by AJ Quinn
“Don’t worry about it,” Darien assured her and waited for Zoey to open the passenger door. Climbing from the vehicle, she paused and extended her hand, helping Jessie exit.
Ignoring muttered complaints and expletives from the people waiting in line, she kept one hand lightly pressed against the small of Jessie’s back as they approached the entrance to the club. A pair of doormen stood there, keeping the line in check and determining who would be allowed to pass through.
The larger of the two, a muscular man with shoulder-length dark hair and a weapon bulge under his jacket, sent a scowl in their general direction before recognition set in. He then broke into a wide grin, flashing a gold-and-diamond-studded grill. “Ari, welcome back to Oz. It’s been much too long. When did you get back?”
“Just a couple of days ago,” Darien responded, her Russian fluid with the cadence of a native. “How’s business been, Nikolai?”
The big bouncer shrugged. “You know how it is,” he said. “But I think it will get better now that you’re back. At least, it should make the boss happy. And is this lovely lady someone you’ve brought for your good friend Nikolai?”
Jessie kept her face appropriately expressionless, following the instructions she’d been given earlier and pretending she had no understanding of what was being said. But even if she hadn’t understood, she would have known when Nikolai turned his attention toward her, his eyes a little too appreciative. Even before he reached one hand to touch her.
Jessie’s eyes widened, but before she had a chance to react, Darien clamped her hand on Nikolai’s forearm, stopping him with a barely restrained violence. Nikolai stared at her hand on his arm, then looked up in surprise and attempted a smile. But his smile slipped and faded as Darien arched a brow and held his gaze.
She leaned closer and her eyes narrowed as she spoke in a deliberately quiet tone. “The lady’s with me, Nikolai. That means you can look, but don’t ever, ever touch. Try to touch what’s mine again and you won’t like the consequences, my friend.”
Jessie tensed when she saw Nikolai studying Darien with neutral eyes. His expression was clearly uncertain as if he was weighing his options, and a heavy silence thickened between them. She wondered how long Darien would allow the standoff to continue when she saw her give a slight shake of her head. It was barely perceptible, but it proved to be enough to have Nikolai stand down.
“Sorry, Ari. No offense, I didn’t understand that’s the way it is. I didn’t know she was yours that way.”
For a second or two longer, Darien’s hand remained on his arm. Then the moment passed, and when she released him, she made a show of straightening his jacket and smiled as she fixed his tie for him. “Even if she wasn’t mine, Nikolai, you should never touch a lady—any lady—unless she invites you.”
For all his size, Nikolai nodded and took a step back, reinforcing what Jessie suspected was Ari’s reputation as someone not to be taken lightly. By anyone.
“I’d appreciate it if you could tell Yuri I’d like a chance to pay my respects.”
“Sure thing, Ari.” Nikolai appeared to hesitate. “Yuri will want to know—will you be going downstairs later tonight?”
“I just might,” she said, relaxed once again, as if the tense moment was forgotten. “But first, I promised this beautiful lady we would dance.”
“Of course. I will have someone clear a table for you.” Nikolai pressed a throat mic and spoke to someone on the other end, issuing a rapid series of instructions. When he turned back, he appeared affable once again. “Will you require anything else?”
“If I do, I’ll let you know.” Darien turned toward Jessie and almost smiled as she extended her hand. “Let’s see if our table’s ready, shall we?”
Chapter Nine
It was only a few minutes past midnight and inside Oz, the party that would last until morning was just getting warmed up.
The club pulsed to a booming techno beat. The air was filled with smoke—both the acrid scent of cigarettes and the more pungent smell of recreational drugs—and was thick enough Darien believed a person could get high just by breathing. Expensive perfumes and sweat were added to the mix as heated bodies gyrated with frenetic energy under flashing strobe and laser lights.
Silent and watchful, she used the shifting movements of the crowd to screen her as it flowed apart and then came together again. She scanned faces, looking past the smiles and laughter, searching for anomalies, for anything out of the ordinary. Nobody seemed out of place, looked back furtively, or tried to avoid her gaze.
She detested crowds. There were always too many variables to consider. Too many possibilities beyond her control. But there was little else she could do if she wanted to see Yuri because if there was one certainty to this evening, it was that Yuri adored crowds. He loved being the center of attention. Loved to keep his gangster friends entertained.
The smoke burned her eyes, but she didn’t see anything that warranted concern. It was just another night in Oz. Ignoring the push and pull of bodies, and with her hand holding Jessie’s, Darien weaved her way through the crowd, following a waiter who had materialized to lead them to a table.
They were halfway across the floor when someone grasped Darien’s shoulder. She reacted instinctively, pushing Jessie behind her while reaching inside her jacket for her SIG as she swiftly turned.
A reed-thin twentysomething man with thin blond hair stumbled back, grinning foolishly. “Hey, Ari, it’s been a while. You need anything?” He had to shout to make himself heard above the music.
Darien slid her hand away from her gun and shook her head.
“Things are moving fast tonight. But I still got hash, some blue-sky blond, and maybe a bit of X if you’re interested.”
Darien shook her head once again. “I’m good.”
The young dealer shrugged. “If you need anything later, you know where to find me,” he said, then melted back into the crowd.
Jessie cocked a brow, but Darien ignored her unspoken question. What could she say that would begin to explain any of this? This was simply a night at Oz. She reached for Jessie’s hand once again, keeping it firmly gripped until they reached a table on the edge of the dance floor. Darien held out a chair for Jessie, then pulled a chair for herself and sat close beside her.
“What happens now?” Jessie asked, her mouth pressed close to Darien’s ear so she could be heard.
Darien shrugged, but she remained alert. “Now we wait. We sit for a little while, let people see us and know we’re here. We’ll dance as if we have no cares. And then, when the time is right, we’ll go downstairs.”
Over the next hour, surrounded by heat and smoke and gyrating bodies, Darien sat, casually holding Jessie’s hand, mindlessly drawing circles with her thumb. She ordered drinks, the ice melting quickly while the drinks remained untouched. She had almost reached the point where she was starting to think nothing was going to happen tonight when she felt the back of her neck tingling in primal warning.
Glancing around nonchalantly, she noted two silhouettes outlined in a far window above the dance floor. Looking down from what she knew to be Yuri’s office. Showtime. She got to her feet, tugged on Jessie’s hand to get her attention, and indicated the dance floor. Let’s dance, she mouthed.
The seconds ticked by as Jessie regarded her with a raised eyebrow. But she stood without saying a word and followed her out to the dance floor. Turning toward Darien, Jessie wrapped her arms loosely around her neck as she began to move, the delicate curve of her breasts pressed against Darien’s chest.
Darien responded automatically, placing her hands on Jessie’s hips, vividly conscious of the subtly provocative sway, and as they moved together, the chaos around them slowly blurred and faded. The crowd, the heat, and the smoke disappeared. All that remained was the inescapable vibration of the heavy bass coming through the floorboards and the softness of a beautiful woman with tousled blond hair and eyes the color of warm honey.
They stayed like
that, with Jessie in the protective circle of her arms, as one song ended and another began. Fast or slow, it didn’t matter. Wistfully, Darien thought she would have liked to spend the rest of the night like this. With Jessie. Possibly exploring this unanticipated but potent attraction she was feeling toward the woman in her arms.
As she thought about it, she wondered if perhaps it was a simple case of it having been too long since she’d experienced any kind of closeness with a woman. That had to be it. She was also willing to concede this particular attraction might be connected to long-forgotten feelings she’d once had for Grace, although those emotions had been about the love a child would feel for a parent rather than the clearly sexual heat Jessie was generating.
At another time, it was something she would need to explore. But already she could feel reality press against her from all sides. Darien took Jessie’s hand and drew her away from the dance floor. Once again, Jessie didn’t question her. She merely sent a quick curious glance in her direction, then allowed herself to be guided through the melee toward a doorway leading to the lower level.
The two security guards posted at the top of the stairs merely nodded as she and Jessie approached. Drawing Jessie closer to her side, they passed without comment and continued to the bottom of the dimly lit stairway, where they were met by another Oz employee.
“Yuri has cleared two seats for you,” he said and led them the rest of the way into the heart of Oz.
It was a packed house tonight, but unlike the main floor, this level was filled with the heady aroma of money and power. And blood. Beyond the entrance, Darien could see that the row upon row of arena-style seats were already filled with patrons, clearly and loudly focused on the bloodthirsty spectacle taking place in the very center of the room—a raised octagonal ring surrounded by high netting.
“Illegal cage fighting?” Even over the sudden roar coming from the crowd as one of the fighters in the cage was taken down, she could hear the edge in Jessie’s voice.
“Yes. It’ll run the gamut of techniques and disciplines—boxing, Brazilian jujitsu, wrestling, Muay Thai, karate, judo, and anything else the fighters can think of. But this—what you’ll see here—is as far from a mixed martial arts event as you can get. The only rule here is there are no rules. That guarantees Yuri a huge following, and the house gets to keep a large percentage of the take.”
No rules. No gloves or padding. No referees.
It was truly no-holds-barred combat, Darien knew only too well, and what it lacked in finesse, it made up in terms of spectacle. Matches were won and lost in an instant with explosive barrages of hard punches and sheer strength. Just pure violence while onlookers orbiting the ring, and those watching on closed circuit televisions in the private rooms around the perimeter, openly wagered and screamed for blood.
Their escort stopped and indicated two seats in the front row, where the scent of blood and sweat and violence was the strongest.
“Up close and personal with blood and mayhem. Great. Any closer and we’d be in the damned cage,” Jessie said dryly. “Obviously Nikolai let Yuri know you were here.”
“Nikolai only let Yuri know I want to talk to him. By then, Yuri already knew we were here. Security cameras on the roof would have picked us up as soon as we got out of the car out front,” Darien replied, wincing as the current match ended with a blow that stopped the recipient cold. He dropped like a felled tree.
Almost immediately, cage attendants descended on the hapless fighter and removed him from the area, while the announcer focused everyone’s attention on the winner. Moments later, the only sign anything had taken place was the remaining blood splattered on the canvas floor.
“Well, Jesus,” Jessie muttered, her face paler than when they’d arrived. “What do we do now?”
“Now? It’s like one of your chess games. We wait for Yuri to make his move.”
*
Yuri’s move caught Jessie by surprise. It came through the loudspeaker system as the ringside announcer informed the crowd that they had a special guest in attendance. Ari was in the audience. And before she could do more than raise an eyebrow in the direction of the expressionless face of the woman beside her, Yuri escalated.
“Perhaps we can persuade this fine champion to enter the cage for us tonight. Shall we try?”
As spotlights picked Ari out, the announcer urged the crowd to join him in convincing Ari to fight. It started slowly at first, but he was soon whipping them into a roaring frenzy until the building felt like it was shaking, and all Jessie could hear was a chorus of voices shouting Ari’s name in sync with the pounding of their feet on the floor. Jesus.
Through it all, Darien remained in her seat, her face impassive. But Jessie would swear she could feel her pulse accelerating as she watched her. She wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next, but the crowd settled down when the big bouncer, Nikolai, appeared and crouched at Darien’s side.
“The boss wants you to know he’s amenable to a one-on-one meeting with you. Said to tell you he’ll have some time after you finish your match with our current women’s champ. He also wants you to know he’s going to show his appreciation by doubling your usual take for the fight.”
Darien’s expression didn’t change as she appeared to consider Nikolai’s request. “That’s what he wants? A quick tussle with his flavor of the moment?”
“She calls herself Rogue and she’s undefeated for a reason,” Nikolai warned her quietly. “She’s big, she’s tough, and she fights dirty. She’s got a mean left hook and a damn good right cross. She’s also been accused of cheating, although no one’s been able to prove anything.”
How does someone cheat in a contest where there are no rules? Jessie glanced at Darien questioningly, not certain what she planned to do. But she appeared to make her decision quickly, and Jessie wasn’t overly surprised by her terse response.
“Let’s do it.”
Nikolai didn’t appear surprised either as he tossed her a roll of tape.
Before Jessie could think to say anything, Darien removed her SIG Sauer from her belt holster and handed it to her. Next up was the Kel-Tec PF-9 she kept in an ankle holster, along with a knife in a leather sheath strapped to her left arm. And then, amidst wolf whistles and catcalls, she stood and began taking off her clothes.
“Jesus, Ari, what’re you doing?” Nikolai actually seemed rattled. “We got lockers you can change in. You know that.”
“Relax, Nikolai,” Darien said, sounding not the least sympathetic. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before. Hell, I’ve been in public beaches wearing less, and they’re all going to see me like this when I step into the cage, so why bother pretending to be modest.”
Nikolai walked away with a shake of his head. But Jessie could see that in spite of the cool tone of voice, Darien’s eyes were bright with anger. In short order, boots, jacket, shirt, and pants were all removed, folded, and placed on her vacated seat.
Trying to appear as if she wasn’t staring, Jessie could also see Elle had been correct in her assessment. Black most definitely suited her and Darien always looked fantastic fully dressed. Whether it was in the jeans and leather jacket of their first meeting or the custom-tailored black silk jacket, open-collared shirt, and pants she’d just removed. But under her clothes…damn.
Her breasts were small, taut beneath a black sports bra, while black knee-length spandex shorts clung to her narrow hips and thighs, revealing legs and an ass that were off the chart. Everywhere else, sleek muscles flexed beneath the golden cast of her skin.
Jessie’s heart skipped a beat and an intense rush of heat swept through her body. She hadn’t been this affected by a woman in, well, she couldn’t remember when. Maybe never. There was nothing comfortable or even remotely familiar about this attraction. Instead, it was all yin and yang. Push and pull.
Darien Troy was intelligent. Independent. Beautiful. All characteristics that invariably appealed to her. She was unbelievably drawn by the hints of vulnerab
ility she detected in Darien, existing just below the surface. But she was also unquestionably lethal, and Jessie felt confounded by the attraction in spite of the dark aura of violence that surrounded her.
Maybe it was because they were polar opposites. Or maybe it was because she’d been feeling restless of late. Feeling as if there was something vital missing from her life, and from herself. Then reality kicked in and she looked warily at Darien. “You knew this was going to happen.”
Darien glanced at her as she removed the silver hoop from her eyebrow. “I’ve known Yuri for a few years,” she said matter-of-factly. “There’s a cost to doing business with him, so I had a pretty good idea this was what he would want in exchange for agreeing to a one-on-one with me.”
“That’s why you were wearing that”—Jessie indicated the shorts and sports bra with a wave of one hand—“under your clothes and why everyone here knows you. You fight here regularly.”
“I wouldn’t call it regularly.”
“What would you call it then?”
“I’d call it often enough to build a legend.” She handed Jessie the tape Nikolai had given her. “Could I get you to help tape my hands?”
Even with Darien talking her through the process, Jessie had barely enough time to finish when an attendant came to escort Darien into the cage.
Once in the cage, she moved with the unconscious grace of an animal. Her whole body changed, shifting into battle readiness, her muscles flexing as she slowly stretched them out. She balanced easily on the balls of her feet, light steps and motions.
It was then it hit Jessie and she almost laughed out loud. Some trained observer you are. She’d been so caught up in admiring Darien’s body that she’d failed to notice a marked difference between Darien and Ari.
Ink.
There was a great deal of ink covering Ari’s body. There was a powerful cobra coiled around her left arm. A Celtic triple goddess was positioned on her right deltoid. And a large, boldly colored dragon spread its wings across her back.
