Force

by Becca Jameson

  The shouting of bets continued, growing more intense and louder with each passing second before the fight began.

  Dmitry gave no sign of weakness to his opponent. He stretched his hands over his head and then across his body in every direction. He adjusted his mouthpiece with the back of his glove.

  Lauren had seen him after a fight many times in the past six months. Sometimes he sported a black eye or a swollen cheek or a cracked lip. Rarely was he as injured as he was tonight even before the fighting began. The doctor had said he needed months to recuperate. Two weeks weren’t going to cut it. But damn if he showed any sign of injury. In fact, he looked perfectly healthy. Either he was an excellent faker, or his adrenaline kept him from noticing his side.

  Hopefully no one, especially Joe “Hothead,” knew about his injured kidney. That weakness would get him flattened to the ground in less than a minute.

  The bell sounded while Lauren was still holding her breath over how dangerous this was. She flinched as the two men bounced into the center of the ring and began their dance.

  Dmitry threw the first punch, an uppercut to Joe’s chin.

  Joe’s head snapped back, but only for an instant, and then he glared at Dmitry and wrapped his arm around Dmitry’s head in a lock.

  Lauren sucked in a sharp breath. She kept her gaze glued to Dmitry’s weaker side, praying he didn’t take a kick to the lower back.

  The referee jumped around the two men on the balls of his feet. He held a whistle in his mouth and kept his eyes wide open and his arms out to his sides. Lauren found his presence almost comical considering she couldn’t imagine a scenario under which he might stop the fight. This sort of fight was every man for himself. No true rules existed. Even unsanctioned fighting in Vegas had standard rules about hitting below the belt, eye gouging, kidney punches, and a myriad of other infractions.

  Not here, it seemed.

  Mikhail set a hand on her shoulder and gripped. At first she thought he was stressing about the fight, but when she turned her head to glance at him, she found him staring at some spot on the other side of the cage.

  Lauren followed his gaze and noticed two men watching her—not the fight. She recognized Boris and Erik immediately. Fuck.

  “Don’t move. And don’t act scared.” Mikhail held her shoulder tighter.

  She swallowed and returned her attention to the fight. So many thoughts went through her mind. They were toast. But more importantly, Boris and Erik hadn’t looked shocked. They’d known she would be there. She prayed Dmitry hadn’t seen them. He would lose his concentration, and probably, the fight.

  Dmitry punched his opponent several times in the side of the face.

  The guy staggered backward. But then he came charging toward Dmitry with his head bent and slammed his skull into Dmitry’s left side.

  Dammit. Coincidence? Or did the guy know something?

  Dmitry staggered backward, clearly favoring his left side. His left arm hung lower than his right, no longer protecting his face, but his abdomen instead. There was no way Joe “Hothead” didn’t realize this. In fact, someone probably told Joe about the trauma to Dmitry’s side before the fight. Someone who arranged for the injury in the first place.

  In fact, Joe lifted a leg and swung it directly at Dmitry’s back as she watched in horror.

  Dmitry tried to deflect the blow, but didn’t quite make it. He went down on one knee, his head slumping forward, his face scrunched in pain.

  Lauren gasped. She stepped forward, or tried to. Mikhail stopped her.

  “Stay still. There’s nothing you can do from here. Let this play out.”

  “He could die,” she retorted.

  “He won’t.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “He’s a tough son of a bitch. Trust me.”

  Dmitry jumped back to his feet and spun out of Joe’s reach at just the right second. His entire body was already covered with sweat from the exertion. And the cut over his eye that hadn’t healed properly yet was split back open.

  She threw a hand over her eyes and peered between her fingers at the insanity. One foot inched forward seemingly of its own accord, but Mikhail gripped her shoulders firmly and didn’t let her advance.

  She glanced across to the other side of the cage. Boris and Erik were no longer standing in the same spot. Shit. It didn’t matter what happened in the cage. As soon as this fight was over, those two assholes would kill them both.

  The crowd roared louder, as if that were possible. Shouts of excitement surrounded her. And people pushed closer with each passing moment, pressing into Mikhail from behind, who in turn stepped closer to her back. He gripped her shoulders with his fingers.

  Dmitry’s arm hung lower, protecting his side with such an obvious stance she cringed as he pulled himself back to standing.

  Joe jumped to his feet, watching, waiting, and gauging the exact moment to strike again.

  Suddenly, Dmitry lifted his good arm and swung hard and fast at Joe’s cheek. He followed the punch with a second one to the jaw.

  The crowd went wild as Joe staggered backward.

  Dmitry advanced. In what seemed like suspended animation, he lifted his protective arm into a normal defensive position, turned in a complete circle for momentum, and lifted one leg in a high leg kick that landed directly on the side of Joe’s face, which had just taken two punches.

  Joe went down hard, his head hitting the ground with so much force she could hear it over the roar.

  Dmitry clambered over Joe’s body, straddling him until he sat on his chest and pinned his head down with one forearm to the guy’s neck.

  Joe flailed on the ground, trying to buck Dmitry off, to no avail.

  Dmitry held steady and then pressed harder, leaning into his arm.

  Joe swung one hand through the air, aiming to make contact with Dmitry’s face with short jabs of his fist. But he didn’t have enough force behind his attack, and all his squirming and bucking to remove Dmitry failed.

  Finally, just when she thought Joe would be rendered unconscious, the man tapped the floor at his side with his last energy.

  The patrons surrounding her screamed louder. People jumped up and down chanting, “Cossack. Cossack.” Lauren held her breath as Dmitry pulled himself to his feet and staggered backward. His face was contorted in pain. His hand gripped his side fiercely.

  The announcer stepped into the ring and called out the winner as the referee held up Dmitry’s good arm.

  His one eye was swollen shut. Blood trickled down his face and from his lip. But that was nothing.

  Lauren didn’t take her gaze off the grip he had on his side. He was hurt. Badly. Perhaps even fatally.

  Mikhail still held her shoulders, but he pressed her closer to the cage. “We need to get him out of here,” he shouted.

  The referee opened the gate to the cage, but the crowd pressed so tightly against the entrance there was no way out.

  Someone slipped inside and kneeled beside the fallen man who’d lost the fight.

  The announcer recognized the need for medical attention and used his own body to make a path through the throng of people, giving Dmitry a route to follow.

  Dmitry dragged his left foot, wincing with every step as Lauren watched in petrified horror. She needed to get to him. And Mikhail knew it. He grabbed her by the hand and pushed his way through the crowd to get to a door on the other side of the cage.

  She tried to spot Boris and Erik, but she was too short to see over most heads. Hopefully they could give those two assholes the slip.

  Dmitry disappeared through the entrance before Mikhail and Lauren managed to force a path. The room was thick with smoke and sweat and booze.

  Lauren held on to Mikhail’s hand as tightly as she could, but soon their arms were stretched apart. And a second later, she lost her grip.

  Mikhail spun around instantly. He reached for her over the heads between them.

  She screamed. Someone grabbed her by one arm and
then the other. They pulled her farther away from Mikhail, who immediately disappeared from her view.

  She struggled, her adrenaline pumping so high she had herculean strength. Fight or flight. But she was no match for the men on either side of her. They angled her toward another door on the side of the bar.

  She dragged her feet and screamed, but no one noticed. The volume was too loud in the room for anyone to be aware of a woman screaming in distress. A glance to her right and then her left informed her she’d never before seen the men who held her with such purpose. All she knew was they weren’t Boris and Erik. They were Caucasian. The same men who had jumped Dmitry?

  What she knew was she couldn’t let them take her, or she was dead. She understood finally why Dmitry wanted her to stay at home. Although considering how closely they’d been watched at the apartment lately, there was every chance she could have been kidnapped as easily from her living room as this speakeasy.

  One man pushed the door open to the hall. The other man smashed into her from behind, pressing her out of the main room.

  Lauren closed her eyes and prayed she could get out of this mess without dying.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dmitry fought to keep from passing out from the pain. He staggered behind the announcer as he exited the crowded bar and then leaned against the wall inside the much quieter hallway as the door slammed behind him.

  He hadn’t seen Mikhail or Lauren since before the fight began, but he trusted the two of them would make their way his direction and pop through the door he’d just exited at any moment.

  “You okay, man?”

  He lifted his gaze to the announcer and nodded. He was so far from okay. But he didn’t need anyone besides his own doctor and close acquaintances to know that.

  The door flew open again. Surprising him, a woman emerged. She was not dressed for a fight, and she wasted no time with pleasantries. “Kidney?”

  He scowled. Her dress made him squint further. Bright pink and orange stripes that hurt his eyes. It fit her fantastically, and accentuated her curves, but the color…

  She rolled her eyes and turned toward the announcer. “Where can he be comfortable?”

  The man nodded behind them and led the way to the makeshift locker room Dmitry had used to get ready.

  Heels clicked behind him as he walked. He had no idea who the woman was, but if she knew something about kidneys, he figured she was in his court. Hopefully she was a doctor. He knew it was bad. The pain was so much more intense than last week. He wasn’t stupid. It was possible he wouldn’t live through the night.

  The important thing was that he’d won the fight of his lifetime. Every bookie in Chicago had taken bets on it. And he was considered the underdog. With those odds, the money would be amazing. Lauren would be set for a long time, even if he didn’t make it.

  He began to lose his vision. Or maybe his eyes were swelling shut so he couldn’t see through the slits any longer. He gritted his teeth and followed the announcer into the locker room. The moment he was inside, he slouched onto the floor and lay on his good side, curling his legs up toward his chest and moaning. The relief was instantaneous. Just getting off his feet was an improvement.

  The woman kneeled at his side and gently pulled his hand away from the spot where his pain initiated. By then it had spread up his chest and down his leg. She prodded gently. “Here?”

  He winced.

  “When did you first injure the kidney?”

  “Twelve days ago?”

  “Are you insane?” She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked the rhetorical question and continued to inflict more pain on him by poking around his belly and back.

  Her blonde hair had been held back in a clip, but it escaped to spill around her face. She tucked a lock behind her ear and continued as the door opened again.

  Dmitry knew Mikhail’s presence the instant he filled the doorway.

  He also knew his friend was alone. He hauled himself onto his elbow, as tears of excruciating pain filled his eyes. “Where the fuck is she?” he gritted out.

  “Leo’s looking. I’m going now. She was right behind me. I had her hand. And then she disappeared. Could be nothing. The crowd…”

  Dmitry pushed himself upright. “Tell me you’re fucking kidding,” he screamed.

  Mikhail’s face was contorted as if he too were in pain.

  Dmitry gritted his teeth through his pain. “The Americans.”

  “What?” Mikhail leaned forward.

  “The assholes who jumped me. Said I needed to throw this fight or they would kill Lauren.”

  “You’re just now telling me this?”

  “Forgot.” He pursed his lips. What difference did it make? So damn many people were after her, what was a few more?

  “Got it.” Mikhail turned around and fled the room.

  “Lie down,” the lady said. “You need to remain still. Do you understand how serious this is?”

  Dmitry turned his gaze to her, barely seeing her now. His eyes were not only swollen but filled with tears of anguish and pain. “Lauren…”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. It was crowded in there.”

  The door burst open again.

  Dmitry yanked his gaze to see who was there.

  Abram.

  “Gromov.”

  “Great fight.”

  “Leo… Mikhail… They lost Lauren.”

  “I know. They’re on it. Ten men are on it. Stay calm. I’m sure she just got yanked out of his hand.”

  Dmitry hissed. “Calm,” he shouted. “You want fucking calm? There’re at least that many men out there who want her dead. I saw Erik and Boris in the crowd the second the fight ended. Those sons of bitches would stab her right in the middle of the room.”

  The woman examining him winced. She turned around to face Abram. “Is that true?”

  “Who are you?” Abram asked, jerking his gaze to her as if he hadn’t noticed her before.

  “A doctor. And your friend here’s going to die if he doesn’t get medical attention. Fast. You need to call an ambulance.”

  Dmitry grabbed the woman by the arm and squeezed until she squealed. “No fucking ambulances. Do what you can or get out.”

  Her eyes shot open wide. “Are you crazy?”

  “Apparently.” Dmitry released her, shuddering as he realized the amount of force he’d used to get her attention. “Fuck. Sorry.”

  She rubbed her arm. “Fine. I have a clinic.” She turned toward Abram. “Do you have a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go.” She stood.

  Dmitry closed his eyes tight. “We aren’t going anywhere until Lauren’s found.” His voice was growing weak. He knew he was about to lose consciousness.

  The woman’s voice sounded farther away as she turned to face Abram. “He needs medical attention. We can move to my clinic, but I can’t promise he won’t have to go to the hospital in the end anyway. In any case, we need to act now. If he’s bleeding internally…”

  Dmitry grabbed her forearm again. “Lauren first.”

  »»•««

  Lauren struggled against the two men holding her as they rushed through the back door to the speakeasy and out into the night. She tried to scream again, but couldn’t get her voice to work. And besides, there were so many people in the street and surrounding area, no one could hear her over so many voices.

  “Let me go.” Her entire body shook with fear.

  The men dragged her around the corner and pressed her against the wall in the darkness of the alley. One of them put a hand over her mouth. “No one’s going to hurt you. Shhh.”

  She lifted a knee and managed to jam it upward, but she caught the guy in the thigh, missing her intended target.

  He pressed her tighter against the brick wall digging into her back and peered around her. “Anyone see us?”

  The other guy peeked around the corner, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “We need to get out of here.”


  “Yep. Fast.”

  She took a long look at the man pinning her to the wall. Short. Maybe five foot six. Dark hair. Brown eyes that looked serious. A frown seemed permanent on his face.

  The guy turning back to face them had a lighter complexion. His hair was longer and dirty blond. Messy. He spoke directly to her finally. “We have to get out of here. It’s not safe. We need to run. Can you run in those shoes?” He glanced down.

  She flinched in shock. Why would she run anywhere with these two men of her own accord? She knew her stupid heels were an impediment, but that was the least of her concerns.

  The moment the darker-haired guy removed his hand from her mouth, she screamed. He slammed his hand back down and glared at her. “Jesus, lady. You want to get us all killed? We’re trying to help you here.”

  What the hell was he talking about?

  “Let’s go, before we’re found out,” the blond said. “Keep your mouth shut, Lauren, or risk getting caught by the wrong people.”

  Her blood was pumping so hard through her veins she could feel it in her pulse where the darker man held her to the wall. Fear inched up her spine as she considered the ramifications of these two men taking her to another location. Number one rule in abductions—never let them take you to a second place.

  She struggled against the grip on her, lifting her hands to punch the man’s chest. She was far too small and weak to be any match against this man.

  “Lauren, stop.” The man grabbed her wrists with one hand and pressed them into her belly. “We aren’t the bad guys. We’re here to help.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Why the fuck should I believe that? You just yanked me from the fight and dragged me outside. I need to go back in. Find my friends. If you’re on my side, prove it. Let me go.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t do that. It’s not safe. Dozens of men in there were watching Dmitry like a hawk. And he’s injured. His life’s at stake. There’s a bounty on your head bigger than the one on his. You’ve got fucking Russians and Americans trying to kill you. If either of them snags you, you’re dead. If you go back in there, you’re dead. If you don’t go with us, you’re dead. And so is Dmitry.”