Submit (The Underground Book 4) (4 page)

Nikolav stiffened. “On his behalf, it should have been perfectly safe. He had no way of knowing Belinda was a journalist or that she was digging around in this story. Had she come and gone from Haley’s place without FBI intervention, no one watching outside the apartment would have ever known who she had visited.”

Sergei sat up straight. “Then why did he have the FBI take her home? Now she has a black target painted on her forehead.”

Nikolav took a long sip of the coffee Alena handed him. He’d thought through every scenario dozens of times in the last twenty-four hours since Mikhail had called him and asked him to go babysit Belinda. “He could have. Hell, he could have called a cab or Uber. But that would have only bought Belinda about a day. Because that woman is determined to hit the streets tonight to get her story.

“No matter how you look at it, she’s safer now that we’re aware of her intentions.” He shuddered, shaking images of her being abducted by Yenin’s men just to keep her quiet. Yenin wasn’t known for his kindness, either. He would find Belinda irresistible and take her to his bed before the day was over.

Nikolav didn’t need to wonder what kind of sex partner his old manager was. The guy was ruthless. He liked to beat his women into submission and fuck them until they were broken. Nikolav knew this firsthand because it happened to Lauren before Dmitry rescued her. And it would have happened again if Dmitry hadn’t eventually left the country with her.

Belinda was tiny. No way could she possibly ward off any advances from Yenin. And with her long, thick, black hair and big dark eyes she would have Anton Yenin salivating.

In reality, she probably already did. His men would have reported her leaving Haley’s apartment with the FBI and followed her home. By now, there was little doubt Yenin had people stationed to watch her. Nikolav was certain they would have followed him taking her to work this morning and were now positioned outside her office.

He hadn’t said quite that much to Belinda this morning, but he insisted she not leave the building for any reason.

Damn she was hot. It would have been easier if he had arrived at her apartment twenty-four hours ago to find her to be too fat or too skinny or too short or too tall or any number of things that wouldn’t appeal to his tastes in women.

But no. His best friend sent him to take care of a woman who took his breath away from the moment she opened the door, even though her eyes were sunken, her hair a messy disaster, and her face pale from sickness.

He nearly swallowed his tongue at first sight.

And this morning… Jesus. Belinda Gallo looked like a cover model when she came out of her bedroom, dressed to kill in those heels, that tight skirt, and a nearly see-through blouse. Her hair was tamed to perfection, hanging down her back in thick waves. Her eyes weren’t nearly as sunken. Her makeup…

Remembering how she’d looked in her dark purple shirt and black yoga pants made him nearly groan out loud. Her breasts were amazing, a fact he’d noticed dozens of times. Full. Heavy. They sat high on her chest even without a bra. Until this morning, he hadn’t seen her in a bra. And her nipples had teased him mercilessly through the material of her shirt all damn day.

He fidgeted at the table, taking another drink of his coffee while reminding himself how absurd it was to entertain thoughts of what color Belinda’s nipples might be when he’d only met her yesterday and she’d been deathly sick for over half the hours he’d known her.

Ivan wandered closer and leaned his palms on the back of the chair opposite Nikolav. “How do you figure she’s safe? You just dropped her off at work a half an hour ago. And she still thinks she’s going to interview homeless people in the streets in a few hours.”

“Yeah. I know. But she was going to do that anyway. Now the FBI can control the situation a bit. Manipulate things. Make sure she has backup. Make sure she keeps her mouth shut about what she finds out.” Nikolav rubbed the back of his neck, goose bumps rising on his skin at the thought of the tiny ball of woman out there for Yenin’s men to use as target practice.

He had to repeatedly remind himself no one was going to kill her outright. Yenin was too greedy for that. He would want her brought to him alive. As soon as he set his eyes on her, he would change any plans he might have had to now include rape.

And Nikolav wasn’t about to let that happen. He might have only known her one day, but she was under his skin in a way no woman had ever managed to burrow. And he intended to make sure this one remained alive.

“You going to the gym with me?” Sergei asked as he stood from across the table.

“Yeah. I need to. I fight this Saturday. Besides, maybe I won’t strangle that feisty woman the next time I see her if I blow off some steam first.”

Sergei lifted a brow and tapped the table with his fingertips. “You seem a little overly invested. Is she hot?”

Nikolav lifted his gaze to narrow it at Sergei’s smirking face. “Yes, but that isn’t what matters here. What matters is keeping her alive.”

“Uh-huh.” Sergei strode from the room, speaking over his shoulder. “Gonna grab my stuff. You’re my ride.”

Nikolav watched his retreating back. There was merit to Sergei’s suggestion. Would Nik be as interested in ensuring Belinda was safe if she didn’t make his dick so hard he couldn’t concentrate?

He liked to think so. He wasn’t an asshole. Under normal circumstances, he could be a gentleman.

But Belinda Gallo wasn’t normal circumstances. She was sexy and smart and gorgeous and spunky. The complete package.

Right?

He pushed himself up from the table and headed to the room he’d been occupying for two weeks, Mikhail’s, to grab his own gym bag. His mind wouldn’t stop straying to Belinda. The woman was amazing. No doubt about it. But was she submissive?

Because the visions running around in Nikolav’s head were of her submitting to him. His cock stiffened further at the visual of her on her knees in front of him, her head tipped toward the floor, her breasts free, her knees spread, her smart mouth closed.

His hands shook as he stuffed his shorts, gloves, mouth guard, and a change of clothes in his duffle. If that woman was submissive…

God. He needed to shake the image from his mind, because if she was…he was in a heap of trouble.

Nikolav had known he was a Dom for years. For whatever reason, all five of his friends were too. Fate? Coincidence? A result of their similar upbringings?

In any case, he liked his women to submit in the bedroom. And so far he’d found it was rarely difficult to convince a woman to give it a try. Even if they’d never before considered D/s as a lifestyle, they often found they liked turning over their power to a Dom for an evening. It helped them relax and enjoy aspects of sex they’d never dreamed possible.

Not all women. Definitely not. Some could not wrap their minds around it. Others were themselves dominant. But he was a pretty good judge of character and could usually peg a woman before he made any advances, especially if he met her at a BDSM club.

He always started with subtle suggestions to see how they reacted and went from there.

Belinda? He wasn’t sure. But what he knew for certain was that if she was remotely submissive in bed, she would be the perfect package. Strong, independent, and tough as nails in her regular life. But capable of turning that control over to someone else after hours.

He took a deep breath and shrugged his bag onto one shoulder. No sense pondering the possibilities. All he could do was bide his time and feel her out as he went along.

Nikolav found himself beating the hell out of a punching bag at the gym for longer than necessary. He needed the release, though he wasn’t sure it was effective. No matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn’t shake Belinda from his mind.

It was absurd. After all, he barely knew her. He was projecting what he wished she would prove to be onto her with no hard evidence. If he suggested she submit to him, there was every chance she would slap him and walk away.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Didn’t happen often. But he had to admit he’d been slapped.

It wasn’t because he lacked good judgment when it came to knowing if a woman was submissive or not. He was convinced it had more to do with the women not being willing or able to recognize it in themselves. Or face it.

Admitting having submissive thoughts or tendencies could be jarring, especially if those thoughts were misinterpreted as a sign of weakness instead of strength, which was often the case.

“You gonna beat that bag until it breaks free from the ceiling?” The voice behind him had him grabbing the bag to stop himself and twisting his head around to face his manager.

Abram Gromov.

The older man smirked. “You’ve been at it forever. I waited, but if I wait any longer, my hairline will start receding.”

Nikolav chuckled. Abram’s hairline had started receding when he was about twenty.

“You need me for something?”

“Just touching base. Talked to Leo and Mikhail earlier. They told me about Haley’s friend.” He frowned. “Said you stayed with her last night.”

“Yep. And I’ll be doing the same tonight.”

“You think it’s wise? You getting messed up in this thing?”

“This thing?” Nik pulled off his gloves and reached for his bottle of water on the floor. “This thing where Yenin is following all of us around and anyone we come in contact with for unknown reasons? This thing where he kidnapped Haley and drugged her? That thing?”

Abram’s frown grew larger. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Any of you.”

“We’re tough.”

“I know you are, but bullets are tougher.”

“No way would Yenin shoot any of us. You know that. He wants us back. Can’t stand the thought of us switching to you to manage us. But I don’t believe for a moment he wants us dead. We’re too valuable to him. Both as fighters and as lab rats, apparently.”

Abram nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Hate to see any of you tempting him by getting involved in something that ticks him off further.”

“And by something, you mean someone? Belinda Gallo? Too late. The woman’s a reporter. Yenin gets wind of that, he’ll snatch her up in a heartbeat.”

Abram nodded. “I agree.”

“Hell, old man, you know more than any of us what’s going on with the Bratva. You hear rumblings from the Russian Mafia, you keep us informed. I promise to stay alive to fight another day in the meantime.”

Abram was a good guy. Nikolav had met him many times in the last several years when he was in Vegas for one reason or another. The guy was Russian, but not Mafia. He was as clean as a guy could be considering he managed underground fighters.

Nikolav knew he meant well. He made it sound like all he cared about was ensuring none of them got killed so he didn’t lose any income, but underneath he was looking out for their safety too. As a friend. Practically family.

Nikolav had only been in town working for Abram for two weeks, but Mikhail had been there for a year, and Leo had come six months ago. Both of them vouched for Abram. Nikolav would be a fool to dismiss that trust.

Abram nodded. “Keep your eyes and ears open. I don’t trust that asshole Yenin further than I can throw him. If he’s meddling in far more illicit things than the obvious drugs and fighting as Mikhail and Leo seem to believe, you need to stay alert.”

“Will do.”

Abram didn’t move. He had something more to say.

“What else is on your mind?”

He pursed his lips before releasing them. “Every time you lovesick fools meets a damsel in distress, you hook up with her and stay that way.”

“And?” Nik’s belly flipped over at the idea of hooking up with Belinda. Was Abram a mind reader?

“Before long, you bunch of fools are going to be waltzing down the aisle and then making rug rats. I hate to see you leave the circuit prematurely.”

Abram’s bit of emotion made Nikolav smile. “We aren’t getting any younger, Gromov. Not many men over thirty still fighting as hard as we are.”

Abram leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Yeah, well, to hear Leo tell it, you’ve all been injected with some sort of youth serum. If that’s true, then I should be able to squeeze a few more years out of you.” He tipped his head back and laughed as he turned and walked away.

Nikolav stared after him, wincing at the not-so-unrealistic joke. Maybe Abram thought it was amusing, but Nikolav wasn’t sure there was anything funny about what might be running through his veins.

If there was a remote possibility there was any validity to the concept, then Nikolav wanted Yenin hunted down and answers squeezed out of him.

And likewise, under the assumption he had done some sort of experimenting on the fighters or Haley, then Belinda was in more danger than any of them could imagine.

»»•««

Anton Yenin leaned back in his desk chair, set his elbows on the surface of the desk, and steepled his fingers, tapping them together. “What do you have for me?” he asked his new lab tech, Jorge Montego. The guy had been with him a week, but already he was a valuable asset to the project.

Anton never should have hired his last man, Ted Christianson. The guy had been a liability from the beginning. He had a real job that kept him from devoting enough time to Anton’s project.

Besides, the asshole had gotten himself killed.

Jorge had an apartment inside the lab Anton ran on the outskirts of Chicago and no reason to leave. Anton brought him into the country from Colombia, and the guy had no family in the US. He was a safer option all around.

“Initial results would indicate Number Seventeen is responding as expected to the second phase.” Jorge stood in the doorway grinning. His dark hair hung low on his forehead, in need of a cut. And the guy repeatedly ran his hand through it in a futile effort to keep it off his face.

“Excellent. Blood work?”

“Exactly as you presumed.”

Anton smiled. He liked good news.

“Were you able to get the culture I gave you to Number Thirteen?”

Anton nodded. “Yes. And it would seem she too passed the test. I can’t be sure she or the man living with her definitely ate the tainted hummus, but the other woman with them did. I’ll bet she spent a good twelve hours vomiting Saturday night.”