Zane grabbed her wrist and hauled her to him before she got out of the car. “I’m growing rather fond of you. Please be careful. I don’t want to pick you up in my ambulance again.” He grinned. “Don’t leave the casino. Got it?”
“So bossy.”
He narrowed his gaze.
She rolled her eyes. “All right. Fine. I won’t leave until you come to get me.”
“If I’m not free, I’ll send one of the other guys.” He wrapped his palm around her neck and pulled her in closer to kiss her lips.
Things happened to her body that shouldn’t have occurred from a simple kiss. She was in so much trouble when it came to this man. He ruled her. She wasn’t sure how she felt yet about his ability to command her so thoroughly, but there was no denying it. “See you tonight,” she mumbled against his lips.
He let her go, and she felt his gaze on her back as she walked in the front doors. She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes again at his overprotectiveness.
Thankfully, the day was uneventful. Her boss was extremely understanding and concerned about her wellbeing. He pulled her into his office first thing to make sure she was feeling okay. The police had spoken to him, so he knew there was a good chance Anton Yenin had run his employee off the road after work, and he felt a responsibility to his employees that extended way beyond the front doors.
Abby felt much better after the discussion. She was grateful her mind was back one hundred percent, and she had no trouble dealing blackjack all day without slowing down. She knew no one would fault her if she wasn’t quite up to speed, but she had a work ethic and years of experience that kept her on her game.
Lauren was still a mess, emotionally and physically. She was hiding out at Rider’s house for the near future. She had refused to go to the hospital, but the police had taken pictures of her and noted her condition for the record just in case. She hadn’t pressed charges, but Abby hoped she was recovering. The fact that she was safe was what mattered most.
Neither Yenin nor any of his cronies showed their faces inside The Crystal Palace all day. Thank God. Abby didn’t let herself think about the Russian mafia while she worked and only gave their absence a sigh of relief when she took her hourly breaks and ate lunch.
She could do this. She felt stronger by the hour, and when six o’clock rolled around, she was almost completely relaxed.
It was with this confidence that she walked out the front door of the building after her shift and rounded to the side to sit on a bench and wait for Zane to pick her up. He’d texted to let her know he would be there, but it would be closer to six-thirty. Fine with her. The weather was perfect. No way was she going to sit inside and wait. She tipped her head back and lifted her face toward the sky, closing her eyes and letting the late afternoon sun stream across her face.
She never managed to open her eyes again. The next thing she knew, a cloth covered her entire face, suffocating her with a horrible smell, and someone enormous had one hand covering her nose, mouth, and eyes, his other hand wrapped around her middle, hauling her off the bench.
Panic welled inside her, but it only lasted a moment before everything went black.
»»•««
Zane jogged from the fire station toward his car. He was late. He’d warned Abby he would be, but he hated leaving her waiting. He tugged his cell from his pocket and quickly typed in a text to let her know he was fifteen minutes out.
He jumped in his car and pulled onto the main road. The traffic was heavy, but he made it to The Crystal Palace in record time. Abby hadn’t returned his text, but he hadn’t said anything that required a response. Still, when he pulled up in front of the casino, he expected her to walk out the front door.
She did not.
He leaned to one side to extricate his phone from his pocket and found no new messages. He pulled around to the side street and parked before he sent her another quick text to let her know where he was and that he was coming inside.
No response.
He picked up his pace and headed for the front doors. However, his steps faltered when he spotted a man leaning against the edge of the building, smoking a cigarette and smirking at Zane. The man nodded, and Zane thought little of it until the guy spoke. “You lose something?” His thick Russian accent sent a chill down Zane’s spine, and he stopped walking.
Zane stared at the guy, his heart beating wildly while the man took his time, inhaling again long and hard on his cigarette. Finally, he dropped it to his feet and crushed it with the toe of his shoe. “Cute little lady about this tall?” He held out a hand flat in the air. “Thick sexy hair, deep blue eyes a man could get lost in?”
Zane didn’t move. Fuck.
The guy chuckled. “Yeah. You lost her all right. If you want to see her alive again, you’ll come with me without making a scene.”
Zane swallowed hard. Fuck fuck fuck. He glanced toward the front of the building, as though Abby would materialize, coming out the doors, a smile on her face, an apology about getting caught up in a conversation with coworkers.
That didn’t happen.
The Russian guy was large, not as big as Zane, but fit. Zane doubted he could take the man in a fight. The guy would be trained to kill, not maim. And besides, if Zane started throwing punches, there was a good chance Abby’s body would show up bludgeoned to death in an alley tomorrow morning.
Zane was fucked. Abby was more fucked.
The guy held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
Zane realized he still held it in his palm. Reluctantly, he handed it over. This scene went from bad to worse as the asshole pocketed his lifeline.
When the guy turned to walk toward the street, Zane followed, keeping his gaze pinned to the short spiky blond hair and broad shoulders in front of him.
He couldn’t breathe. What did this asshole want with him? Or Abby for that matter?
The man led him to a black Cadillac with tinted windows. He opened the door to the back seat and motioned for Zane to get in.
Zane ducked and peered inside first. There was no one in the car except a driver, and that man was facing forward, paying him no attention.
With another silent fuck, he got in the back seat.
Spike shut the door with a finality that made Zane flinch. Normally he wasn’t the sort of man who would fluster easily, but he’d also never been picked up by the Russian mob and shoved into a car against his will to be taken to an unknown location, either. Spike got in the front. He didn’t bother to introduce himself, nor did he or the driver say another word to Zane. They exchanged a few words in Russian to each other, but that was it.
»»•««
Abby blinked awake and moaned. She was uncomfortable and couldn’t wrap her mind around why. Her hair lay across her face, and she started to reach for the lock to brush them away—only to come up short.
Instantly she was completely awake, her eyes wide open. The room was pitch dark. Her hands were secured behind her back. The arm she’d been lying on was asleep and tingling. Her head hurt. She tried to sit upright and relieve the pressure on her pinned arm.
Her ankles were also tied together.
Fear seeped into every corner of her body. She shivered, realizing she was also cold.
Her memory came slamming in. She’d been waiting outside the casino for Zane to pick her up. Stupid idea. Obviously. Someone had covered her face. That was the last thing she remembered.
She started to hyperventilate and tucked her chin down to her knees.
Where was she? Who kidnapped her? And what did they want?
After the events of the last week, anything was possible. If Anton Yenin had tried to kill her, there was every chance he had taken her now to finish the job.
Tears filled her eyes as she realized how much trouble she was in.
She screamed. Terror filled her more with every passing moment.
She heard not a single sound coming from anywhere.
“Help.” Her voice didn’t sound lou
d enough to her ears. No one would hear her.
She scooted across the darkness, hoping to run into something. Finally, she hit a wall and wiggled up the side until she was standing. Her arms ached, and her wrists rubbed against whatever was tied around them. She twisted her fingers to attempt to figure out what the binding was.
Rope.
“Shit.” Thick rope. Not something she could easily untie.
She hopped gingerly across the floor, keeping her hands to the wall as she moved. Her eyes didn’t adjust to the darkness, which meant the room was very secure.
That made her feel even worse. What if no one ever came for her? Maybe the people who took her would leave her there for dead. It wouldn’t take long.
She licked her lips. She was thirsty. Her throat hurt, burning as if she’d taken a drink of scotch without warning.
Finally, she felt a change in the wall, a metal surface. The door. She grabbed the handle and tried to turn it. Nothing. It was locked.
In a complete panic, she screamed again, as loud as she could. Not one sound followed her pleas for help.
Eventually she scooted back away from the door and slid down the wall to sit on her butt.
She dipped her head between her legs again and rested her forehead on her knees.
Think, Abby.
»»•««
Zane watched out the window as they headed south out of Vegas. They drove to an industrial site, too far away for Zane’s taste, considering he was nervous as hell and couldn’t stop pondering all the possible places Abby could be and how scared she must be. The area was covered with smoke stacks and metal buildings.
Zane gripped his knees as they drove, noting every detail. Obviously his chaperones had no interest in concealing their location. That fact didn’t make Zane feel better. It only made him more suspicious of their intentions. The Russian mafia wouldn’t reveal their hideouts unless they intended to kill whoever they lured in.
Eventually, they stopped next to a warehouse that was surely condemned or abandoned at some point. Zane recognized the place immediately and breathed a sigh of relief. It was a known location for the underground to use for fights. That meant half the city knew of its location. It was no secret.
Spike got out of the car first and opened the back door. “Come.”
Zane climbed out of the car, scanning the area. Dozens of cars littered the street.
Spike started walking.
Zane followed, assuming that was the man’s intended response.
Spike headed for a tall metal sliding door on the side of the aluminum building and tugged it open so it slid to the right. He stuck out a hand and Zane stepped inside as his guide slid the door shut behind him.
The warehouse was a wide open space filled with cigar smoke, filth, shouting, and the smell of blood and sweat. About a hundred people were inside, lounging around the cage in the center of the room where two men fought hard. Zane winced. This was not his kind of fighting. These guys followed no rules. He had a bad taste in his mouth. And there was a good chance the two guys in the ring were only sparring. None of the spectators seemed particularly interested in the outcome. They were just watching for the entertainment value.
Spike continued up a set of rickety stairs and to the left until he reached a room off to the side. He opened the door and ushered Zane to enter. This time he didn’t follow. He shut the door behind Zane.
Zane squinted his eyes, still trying to recover from the sunlight. The room had more smoke in it than the main area of the warehouse, if that were possible.
It was an office of sorts. An enormous desk loomed on the far wall, and sitting behind it was Anton Yenin. “Ah, Zane Randolf. How nice of you to join me.” He didn’t stand from behind the desk, but he held out a hand to the chairs on the opposite side. “Please, sit.”
“I’d rather not.” Zane spread his feet wider and crossed his arms. “Where’s Abby?”
“Now now, young man. It’s rude to remain standing. Please, take a seat, and all will be explained.”
Zane narrowed his gaze. He didn’t like one aspect of this situation. Finally, he pulled a chair out and sat in it. “Talk, Yenin. Where is she?”
“Cute little brunette with blue eyes?”
“That’s the one.”
“She’s safe.”
“I want to see her for myself.”
Yenin took a long puff off his cigar. “And you shall. All in good time.”
“What do you want, Yenin?”
“Me? Oh, you misunderstand. I’m not the one who wants something.”
Zane waited. Yenin was playing with him. There was no sense engaging the man any more than necessary.
“It’s what my patrons want that matters.”
“And what would that be?”
“A fighter.”
Zane flinched. Fuck. “What makes you think I’ll fight for you?”
“Oh, you’ll fight for me all right. And you’ll need to give it the best shot of your life if you ever want Abby to see the light of day again.”
Fucking fuck. This goddamn asshole had Zane by the balls.
“You’ll fight on my docket tonight. If you win, Abby walks. If you lose, Abby’s mine. She’d a cute thing. And it seems I’ve just lost my previous sex interest. I happen to have an opening.” Yenin leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. “Ah, but you know all about that, don’t you?”
“Why do you care if I win or lose?” Zane knew Yenin was in need of fresh meat. Wouldn’t it be more of a crowd pleaser if Zane got his ass kicked?
“Because I want you to feel the gravity of what’s at stake here. If you throw the fight or give up at any point, I’ll have my cock buried so far in your woman’s pussy by the end of the night, she’ll never even remember your name.”
Zane blew out a breath. He was fucked. Well and truly fucked. He was a good fighter. One of the best in the amateur circuits, but he was not trained to fight dirty, and he had no experience in a fight to the death. Zane leaned back in his chair. “You know good and well my chances of survival are slim.”
“I do. That’s why I needed your woman to add pressure to the arrangement.”
God dammit. This had nothing to do with Abby. Yenin wanted Zane. “You’ve been following me.”
Anton grinned. “Of course. I had my men follow Lauren right to Abby’s door. Stupid bitch. I hit the lottery when they reported back who all came and went from that house.” He winked.
Fuck. “When is this fight supposed to take place?”
Yenin glanced at his watch. “In about an hour. The first fight is at eight. You’re second.” Yenin stood and walked to a second door behind him. He yelled through the frame, “Erik, get my boy here suited up.” He turned back to Zane, who had not moved from his chair.
“I want to see Abby first.”
“You will, my boy. Later. Right now, I need you to follow Erik to the locker rooms and get some shorts.”
Zane took a deep breath and stood. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was fight some asshole in a cage with no rules. Well, that was the second to last thing he wanted to do. The last thing he wanted was to let Abby fall prey to Anton Yenin. The thought of that man even touching her hand made him want to vomit.
»»•««
Rider’s cell phone rang as he shut down his computer to leave the precinct. He lifted it from the desk, his brow furrowed at the unknown number as he answered. “Henderson speaking.”
“Rider. It’s Mikhail.” Rider could barely hear the man. It sounded like he was whispering in a noisy location.
“Who?”
“Mikhail. Mikhail Dudko. Listen to me. I don’t have much time. Anton has Zane’s woman.”
Rider held the phone closer to his ear and sat back in his chair. “What? Where’s Zane?”
“They have him too. They’re at the old warehouse. You know the place. Huge fight night. You need to get your ass here fast and bring a shit-ton of backup. I gotta go.” The line went dead.
Rider held the phone for several seconds longer, willing Dudko to say more.
“Fuck.” He jumped from his seat and ran from his office.
»»•««
Zane followed Erik without a word. The guy never spoke to him. He simply handed him a pair of shorts in the attached locker room and waited while Zane changed out of his clothes. When he was finished, he glared at Erik.
Erik paid no attention. “You want gloves?”
“Yes.”
Erik chuckled. “Pussy.” But he handed Zane a pair of gloves.
Zane followed Erik out to the center of the warehouse, glancing in every direction for any sign of Abby. He didn’t see her, but he did see several other guys he knew—Russian guys he’d occasionally sparred with.
No one spoke to him. They kept their gazes focused on anything but him. He had no idea if every one of his Russian fighting friends was involved in this or not. And he couldn’t help but wonder if the visit from Dmitry yesterday had anything to do with tonight’s developments. There was little chance there was no connection.
Anton now sat on a high stool against the side of the cage. The first two fighters entered the ring while Erik led Zane over to Yenin.
“Where’s Abby, Yenin. I’m not getting in that ring until I’ve seen her.” He planted his feet, his hands on his hips, and stared hard at Yenin.
Yenin did nothing but smirk. “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. But as it happens, Abby will be here shortly. I don’t want her to miss your fight.”
Zane felt marginal relief at that notion.
The first fight began and Zane turned to watch. He recognized both men—Ivan Belinsky and Leo Gulin. They circled around the center, assessing each other for several moments after the bell rang.
Suddenly Yenin shouted, “Get a move on, boys. We don’t have all night, and no one’s paying to watch you two fucking dance.”
Zane flinched as Leo threw the first punch. Ivan ducked, holding up one arm to block the attack. Something was off. Zane knew better. These guys were excellent fighters. They didn’t miss, and they didn’t need to block. He narrowed his gaze and watched as the dance continued.
Perhaps it was all part of their show. Staged.
The Fight Club - Boxed Set Page 123
