek to hand her the gifts, one at a time. She didn’t dwell on what his purpose was, but knew it wasn’t to witness her joy in receiving gifts. It was more likely that he was prolonging their time together, hoping she’d confess or he’d come up with a way to make her do so.

It was awkward to open birthday gifts with Alek glowering at her. His attitude lessened any pleasure she might have gotten from the event. “If you can’t smile, I’ll open these later…alone,” Gisele said.

Alek’s lips thinned into what could hardly be called a smile.

“Hand me the first gift,” Gisele said, shoving her hands toward him.

The present was a diamond tennis bracelet that Alek had picked out for her. “You know I like jewelry,” Gisele said, wishing her brother would lighten up.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Next was a silk scarf from Abby, one that Gisele had fawned over on one of their shopping sprees. She put it over one shoulder and fingered the material. “She cheated,” Gisele said. “Abby knew I nearly bought this myself when I saw it.”

“Good color,” Alek said, looking at the bright blue scarf.

Her brother handed over a small package from Luke, and Gisele ripped away the multicolored paper. Inside was a Foo Fighters CD that she wanted but hadn’t gotten around to buying. “He has a good source of information…Abby.” Despite herself, Gisele smiled. It was nice of Luke to make the effort to get something she’d like.

Gisele opened more gifts, and Alek began to chill out. He even seemed interested in what she received, and appeared more relaxed. There were presents from some people she didn’t know all that well, but that Alek had invited to her party.

After digging through the bulk of the presents, Alek handed her one from Vik, and she tore open the paper. Gisele kept from making a sour face, and just opened the gift. It was an expensive bottle of perfume. She opened the top then lifted it to her nose, smelling the floral scent. “Nice,” she said, then set it aside.

There was a gift from Micah, and although Gisele would have preferred to open it privately, that wasn’t how the morning was going. She untied the ribbon and peeled back the gold paper to retrieve a tiny velvet box.

Gisele opened it and grinned, unable to hide her pleasure. Inside was a gold necklace with a pendant. She had to smile, because the pendant was a pair of tiny gold boxing gloves. Alek rolled his eyes but she didn’t pay any attention.

She took the lovely necklace from its box and put it on, then touched her fingertips to the pendant. Opening Micah’s gift was the best part of her morning, and she looked forward to thanking him properly.

Glancing at the table, Gisele saw only two packages left. She reached for the first and opened it to find a book of poetry, given to her by one of Alek’s business associates. “I’ll send him a thank-you note, along with the rest.”

Last was Yuri’s gift, and she was curious to see what he’d bought for her. As with Alek, his gifts were usually expensive but impersonal. The usual was jewelry or perfume. It was hard to go wrong with those.

While Alek watched, Gisele tore off the silver wrapping paper. The gift was inside a cardboard box that she could hold in one hand. She took off the lid and lifted out a jewel box. It was polished wood with delicate carvings, and she opened it to find that it was lined with blue velvet.

It was the ideal place to keep a gem, such as a priceless blue diamond. Gisele stared at the box, hiding her initial reaction.
A mobster with a morbid sense of humor
, she thought. Then she looked up at Alek, who waited for her to say something.

“That is a very expensive gift,” Gisele said. “Yuri must have put a lot of thought into it.” She smiled as if delighted with her present, and rubbed a fingertip over the velvet lining. “I’ll have to think of
something special
to keep inside.”

Breakfast was finally over, and Gisele left to go freshen up. Guests would be arriving soon, and she was expected to play hostess. She was sure the afternoon would drag, but after dinner the men would go off to play a game of poker. Then Gisele would make her exit.

Chapter 7

Gambling at the casinos was profitable when Micah was on a winning streak. And that Sunday while Gisele worked her shift at the complex, he was on a roll. He did well at roulette, then blackjack, showing very few losses.

Riding the thrill of victory, Micah found a poker game that suited him and anted up. He got off to a slow start, which proved to be a good thing. The players didn’t spot him as the pro he was until it was too late. Micah’s luck held, and he cashed out with his pockets full.

Since Luke was still at the blackjack table, showing no signs of quitting soon, Micah would have continued playing. But he got a text from Gisele that pulled him away from the games. She was finished with her shift and wanted to come over. That prospect was far more enticing than any poker game.

Micah’s day had started out well, and into the evening it was only getting better. Gisele took a cab to the hotel, and he was waiting when she arrived. The good news was that she didn’t have to work for her brother anymore, and could move out. That had lifted her spirits noticeably.

Gisele’s plan was to suffer apartment living until her condo was renovated and ready for move in. But that night she came to Micah and spent the night in his arms, as he preferred. Staying with him was a much better plan.

Micah was pleased to see that she wore the gold necklace, and liked the boxing-gloves pendant. He was no expert on gifts for women, so was glad the birthday present had been well received.

“This day has been grueling,” Gisele said. So she chose to tell him all about it some other time. The look in her eyes when she said, “I’d rather just be with you,” was all the encouragement Micah needed.

The rest of the evening was unforgettable, with Gisele in his arms and the outside world at bay. In those intimate moments when he was alone with her, Micah felt good inside. He didn’t dwell on his feelings, just rode the thrill as was his way, and hers as well.

Late in the evening, Micah fell asleep with Gisele tucked up next to him. His last memory was of how soft and warm she was. When he woke up early, he was reluctant to leave the sweetness of his bed. He nuzzled against Gisele and buried his face in her hair.

Micah was sorely tempted to bail on his commitment for the day to be with her instead. But he had to get to the gym; skipping a workout was not an option.

So instead of giving in to temptation, Micah dressed and slipped quietly out of the room to let Gisele sleep. As he rode the elevator down to the lobby, his heart warmed at knowing she was still asleep in his room. This time she’d brought a suitcase with her, and could stay for a couple of days. Micah could certainly get used to having her with him.

Later that day, Gisele had an appointment with her new apartment manager to get the key. Abby was going with her, and they’d have lunch. It was a relief that she was on her own now, and could do as she wished. She wasn’t safe yet, but it was a step in the right direction.

Micah had to get back to training; he had a fight coming up. And this was no average match, if there even was such a thing. Max Fromer posed a clear challenge, and might be one of the toughest opponents Micah had faced. Beating him had its obstacles, although not insurmountable ones.

So far, Micah was new enough in the Vegas circuit that he wasn’t known as a winner. Those that played the odds normally bet against him. And that had worked well for Luke, who bet their money on Micah. If Micah bested this monster from Germany, that situation would change. Conquering the
Brute
would be a definite coup.

After dressing and finding Harlan on the main floor, Micah warmed up by jumping rope. When he stopped to catch his breath, his coach enlightened him on the importance of mental attitude. “You have to understand, Micah, that some guy might beat your ass. But you’re not a quitter,” Harlan said.

“I thought we were talking about me winning?”

“You can’t win every time,” Harlan said. “Just because you lose, it doesn’t make you a loser.”

“I’m not planning to lose.”

The coach continued his speech undaunted. “I’m just saying that it’s not the same fight every time. Losing is part of the game.” His direct look gave Micah pause.

“Win or lose, there’s always another fight.” The coach hesitated for a beat, as if considering how to make Micah understand. “You aren’t magic, and having the illusion that you are is dangerous in the ring.”

“I appreciate the reality check,” Micah said. “Now push me hard, because I’m going to beat the son of a bitch.”

Harlan nodded. “I know you are.”

The coach was true to his word, and put Micah through his paces. For a while he wasn’t sure if he was getting stronger, or if he was going to die right there in the gym. By the time the session was over, Micah was sweating like a pig, sucking in oxygen like it was his last breath.

“Okay, go shower up and get out of here,” Harlan said. “Good food and lots of rest tonight…you hear me?”

Micah was too wiped out to reply; he just headed straight for the locker room. He was more determined than ever to win the upcoming fight. Pumped from his workout, he wished the guy was coming at him then. He’d enjoy beating the crap out of him.

While he showered, Micah thought about his strategy. The coach had been working on specific techniques that would be effective against such a formidable opponent. Harlan had studied the man’s style and geared Micah’s workouts accordingly.

Beating the guy would mean that Micah was no longer the underdog. Winning against Fromer would get attention, and event sponsors would know of Micah’s capabilities. It would alter the atmosphere in betting circles, but Micah didn’t care about that. His only concern was
winning
.

He dried off and got dressed, needing to get some food soon. His muscles were screaming for fuel and his stomach felt like it had been turned inside out. After locking up his bag, he headed out, dragging a bit but feeling good.

Gisele would be there when he got back to the room, so he walked a little faster, looking forward to seeing her. Wherever she wanted to eat would be fine with him, as when he was starving, food was food. And as long as there was plenty of it, Micah would be happy.

Harlan was in the office working on paperwork or something, and didn’t look up. Micah strode through the gym then shoved the door open. As was his practice, he went out the back, since it was a shorter route.

When Micah stepped into the alley, a blast of heat hit him. The weather was still hot as blazes, but the day was dark. While he’d been inside the gym, the sky had clouded up. Rain in Vegas was rare in summer, but did happen. Days ago, a few drops had fallen unexpectedly but had burned away as soon as they hit the ground.

This was different, though, and Micah tried to recall when the monsoon season started. He squinted and looked up at the sky. The alley was off the Strip, so it was quiet. He glanced at the clouds and sped up his pace, hoping to make it to the hotel before it rained.

As Micah turned the corner, two beefy-looking dudes stepped into his path. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that they were Russian mafia; they just had that look. The scowl was a giveaway. The one to the right was bulked up, making his shaved head look too big for his body.

The man on the left had long hair tied back in a greasy ponytail, and wore a black t-shirt that looked painted on to his thick musculature. Micah stopped and quickly assessed the situation. He could turn around, but they would follow.

Micah didn’t want to be jumped from behind. At least this way, he had them in sight. He watched to see if they were going to make a move. The ponytail guy spoke. “We’ve been expecting you, Micah.”

“What do you assholes want?”

“Our employer would like it if you got out of Vegas…
alone
.”

Micah squared his shoulders, preparing for battle. “I prefer to stay.”

The small-headed one smirked. “We asked nicely,” he said in his heavy Russian accent.

No stranger to street boxing, Micah was mentally prepared in an instant. The dynamics of such a fight were different from the ring. The cement, asphalt, and stairs in the scene were things to consider, as well as being in a confined space. The ring was controlled combat; this was not.

Size mattered, and Micah knew the bruiser with the shaved head had thirty pounds on him. He just hoped it wasn’t all muscle. Yet it wasn’t the first time that Micah had faced multiple attackers. Taking a look at these thugs, he wondered if the odds were tipped in favor of the bad guys, a situation where more than one boxer he’d known had met their demise.

The idiots had make one mistake, though, which was evidence that they weren’t trained boxers or even professional fighters. Instead of coming from behind, they’d squared off with Micah, which gave him a better chance to fend them off. Their foolhardy approach had given him ample warning, and they might just get their heads served up to them.

If Micah could land the first shot, the odds might shift to his favor. He was in no mood to box with them, but since he had to fight, the goal was to simply mow them down. There wasn’t going to be any type of setup, like he might have in a match. Micah knew the difference, and he intended to end this before it really got started.

When the big one lunged, Micah aimed for the neck up. He needed to get in one incapacitating blow to the head or neck of the larger attacker. The guy appeared to depend on his size and brute strength, so wasn’t exactly light on his feet.

Micah went for maximum power and hit the guy smack in the jaw with one of his thunder punches. He must have landed it well, as the man staggered and fell to the ground. There was no time to dwell on the knockout. The second attacker was already upon Micah.

Quickly sidestepping, Micah avoided the man’s swing. Instead of dealing with him from the front, which would afford the attacker the best opportunity to strike again, Micah shifted to the side. He didn’t want to be an easy target.

Moving like lightning, Micah came at the guy from an angle, and struck him from the side. This was no friendly sparring match. When the Russian growled like a bear, Micah planted an uppercut under the man’s chin. “Umph,” was the word the guy uttered, before he fell back against the iron fire-escape ladder, only inches behind him.

Stunned, the man shook his head, then looked up at Micah. It was time to get the heck out of there. The first guy appeared to be out cold. His partner glanced over at him, then back.

Micah held up his hand. “Don’t even think about it.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked the other way, arrogant enough to assume the mobster wouldn’t follow.

Striding at an even pace, Micah went back to the main street and headed toward his hotel. The gloomy day had turned grayer, and rain began to fall. It was weird, because Vegas got no more than a few inches of rain all year.

But it picked that day to rain, monsoon style. Walking faster, sidestepping other pedestrians trying to run for cover from the rain, Micah got drenched. The spectacular thunderstorm would have been something to see, had it not come at such an inopportune moment.

Micah reached his hotel and ducked inside, avoiding bedlam. Such a sudden deluge could produce flash floods, and Vegas was congested with traffic. The best place to be right then was indoors. He made it to the elevator and stepped in.

Flexing his right hand, Micah tried to loosen it up. He rubbed his wrist and bent his fingers into a fist. He hadn’t been hurt in the alley encounter, but he had smacked the thugs pretty hard. And now his hand hurt like hell.

When Micah entered the room, he heard Gisele in the bedroom. She was probably putting some of her stuff away. He glanced out the window and noted that the sky had calmed. The rain had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Gisele stepped into the room, still wearing the gold necklace. She noticed how wet he was. “I thought you probably got caught in the storm.” She smiled at him, but upon closer inspection, she frowned. “What’s wrong, Micah? Did something happen?”

“You could say so.”

“What is it?” Gisele looked him over, but other than looking like a soaked rat, he probably had no visible injuries. “You need to dry off.”

She got a towel from the bathroom and handed it to Micah. “What happened out there in the storm?”

Micah wiped off, then put the towel over his shoulder. He sat in one of the living room chairs and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “I ran into a couple of very unfriendly guys.”

Gisele sat across from him and wrinkled her brow. “Who?”

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Micah said. “But a couple of the mob’s puppets waited for me outside the gym.”

“Jesus.”

“They had a communication for me. It seems I’m not wanted in Vegas. It would be better if I left—without you, of course.”

“Goddammit.”

“As you can imagine…I refused.” Micah shrugged. “The idiots didn’t like that idea, so sought to make their point.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I thumped them pretty hard.” Micah flexed his hand. “I feel it, but I think I’m okay.”

Gisele shook her head. “It has to be the Kovalenkos. They want you out of the way. My brother wouldn’t set up an attack like that. I’m sure of it.”