Focusing on the competition was my main concern. That was why I was here. Right? I took off my deel and pants and started warming up. Yalta, Zerleg and Zolbin joined me. All three of our matches were in a few hours. We concentrated on watching the games, taking note of the other athletes and their weak spots. I was determined to forget about Veronica.
I was so wrapped up in the contest that I barely made it to do the eagle dance for my own match. Clearing my head as I moved around Yalta, I ran through everything that could happen and how I would counter it. I slapped my thighs and made my way into the ring, squaring off against my opponent.
This time I didn’t look him in the eyes. That barely worked last time. I wanted to try ignoring his face and concentrating exclusively on his movements. In fact, this strategy worked so well I had him on his back inside of a minute.
“Great job,” my opponent growled in English at my feet.
I offered my hand to help him up. He grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet. My competitor wasn’t Mongolian. Instead, I was staring into the face of Arje Dekker…my assignment.
“Don’t see many Europeans here,” he said as his eyes crinkled into a smile.
“I’m American,” I said smoothly, hiding my shock behind a warm grin.
“Well, you kicked my ass,” Arje answered. “Hopefully, I can regain my dignity later.”
“Good luck with that,” I said as I started to turn away.
He didn’t answer, just chuckled as I walked toward my coach. I was in shock. Even though I knew my vic was in Mongolia, I didn’t think I’d see him until the national event. It never occurred to me that he would be here doing what I was doing.
Yalta and the boys clapped me on the back, and Chudruk joined us.
“You followed his technique!” Chudruk noted. “Yalta is very happy with you.”
I nodded and tried to turn my attention back to the competition. In a few hours I would have to fight again. My brain was a hot mess, between Veronica and Dekker. Focus was looking like a pipe dream at that point.
Zerleg lost his match, but narrowly enough that his grandfather was very proud. Zolbin defeated his opponent easily, and I was once again starting to get caught up in the festive atmosphere. The naadam was going well for us. Too bad my professional and personal life sucked.
This was too much. I understood the idea of coincidence. But to have both Veronica and Dekker here? Maybe something else was going on. In the Bombay family, you knew that just about anything was possible. After all, I never did figure out how they got the assignment to me.
I pulled on my deel and joined the others, who were having tea about one hundred yards from the ring.
“Where’s Veronica?” I asked Odgerel. I don’t know why. I didn’t particularly want to speak to her.
Sansar-Huu’s wife pointed over her shoulder, and I looked but couldn’t see her. I stood chugging the hot tea and then wandered in that direction. Imagine my surprise when I spotted her talking to, of all people, Dekker. They seemed to be deep in conversation. This was bad. Dodging behind a ger (and feeling like an idiot for doing so), I tried to sort this out.
It made some sense to think they would spot each other. Caucasians tended to stand out here. If Veronica asked what he was doing at the competition, she’d have another guy like me to interview.
I peeked around the edge of the tent and saw that they were smiling. Damn. What if Dekker was hitting on her? What if Ronnie decided he would be better to hang out with than me? She didn’t know him. I didn’t know him either, but I had his number. Arje Dekker was one mean bastard.
I looked again and saw that they were gone. Shit. I walked over to where they had been talking, toeing the flattened grass where they had stood. I cursed Veronica for making me angry and for running off with a dangerous man she knew nothing about. Then I cursed myself for acting like a ten-year-old.
“There you are!” a male voice said behind me. I turned to find Vic and Ronnie standing there like old chums.
“You were looking for a rematch?” I asked casually.
“The two of you know each other?” Veronica asked.
Dekker nodded. “He tossed me to the ground like a rag doll earlier.” He stuck out his hand. “Arje Dekker.”
I shook it. It would look too strange if I didn’t. “Cy Bombay.”
“Ronnie tells me you are here for the same reason I am.”
Ronnie? He calls her Ronnie already? That’s my nickname for her!
“I figured that out when I helped you up earlier.” I forced a grin.
Something dark flashed in Arje’s eyes. I recognized it. I’d seen it many times before. People who didn’t have a conscience tended to look that way. I was grateful to see it. It reminded me who he really was.
“I thought it might be good to interview you to-gether.” Veronica held up her notebook as if that explained everything. “You might have some similar experiences.”
“Maybe later…” I mumbled.
“After your next fight then. Before we leave with the others,” she said firmly. At least I was happy to hear that she was still planning on staying with me.
“We’ll see.” I broke off and walked back to the others. I did not want to be around Dekker any more than I had to. The whole idea of being interviewed with that man was more than I could handle.
I thought of the look in Veronica’s eyes…like she’d just hit the jackpot. That was troubling. The fact that Dekker was in the country and would be around wasn’t the problem. The problem was Ronnie. She knew him now. When he died, she might even feel sorry for him. This was a complication I was not used to. Instead of just killing him, I’d have to find a way to make it look like something else. I’d done it before, but it was outside my comfort zone.
After rejoining Yalta and Zolbin, I decided to use my anger in the upcoming fight. The idea burned inside me like a white-hot brand. My energy started to rise and I pictured defeating Dekker over and over, using every trick Yalta had taught me. I knew I wouldn’t face him again—he’d lost his one chance. But pretending it would be that slime bag seemed to help. I could actually feel my aggression spiking.
My first chance at this contest was a lucky one. The next opponent would be much tougher, and I had to get it together. Forcing everything else from my thoughts, I concentrated on my upcoming match and allowed the bloodlust to take over my senses. I felt sorry for the poor guy who would get me. He might win, but he’d be missing body parts. And that felt a little satisfying.
Chapter Thirteen
Rusty: How was the clink? You get the cookies I sent?
Danny: Why do you think I came to see you first?
—OCEAN’S ELEVEN
“Whatcha doing?” asked a distinctly familiar voice into my right ear as I watched the following matches from the sidelines. I didn’t jump with surprise. Bombays don’t do that. But I was a little more than surprised to see my cousin Missi standing next to me.
“Hey, cuz,” I said. “What brings you to the farthest reaches of the planet? In the neighborhood and thought you’d say hi?”
She threw her arms around me with affection and I squeezed back. Truth be told, I wasn’t all that startled. The family had a way of popping up where you least expected them.
“Business,” she said. Missi was a bit older than me, with two teenage sons. She was cute with her short, messy hair and eyes that never missed a thing. She was the Bombay family’s inventor of weapons—something that had saved my ass on more than one occasion.
“Business, eh? So are you the one who slipped me the envelope?”
She shook her head distractedly. “No. Monty and Jack did it.” She craned her neck to the left. “You haven’t seen them, have you?”
Wow. There were a whole mess of white people in this little hamlet. That would be hard to explain to the locals.
“No.”
“What’s up with the panties?” she asked, turning her attention back to me.
“Uniform. They are supposed
to make movement less restricted.”
“I see.” And actually, I think she did.
“Why are you here, Missi?” The question did beg to be answered.
She smiled at me and I laughed. Missi had this kooky sort of presence that made her incredibly lovable…like a deranged Muppet. Underestimating her, however, could be deadly. She once created a bicycle helmet fitted with a pneumatic bolt gun that pierced the brain of its victim, killing him on the first leg of the Tour de France. She managed to switch out helmets while acting like a concerned Good Samaritan. They never did figure that one out.
“Mom wanted you to have this.” Missi handed me a cell phone.
“I have a cell phone.”
She shook her head. “Not like this one. I guess you probably noticed that your cell doesn’t work here.”
I nodded. And it hadn’t bothered me.
“This phone uses Russian and Chinese satellites.” Missi popped open the phone to show me an expanding screen inside, complete with QWERTY keyboard. “You can communicate with us in real time via video. That way the council can keep track of you.” She winked, indicating that she knew I wouldn’t like that.
“I’m not happy about this job,” I said. “Vic is too close. He’s getting to know my friends here. I don’t like that. And the last thing I need is the council breathing down my neck.”
Missi nodded. “Seems we’ve been getting more of these types of assignments lately. I blame the Internet. There’s no anonymity anymore. Just one huge global community center.”
“That doesn’t help me.” I scanned the crowd and noticed several people looking our way. “People are starting to notice you. You’d better head out.”
Missi glanced around. “Well, we’re off. I promised the kids we’d hit Tokyo on the way home for some tech stuff.” She walked a few steps away, then turned back. “Oh, and could you get me some good cashmere yarn? Or maybe a felted bag? Thanks!” And with that, she was gone.
Most people might be a little unsettled by such a visit. But most people weren’t Bombays. The question was, how had she found me? There was a rumor that ran through our generation that Missi had somehow implanted us all with either tracking or explosive material. After this little family visit, I was beginning to believe in the former.
I looked at the phone in my hand. My next fight would start in a few minutes and I was wearing nothing but panties, boots and sleeves. Where in the hell was I going to put it?
“Cy!” Sansar-Huu called, indicating that it was my turn to wrestle. Great. I shoved the phone in my boots, hoping it was sturdy enough to survive the fight. Kicking wasn’t really part of the game.
I had to push my conversation with Missi (and wondering how she and the boys got in and out of there unnoticed) out of my thoughts or I wouldn’t win this fight. As I did the eagle dance and slapped my thighs, I’d rekindled my anger toward Dekker. My opponent, a rather large man with maybe fifty pounds on me, grabbed my shoulders.
He didn’t stand a chance as I threw him onto his knee, winning the match. Good thing I wasn’t really angry or he might not have survived. As I stalked off mid cheers from my friends, my anger dissipated a bit.
“Who was that?” Ronnie asked as I slipped my deel back on. I’d have another match soon, but it was starting to get chilly and I was covered in sweat.
“The loser,” I said shortly.
“No, the blonde.” She looked upset. It took me a second to realize what she was talking about.
“Oh, that.” What was I supposed to tell her? That my cousin from South America dropped by for a quick visit and to drop off a cell phone you could bounce off Chinese satellites?
“Yeah, that.” Veronica folded her arms and I almost laughed.
“Another grad student working on a thesis,” I lied.
Her face contorted for a moment as she wrestled with this information. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy that.
“Who is she?” Ronnie tried again. I would’ve been surprised if she hadn’t.
“Some woman.” That was technically true. The fact that I knew her wasn’t necessarily important.
“One of your ‘groupies’?” I could swear I actually saw the words in frost hovering in the air.
“Yeah. I have blonde, wealthy, bored-housewife followers here.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
Wow. This chick didn’t give up. I couldn’t remember ever having someone jealous or possessive over me.
“I can honestly say I’ve never had sex with that woman.” True.
“I—” she began.
“Veronica.” My tone turned to ice. “I’ve had enough. Drop it.” I stalked past her before I would have to throw her to the ground. Besides, she’d now empowered me with enough anger to win the whole damned competition. I wanted to keep it that way.
“Keep her,” I said to Chudruk, “away from me.” I pointed at Ronnie. My wingman nodded solemnly. Women could be a huge distraction in sports. I didn’t wait to see how he would do this as I headed for Zerleg and Zolbin. My new cell phone rubbed uncomfortably against my shin. I’d had enough of women for the day.
My next two matches lasted mere seconds as I bartered my fury for victory. It was my third fight that didn’t work out. I tripped over my own feet and fell to the ground. Exhaustion, mental and physical, was getting the best of me. I shrugged on my deel and climbed into the truck and passed out without talking to anyone.
A jolt brought me bolt upright and I found that the truck was moving.
“You’re awake.” Sansar-Huu laughed.
I looked around. The two of us were the only ones in the cab. Dark shapes murmured quietly from the back.
“Where’s Ronnie?” I panicked a little, worried that she might have opted out of coming back with us. But where would she go? My nerves tightened as I thought she might have gone off with Dekker. That man was a killer.
“In the back,” Sansar-Huu said. “She was mad at you and decided to sit there.”
I leaned against the headrest in relief. I’d been hard on her. If she went with my vic, all kinds of terrible things might have happened. Even worse, she might have slept with him.
That stopped me. Why did I care about that? I’d just spent the trip down here informing Ms. Gale that I was no virgin. I didn’t really think she was. But the thought of someone else having her was like a cheese grater running over my stomach.
I didn’t say much the whole trip. It was probably my mood that kept the driver quiet too.
I was in my ger, stripping off my deel as Veronica walked in and threw her notepad on her cot.
Turning toward her as I took off my sleeves and boots, I asked, “Well?”
Ronnie looked me up and down and actually gulped. I was wearing only the “panties,” as Missi called them. I was in great shape and I knew it.
She crossed her arms over her chest. It was kind of a turn-on. “I suppose you are expecting an apology?” she said. Her tone indicated that I wasn’t going to get one.
I hooked my thumbs in the front of my pants. Veronica gasped, as if worried I was going to rip them off right there. I toyed with that very idea before crossing the room, taking her into my arms and kissing her.
She resisted at first, but I held firm. Her body hardened against mine and all rational thought was overridden by desire. Apparently, the same thing overwhelmed her also, because she kissed me with everything she had. In fact, I was a bit shocked to find a tiger in my arms.
Veronica Gale ran her hands through my hair, twisting her fingers through it. I reacted the only way I could: Reason fled and my hands slid down her back and waist to her taut, round ass. I pulled her hard
against me. She acknowledged my arousal with a moan that melted my spine and set fire to my brain.
Sliding my fingers upward I pulled her sweater up and over her head with a firm yank. The need burning in her eyes caught me off guard and drove me completely mad. I unfastened her bra and pulled it from between us. She gasped again, a sound
that was quickly becoming the most erotic I’d ever heard. Her full, perfect breasts throbbed, and she took a ragged breath. I gently palmed each nipple. I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone.
Ronnie spun me around, pushed me to a sitting position on the cot and climbed on top of me. I took her right breast into my mouth as she ground her pelvis against mine, driving me crazy. Running my tongue over her nipple, I felt a tidal wave of emotion well up inside me. This was going to be way more than just some casual sex.
“Ohhhhh…” Ronnie moaned, and the tidal wave turned into a monsoon.
With one movement I had her beneath me. I don’t even remember our clothes coming off, just this sudden sensation that I was inside her. As I looked down into her eyes, I saw for the first time a completely carefree Veronica.
This made me ache for her. I wanted more, even though that was physically impossible at the moment. Taking my time as I moved, I studied her features. She was warm and open, possibly for the first time with me. It was as if Veronica gave up fighting me for once. It was a heady feeling no wine could ever produce.
She cried out as she came, and the sensation quickly brought me to my climax. Veronica glowed as she pulled me toward her for a kiss.
“I think we should fight more often,” I said, snuggling her warm body against mine.
“That was pretty hot,” she said.
I felt a sense of heavy satisfaction I couldn’t remember experiencing before. This felt so right. Like all the stars were in perfect alignment. Like all was at peace in the universe. Sleep smothered me with its lumbering breath as I fell head over heels into something I could never, ever understand.
Chapter Fourteen
Agent 47: Because that suitcase holds perfectly my blazer sniper rifle, two .45s and a gag for talkative, irritating little girls like yourself. Do you want me to stop and get it out?
Nika Boronina: I don’t know—Do you think we have time for foreplay?
—HITMAN
The sound of the door of the stove creaking woke me up, and the first thing I noticed was that I was in the wrong bed and naked. The second thing I noticed was that I was alone. As I shifted under the covers, the scent of Ronnie’s body gave me a drunken sensation of pleasure.
I Shot You Babe Page 8
