Zel: Markovic MMA (7 page)

Normally he’d have been jumping at an ever-faster pace but he was dragging ass this afternoon. Between his night with Sara and the final push of cutting weight before the upcoming weigh-in, his energy level was less than optimal. Luckily, when he’d stepped on the scale upon arriving in Vegas five days earlier, he had only been seven pounds overweight after being on a strict pre-cut regimen. His bounce back starting tonight and tomorrow wouldn’t beat his body to hell.

Rumor had it that his opponent was tipping the scales over twenty-six pounds high. Mace had been fighting in the light heavyweight class for years, but he’d recently made the move to the next lower class in a bid for dominance and an advantage in the cage. It was a risk for a fighter that heavy and that big to go down a class, but Mace clearly felt he had no other choice. His career was played out in his division. He needed to make this new class work—or else his days fighting for money were over.

Ivan’s training philosophies didn’t include pushing his fighters to compete in weight classes so far outside their natural body sizes. He didn’t allow the fighters on his roster too get fat or out of shape in between fights either. He wanted them all within ten to fifteen pounds of their fighting class and eating clean most of the time. He had different ideas about long-term strength and endurance than many of his peers.

Some training camps encouraged—demanded—their fighters drop twenty or more pounds in a fight week and then gain all that weight back within twenty-four hours of their match. It was supposed to be a way to ensure a competitive edge over an opponent but it was fraught with risk.

Dehydration was no joke. Fighters suffered terribly. The huge swings of weight loss and weight gain were hell on the body and the mind. With the brain so dried up from the lack of fluids, it banged around in the skull with every hit and made the risk of serious concussions very high. He had known men who ended up in the hospital with serious heart issues after all the diuretics, caffeine, saunas and hot baths forced on them during the cut. Mixed-martial arts was dangerous enough without adding the strain of extreme weight loss.

Zel should have been concentrating on the weigh-in set to start in a few hours, but he couldn’t shake Sara from his mind. The tangled mess her late husband had left behind was a quagmire he shouldn’t wade into, but he couldn’t help himself. He should have run the other way the second he heard the name Lalo Contreras, but he couldn’t do it.

After a single night with Sara and a morning waking up with her in secure in his arms, he was totally and completely twisted up in her. Her delicious taste, her tantalizing smell—she hadd invaded his senses and taken hold. Zel wondered if he would ever escape the infatuation.

Do I even want to escape it?

His stomach rolled with heat at the memory of those thick thighs wrapped around his head. He could almost taste her. Her shrieks of pleasure echoed in his ears. He remembered the debauched expression on her face as he’d kissed his way up her belly afterward and—

He tripped on the rope and tumbled forward. “Shit!”

With that booming voice, Ivan shouted angrily as he surged across the gym floor. He let loose a string of swear words, jumbling together Russian, Albanian, Croatian, Spanish and English in a colorful way that would have been impressive if it hadn’t been directed at him. Snarling, Ivan demanded, “Get your mind off that pussy and on your foot work!”

Cringing at the public scolding, Zel unwound the rope from his ankle and stood. Abashed, he offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Ivan.”

“I don’t want to hear sorry. I want to see you focused! You lose your focus and you get hurt.”

Nodding contritely, Zel cleared his mind and focused on his routine. If Sara could affect him this badly after one night, he probably needed to steer clear until after his fight. He couldn’t risk any distractions, not with so much riding on the line. He desperately needed the prize money to satisfy his obligations.

But winning money wasn’t the reason Ivan had been riding him so hard in preparation for this fight. Ivan wanted him to be free of his debt, but his coach was more concerned about safety. Last year, Mace had killed a man in the ring with a vicious yet legal blow to the head. Zel tried not to dwell on it but the reality of the danger of stepping into the ring with Mace was very genuine. One misstep, one diversion—and he could be paralyzed or dead.

No. There was absolutely no room for error or distraction.

Or Sara.

That thought made him uncomfortable as he headed into the sauna. Even now he craved her. His willpower and determination had brought him this far in his life, but saying no to Sara? He wasn’t so sure.

And he’d promised to keep her safe. He had already made a personal visit down to the hotel’s security to ask them to be even more vigilant with her. A few signed autographs and fight night passes had been enough to ensure that she would be safe in the hotel. Outside on the streets of Vegas was another story. It would be so easy for a man like Ramsay to snatch her.

And then I’ll have to kill him...

The thought stampeded through his brain. It wasn’t an empty or dramatic thought. It was simply the truth. He wasn’t an underworld player. He didn’t live in the seedy underbelly of Houston. Yet, given the choice between letting Ramsay hurt Sara or taking him out, he wouldn’t hesitate or flinch. Her stepbrother was clearly a man who wasn’t afraid of the police or the law. He would hurt her and her family unless someone stopped him.

Eyes closed, head resting against the wall of the sauna, he breathed in the heated air and tried to fight that claustrophobic sensation gripping his gut. Whether it came from the thought of spilling blood to protect a woman he hardly knew or the damp and nearly unbearable heat surrounding him, he couldn’t tell. Breathing deeply, he reminded himself he only needed a short time in here today.

The door to the sauna opened, and Zel cracked an eyelid. He watched Ivan stride into the sauna, a crisp white towel tight around his waist. There was hardly an inch of Ivan’s skin that wasn’t covered in ink. Each tattoo told a part of Ivan’s story, each slash of blue or black ink another hint at the life of violence and crime he had lived.

Well—maybe not all of them. Zel zeroed in on the newer pieces decorating his coach’s body. They were all for Erin and told a different story, a story of something new and bright and filled with hope. He suspected those tattoos were Ivan’s version of love notes for his beloved wife.

Ivan had always loved a good steam room so Zel wasn’t surprised to see him in here today. There was a look on Ivan’s face that made him wary. Certain he was about to get an earful of advice and criticism from his coach, he steeled himself for the worst.

Ivan surprised him by chuckling darkly as he settled onto the bench and stretched out his legs. “You aren’t going to believe the phone call I just had.”

Zel’s chest tightened as he imagined all sorts of scenarios. Was it Besian telling Ivan that Lalo Contreras was dead? Was it Nikolai warning Ivan that shit was about to go down with Sara? Was the cartel headed this way to pressure Sara into giving them Lalo’s assets? Were the Feds coming here to shake her down and make trouble?

“Lyosha is here.”

Zel shrugged as he idly scratched his chest. Alexei coming to Vegas was nothing strange or out of the ordinary, certainly nothing to warrant the surprise on Ivan’s face. “He always comes to Vegas for his birthday.”

“He didn’t come alone. He brought that pretty little maid of his and took her straight to the courthouse.” Ivan paused for dramatic effect. “He’s going to marry her. Tonight.”

Shocked, Zel glanced back at Ivan. “Did you know it was that serious?”

“It had to be serious for him to stick his neck out like that for her,” Ivan answered matter-of-factly.

“The way you stuck your neck out for Erin?”

“The way you’re going to stick your neck out for Sara Contreras,” Ivan shot back with a knowing glance.

“Running off Sara’s stepbrother is nothing compared to the things you did for Erin or the things Alexei has done for the cleaning lady.”

“If you hang around Sara long enough, you’ll have to do the same things I did for Erin,” Ivan warned. “Maybe even worse.”

Because he needed advice and Ivan was the only man qualified to give it, Zel blurted out, “Lalo is dead.”

Ivan’s expression slackened. “Dead? You’re sure?”

Zel nodded. “That’s why Ramsay is in town. He seems to think he’s owed everything that Sara has just inherited.”

Ivan made a face. “That’s bad news, Zel. She’s going to have the DEA, FBI, the Texas Rangers and everyone else digging through her life. You don’t need that kind of shit in your life.”

He understood what Ivan was saying without saying it. If they were dating and the Feds started looking at Sara, they would start digging into his history. They might uncover things that men like Besian would rather keep hidden.

With a rough exhale, Ivan declared, “There is a lot of history with that woman that you don’t know.”

“She told me everything last night.” He glanced back at Ivan and met his coach’s hard gaze. “Everything. Besian. The dancing. Her marriage to Lalo. The drug deals. The fight at Besian’s club. Alexei bailing Besian out and hiding her away in Dallas after Besian rescued her. They money they gave her for her business.” He touched the mark that mirrored his on his own skin. “Her tattoo.”

“What she didn’t tell you is the things she doesn’t know that went down that night of the club attack,” Ivan grumbled. “She was this close,” he held his thick finger and thumb only a few centimeters apart, “from the end.” He slashed his hand across the front of his throat. “She’s lucky that so many people liked her and spoke up for her, but there’s still bad blood between her and Nikolai. She’ll never be allowed back in Houston.”

It was a subtle warning about possible future complications. Unbothered by it, Zel replied, “I’m not tied to Houston anymore. Not after tomorrow night.”

“If you win,” Ivan reminded him carefully.

“I’m going to win.” There was no other possibility in Zel’s mind. He had visualized the fight hundreds of times, thousands even. He was going to win—and then he was going to walk away a free man.

And maybe, if he was very lucky, he would be walking away with Sara right next to him.

“You better win.” Ivan stretched his arms high overhead and inhaled deeply. “If you don’t, Erin is going to have my ass when she finds out how much I have in Besian’s book for this fight.”

Zel pretended not to hear that. Illegal gambling with a known mobster would get them both in deep shit with the league.

“Alexei wants you at the wedding tonight. It’s at the Bellagio. I’ll text you the details when I get them.”

“I’ll be there.” He and Alexei had been friends since his first day in Houston. Alexei had been the one to help him find a cheap apartment close to the hospital and odd jobs to make ends meet.

“I told Alexei that Sara is in town. She’ll get an invite so you two may as well come together.”

An irrational flare of jealousy burned Zel as he remembered Sara’s story from last night. She had mentioned Alexei giving her seed money. Knowing what he did of Alexei’s reputation with dancing girls, he had to ask, “Sara and Alexei…?”

Ivan laughed and smacked Zel’s shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance. “No. Never. Not like that.” Smiling, Ivan added, “Alexei tried, but she wasn’t having it. They’re friends. That’s it.”

He felt like an asshole to be so relieved by Ivan’s assertion. Whatever Sara had done in her past life was none of his business—but he’d be a liar if he said that the thought of her in bed with Alexei hadn’t twisted up his insides.

“She was young when she made her mistakes.” Ivan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the sauna. “We were all fuck-ups at that age. She’s done right by her family and her friends. She squared things with Besian and Alexei. Hell,” Ivan exhaled a long, slow breath, “I’m sure if she asked nicely, Nikolai would lift his banishment and welcome her back into the city. We’ve all moved on since then.”

“I’m ready to move on,” Zel said, the thought coming to him suddenly. It might have been the dehydration and heat, but he felt giddy and lightheaded. “I’m ready to start living again.”

Ivan eyed him closely. “If she made you wake up and want to live again after one night in her bed, she must know some special tricks.”

Zel shot him the finger, and Ivan laughed.

More serious now, Ivan said, “That’s good, Zel. It’s very good. You need to live. Your little boy was so special. He was such a good kid. He was always happy and smiling, and—forgive me—but I think he wouldn’t like to see you this way. Sad. Withdrawn. Alone.” He shook his head. “I was alone for too long. If Erin hadn’t come into the gym that day, I would still be a miserable, lonely bastard. She changed my life, and I’m a lucky man for that. If Sara can do that for you? Let her.”

Ivan’s advice rattled around in his head as Zel finished up his time in the sauna, took a long shower and then stepped on the scale. He was three pounds under the limit for the middleweight class. Pleased, he stepped off and went in search of a bottle of water. He sipped it slowly, just enough to wet his mouth, and moved to a quiet, relaxed corner of the locker room to wait.

After the highly publicized weigh-in at six o’clock, he would have just enough time to change into a suit and head to the Bellagio for Alexei’s wedding. He wouldn’t be able to stay long after the ceremony. He needed to rehydrate and start fueling his body for the grueling contest that awaited him.

“Here.” Ivan waved a cell phone. “Your phone was ringing in your locker.”

Zel caught it and glanced at the screen. He had a missed call from Sara and had a text message waiting. He swiped his thumb over the screen and tapped in his code so he could read it.

I’m sure you’ve heard the good news! No better way to spend a Friday night than a Vegas wedding! <3 <3 <3

His thumb hesitated over the screen of his phone. He wasn’t good at flirting via text. Hell, he wasn’t very skilled when it came to flirting in person. He finally tapped out a message and hit send, all the while hoping she would say yes.