Submit (The Underground Book 4) (23 page)

“Followed Nikolav and Belinda Gallo tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“They went to a party at some Italian restaurant. Turns out her parents own it. It was her brother’s birthday.”

Anton sat up straighter. “She close with her family?”

“Seems that way.”

“Excellent.” That could work in his favor. Information was power.

“You need anything else, sir?”

“Not right now. I’ll call you.” There was no sense mixing his personal life with business. Dayton and Milling didn’t know Anton’s father was dying. And he didn’t intend to share that information. None of their damn business. He set the phone on the table beside him and downed the rest of the vodka in one long drink.

The next night Nikolav drove to the speakeasy in silence.

He watched Belinda out of the corner of his eye multiple times. She’d been quiet all day.

Granted, she’d also been at work most of the day, insisting she needed to be at the office even though it was the weekend. Something was bugging her, but he didn’t want to force her to tell him if she wasn’t ready.

It made him nervous, though. Had he pushed her too far last night? Had she misunderstood everything he told her about her holding the power?

It was possible she just needed time to process the information and her reaction to his dominance. It was conceivable she was unnerved by the way she responded to restraints. He needed to back off and let her think it through.

He hoped.

As he pulled over near the back entrance to the venue, she turned to face him with a fake smile. “This is it?”

“Yes.” At least she’d agreed to wear what he chose for the evening. Jeans, a pink T-shirt, and her cute boots. The T-shirt was V-neck and too tight, but it didn’t seem she owned anything that wasn’t. Or maybe it was just him. Probably every other woman on the planet was dressed similarly. He just found her sexy in anything. Besides, once she added a jacket, she was more fully covered.

She glanced around. “I don’t see anything.”

He chuckled. “You will.” He looked out every window with great caution before climbing from the SUV and rounding to her side. He took her hand and led her to the narrow green door. Two sharp knocks and it opened. “Hey, Bruce. How’s it going tonight?”

“Place is packed. You’ll make a lot of dough if you win.” He grinned as Nikolav passed by him with Belinda at his side.

“Let’s hope I do.”

He led her down a long, narrow, dimly lit hall.

“It’s so quiet,” she muttered.

“Yeah. The place is sound tight. As soon as you step out of this back hall into the main bar, you won’t be able to hear a word without screaming over everyone.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Mikhail and Haley are going to meet us here in a minute. You’ll go with them to watch. Do not leave Mikhail’s side for a second.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. I don’t want to worry about you. I need to know you’ll be okay while I’m fighting.”

“I said I would, Nikolav,” she snapped. “I will.”

He frowned as he wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned against the wall next to the locker room with her between his spread legs. He kissed her, but she barely returned the gesture. “You okay?”

“Yes. Just nervous, I guess. I’m not sure this is something I can stomach.”

Was that it? Could be. He didn’t think so, but maybe she was being so quiet and snippy out of concern for him fighting. “I’ll be fine. I can beat this guy blindfolded.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“You don’t believe me?” He tried to lighten the mood with a little humor. “Wait until you find out what my fighting name is.”

“What is it?”

“Mmm. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Badass? Tough guy? The dominator?” Her words were meant to be funny, but he didn’t think she was completely kidding. There was a lilt in her voice that told him she was being overly sarcastic.

“No. None of those.”

The entrance they came in opened again, and soon Mikhail and Haley stepped down the hall.

“Hey.” Haley smiled as she took in the way Nikolav held her friend.

Interestingly enough, Belinda pushed herself out of his embrace to stand on her own. “Guess we’ll see you in there.”

“Yes…” He grabbed her hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Of course.”

She so was not.

∙
•
∙

Belinda followed Haley and Mikhail to another door farther down the hall and around a sharp corner. The damp mustiness of the narrow corridor made her feel like she’d stepped back in time. In a way she had. This place was built about a hundred years ago, and from the looks of it, it hadn’t changed much in all that time.

When Mikhail opened a nearly hidden door on the right, the hall filled with noise. He leaned his head into the room and then grabbed Haley by the hand and Belinda by the shoulder to usher then inside.

Belinda was surprised by a number of things at once. The place was filled with smoke, mostly from cigars she surmised, and the stench of alcohol. The noise came from wall-to-wall people all screaming on top of each other—shouting words Belinda couldn’t begin to hear with any specificity.

The floor was sticky. With every step she took, her shoes clung to the uneven floor. She glanced down to see the original stones still in place, the dirt between them having worn away with time.

“Come on. Let’s try to get a little closer,” Mikhail shouted over the roar of voices. He wormed his way between the patrons, a firm grip on both women, until he was within yards of the fenced area in the center.

Belinda rose onto her tiptoes to see what was happening. She had no idea who was fighting. She didn’t recognize either fighter from the gym Nikolav went to. Nevertheless, she watched, hoping to better understand the sport before Nikolav came into the ring.

Futilely, because unlike practice, a real fight was brutal. The men looked like they intended to fight to the death.

Haley and Mikhail spoke to each other behind her, but she couldn’t hear more than a few words now and then over the volume of the patrons.

When the fight ended, one man lay on the ground nearly comatose, and the other man lifted his hand in victory. The crowd got louder, half of them cheering for the victor, half of them groaning over the loser.

It took a while for two men to wipe the sweat and blood off the floor with their mops, and then the referee returned and announced the next fighters.

The first guy lifted his arm as his name was yelled through the microphone. “Rodrigo ‘Lightning Bolt’ Sanchez.”

Mikhail leaned forward to speak near Belinda’s ear. “He’s new to the Chicago circuit.”

She nodded, watching intently as Nikolav lifted his arm next.

She didn’t hear much of what the announcer said after “Nikolav ‘The Impaler’ Andropov.”

She twisted around to ask Mikhail, “Why do they call him that?”

Haley giggled. “As in Ivan the Impaler. He’s a vampire. Don’t you think Nik looks like a vampire?”

Belinda laughed.
Of course
. No wonder he’d left that detail for her to hear at the last second. Good one. She sincerely hoped his name was strictly related to his looks and he didn’t intend to actually impale someone.

A bell sounded, and the two men began to bounce around each other as if sizing up the competition before Nikolav threw a left hook at his opponent.

The guy dodged to one side to miss the blow and spun around in a circle to come at Nikolav with a high kick to his bicep. Maybe it was called a round house.

The two of them bounced around in the fenced area for several minutes, each throwing an occasional punch or kick but neither making any substantial progress.

Haley said something about wanting to see better, which made Mikhail laugh. “Nik will have the guy in a submission hold in no time. It’s his shtick.”

Belinda squeezed Haley’s arm, using her as leverage to lift onto her tiptoes. “That’s so violent. I can’t believe you guys enjoy this.”

“Pays the rent,” Mikhail stated.

“Lots of ways to pay the rent.” Belinda couldn’t bring herself to glance away from the cage. “Looks like he’s going to kill that guy. Aren’t there any rules? Why is the referee just standing there?” Abram had told her there were no rules, but she hadn’t believed he was serious.

Mikhail chuckled. “Few rules in this sport. Especially the underground. Best not to severely injure the guy or gouge his eyes out. Also in Nik’s best interest not to go for the kidneys or the balls. Fighters frown on that. If you piss them off in the ring, they’re liable to retaliate out of the ring.”

“Jesus. Why did I agree to come watch this?” A shiver raced down Belinda’s spine.

“Because you think Nikolav is sexy?” Haley giggled. “It was your idea to have Mikhail hook you up with one of his friends.”

Belinda swatted at Mikhail’s arm. “Yeah, about that. When I suggested you set me up, I didn’t mean while I was leaning over the toilet vomiting my guts out. Do you know how humiliating that was?”

Mikhail shrugged. “Hey, it was the best choice at the time. And besides, you needed someone for protection. I was uneasy about you being in your apartment alone.”

“You could have waited a few days until I was coherent. That man held my hair, for Christ’s sake. While I puked. Dozens of times.” She twisted back to watch Nikolav in the cage.

Mikhail chuckled. “Women. I’m quite sure Nik doesn’t give two shits about you being sick.”

Belinda rolled her eyes. “Men.”

Haley leaned close to Belinda’s ear again. “MMA is kinda sexy, though. It’ll grow on you.”

Belinda cringed. “I’ve been to their practices. Gross.”

Haley laughed. “Yeah. Okay. That too. But a room full of freakishly hot men with huge muscles, not an ounce of fat, and sexy tattoos. How can you go wrong? Who cares about the smell of sweat?”

Belinda lowered to her flat feet to give her calves a moment to recuperate, and the crowd shouted louder. She strained her neck and lifted back onto her toes to find Nikolav on the ground. He had one arm wrapped around Sanchez’s neck. It looked so awkward with Nikolav on his back, Sanchez against his stomach, and Nikolav’s legs wrapped around Sanchez’s chest.

She winced.

“Don’t worry. It always looks worse than it is,” Haley shouted.

“How is that possible?” Belinda asked.

“Submission hold.” Mikhail nodded toward the cage. “The guy is done for. He’ll tap out as soon as he realizes he can’t fix this with his airway constricted.”

His airway?
“Nik will choke him?”

Mikhail shook his head. “Not all the way. Just almost.”

Seconds passed slowly while Belinda held her breath. It truly looked as though Sanchez would choke to death the way he flailed around straining for purchase and failing. Finally, he slapped the ground with one hand.

Nikolav bounded to his feet immediately, holding his arm up in victory.

Sanchez rolled onto his elbows and knees, holding his neck and gasping for oxygen.

“Nope,” Belinda declared.

“No what?” Haley laughed.

“Can’t do it. Too gross. That’s enough for me.”

Mikhail wrapped a hand around Belinda’s bicep and led her to the back of the room with Haley on his other side. “That’s all we’re staying for anyway.” He scanned the room constantly. If it appeared anyone had followed them to the fight, he didn’t say anything. And Belinda was afraid to ask. There were some things she’d rather not know.

»»•««

Anton steepled his hands in front of him, his elbows on the edge of his father’s bed. He hadn’t cried since he was a toddler. But today he would make an exception.

This man was his father. His own flesh and blood. They’d fled Russia together with nothing but a few suitcases and a backpack filled with notes and formulas and names.

Anton’s mother had died when he was young. He’d been an only child, raised by a man who worked for the KGB. It wasn’t a coincidence that Anton had followed in Grigory’s footsteps and taken a menial job with the same government agency as his father as soon as he graduated from school.

But the USSR had collapsed months later, and Anton had found himself in a foreign land within days.

Grigory was smart, though. He’d settled in New York and made himself known, intent on making as much money as possible as quickly as possible so they could use the cash to fund their research.

And here they were, over twenty years later, with nothing to show for all their hard work.

No. That wasn’t true. Anton knew the drug they’d developed was close to completion. Weeks. Months. But none of that mattered as far as Grigory was concerned. He would never see the results.

And he hadn’t reaped the benefits…

Anton froze for the tenth time that hour as Grigory fought to take another breath. Each inhale was getting farther from the last. A few times he’d exhaled and gone several seconds before inhaling again.

It was excruciating.

“How’s he doing?” Viktor whispered as he approached the end of the bed.

Anton closed his eyes and set his forehead on his palms. He didn’t need to respond. Grigory hadn’t woken up in more than twenty-four hours. It was only a matter of time. Minutes. Perhaps an hour.

Viktor set a palm on Anton’s shoulder. “So sorry. I know how much he means to you.” And then he left the room.

Funeral arrangements had already been made.

It pained Anton to prepare for that inevitability, but it had proven to be easy. Grigory had left a folder with Viktor that outlined everything he wanted. Two phone calls, and Anton was back at his father’s side.

The waiting was horrific. Watching the man take his last breaths made Anton wish for a quicker exit for himself.

He knew he was a world-class asshole of the highest order. He’d killed more men than he could count. And ordinarily he didn’t give a fuck and a half. Everyone who had died at his hands had deserved it.

With the possible exception of the dozen homeless people he’d taken off the streets lately. But their lives were doomed to failure anyway, he rationalized. Expendable. A necessary evil for the betterment of the rest of society.

If Anton could just figure out the missing link and get his drug to work for everyone, he would be a billionaire overnight.