Zel: Markovic MMA

by Roxie Rivera

  Well—maybe not all of them. Zel zeroed in on the newer pieces decorating his coach’s body. They were all for Erin and told a different story, a story of something new and bright and filled with hope. He suspected those tattoos were Ivan’s version of love notes for his beloved wife.

  Ivan had always loved a good steam room so Zel wasn’t surprised to see him in here today. There was a look on Ivan’s face that made him wary. Certain he was about to get an earful of advice and criticism from his coach, he steeled himself for the worst.

  Ivan surprised him by chuckling darkly as he settled onto the bench and stretched out his legs. “You aren’t going to believe the phone call I just had.”

  Zel’s chest tightened as he imagined all sorts of scenarios. Was it Besian telling Ivan that Lalo Contreras was dead? Was it Nikolai warning Ivan that shit was about to go down with Sara? Was the cartel headed this way to pressure Sara into giving them Lalo’s assets? Were the Feds coming here to shake her down and make trouble?

  “Lyosha is here.”

  Zel shrugged as he idly scratched his chest. Alexei coming to Vegas was nothing strange or out of the ordinary, certainly nothing to warrant the surprise on Ivan’s face. “He always comes to Vegas for his birthday.”

  “He didn’t come alone. He brought that pretty little maid of his and took her straight to the courthouse.” Ivan paused for dramatic effect. “He’s going to marry her. Tonight.”

  Shocked, Zel glanced back at Ivan. “Did you know it was that serious?”

  “It had to be serious for him to stick his neck out like that for her,” Ivan answered matter-of-factly.

  “The way you stuck your neck out for Erin?”

  “The way you’re going to stick your neck out for Sara Contreras,” Ivan shot back with a knowing glance.

  “Running off Sara’s stepbrother is nothing compared to the things you did for Erin or the things Alexei has done for the cleaning lady.”

  “If you hang around Sara long enough, you’ll have to do the same things I did for Erin,” Ivan warned. “Maybe even worse.”

  Because he needed advice and Ivan was the only man qualified to give it, Zel blurted out, “Lalo is dead.”

  Ivan’s expression slackened. “Dead? You’re sure?”

  Zel nodded. “That’s why Ramsay is in town. He seems to think he’s owed everything that Sara has just inherited.”

  Ivan made a face. “That’s bad news, Zel. She’s going to have the DEA, FBI, the Texas Rangers and everyone else digging through her life. You don’t need that kind of shit in your life.”

  He understood what Ivan was saying without saying it. If they were dating and the Feds started looking at Sara, they would start digging into his history. They might uncover things that men like Besian would rather keep hidden.

  With a rough exhale, Ivan declared, “There is a lot of history with that woman that you don’t know.”

  “She told me everything last night.” He glanced back at Ivan and met his coach’s hard gaze. “Everything. Besian. The dancing. Her marriage to Lalo. The drug deals. The fight at Besian’s club. Alexei bailing Besian out and hiding her away in Dallas after Besian rescued her. They money they gave her for her business.” He touched the mark that mirrored his on his own skin. “Her tattoo.”

  “What she didn’t tell you is the things she doesn’t know that went down that night of the club attack,” Ivan grumbled. “She was this close,” he held his thick finger and thumb only a few centimeters apart, “from the end.” He slashed his hand across the front of his throat. “She’s lucky that so many people liked her and spoke up for her, but there’s still bad blood between her and Nikolai. She’ll never be allowed back in Houston.”

  It was a subtle warning about possible future complications. Unbothered by it, Zel replied, “I’m not tied to Houston anymore. Not after tomorrow night.”

  “If you win,” Ivan reminded him carefully.

  “I’m going to win.” There was no other possibility in Zel’s mind. He had visualized the fight hundreds of times, thousands even. He was going to win—and then he was going to walk away a free man.

  And maybe, if he was very lucky, he would be walking away with Sara right next to him.

  “You better win.” Ivan stretched his arms high overhead and inhaled deeply. “If you don’t, Erin is going to have my ass when she finds out how much I have in Besian’s book for this fight.”

  Zel pretended not to hear that. Illegal gambling with a known mobster would get them both in deep shit with the league.

  “Alexei wants you at the wedding tonight. It’s at the Bellagio. I’ll text you the details when I get them.”

  “I’ll be there.” He and Alexei had been friends since his first day in Houston. Alexei had been the one to help him find a cheap apartment close to the hospital and odd jobs to make ends meet.

  “I told Alexei that Sara is in town. She’ll get an invite so you two may as well come together.”

  An irrational flare of jealousy burned Zel as he remembered Sara’s story from last night. She had mentioned Alexei giving her seed money. Knowing what he did of Alexei’s reputation with dancing girls, he had to ask, “Sara and Alexei…?”

  Ivan laughed and smacked Zel’s shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance. “No. Never. Not like that.” Smiling, Ivan added, “Alexei tried, but she wasn’t having it. They’re friends. That’s it.”

  He felt like an asshole to be so relieved by Ivan’s assertion. Whatever Sara had done in her past life was none of his business—but he’d be a liar if he said that the thought of her in bed with Alexei hadn’t twisted up his insides.

  “She was young when she made her mistakes.” Ivan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the sauna. “We were all fuck-ups at that age. She’s done right by her family and her friends. She squared things with Besian and Alexei. Hell,” Ivan exhaled a long, slow breath, “I’m sure if she asked nicely, Nikolai would lift his banishment and welcome her back into the city. We’ve all moved on since then.”

  “I’m ready to move on,” Zel said, the thought coming to him suddenly. It might have been the dehydration and heat, but he felt giddy and lightheaded. “I’m ready to start living again.”

  Ivan eyed him closely. “If she made you wake up and want to live again after one night in her bed, she must know some special tricks.”

  Zel shot him the finger, and Ivan laughed.

  More serious now, Ivan said, “That’s good, Zel. It’s very good. You need to live. Your little boy was so special. He was such a good kid. He was always happy and smiling, and—forgive me—but I think he wouldn’t like to see you this way. Sad. Withdrawn. Alone.” He shook his head. “I was alone for too long. If Erin hadn’t come into the gym that day, I would still be a miserable, lonely bastard. She changed my life, and I’m a lucky man for that. If Sara can do that for you? Let her.”

  Ivan’s advice rattled around in his head as Zel finished up his time in the sauna, took a long shower and then stepped on the scale. He was three pounds under the limit for the middleweight class. Pleased, he stepped off and went in search of a bottle of water. He sipped it slowly, just enough to wet his mouth, and moved to a quiet, relaxed corner of the locker room to wait.

  After the highly publicized weigh-in at six o’clock, he would have just enough time to change into a suit and head to the Bellagio for Alexei’s wedding. He wouldn’t be able to stay long after the ceremony. He needed to rehydrate and start fueling his body for the grueling contest that awaited him.

  “Here.” Ivan waved a cell phone. “Your phone was ringing in your locker.”

  Zel caught it and glanced at the screen. He had a missed call from Sara and had a text message waiting. He swiped his thumb over the screen and tapped in his code so he could read it.

  I’m sure you’ve heard the good news! No better way to spend a Friday night than a Vegas wedding! <3 <3 <3

  His thumb hesitated over the screen of his phone. He wasn’t good at f
lirting via text. Hell, he wasn’t very skilled when it came to flirting in person. He finally tapped out a message and hit send, all the while hoping she would say yes.

  Spend your Friday night with me? Weigh-in. Wedding. Dinner.

  He tapped his phone against his thigh while he anxiously awaited her reply. It came a few minutes later.

  Yes!

  Smiling like a fool, he typed back a quick message, letting her know that he would make sure her name was on the VIP seat list for the weigh-in and then escort her to the wedding at the Bellagio.

  “Hey, it’s time.” Ivan rapped his knuckles on a locker to get Zel’s attention.

  Inhaling a deep breath, he set aside his phone and got dressed. It was a short walk to the holding rooms where each fighter and his team waited for their turn to walk onto the stage for the televised weigh-in. After the weigh-in, he would have time to change into his suit for the presser that would follow. Once that was done, his obligations to the league were completed for the night.

  And then Sara is all mine…

  Feeling those pre-fight jitters, Zel stretched his neck as he waited for the elevator to reach their floor. He was already in his walkout gear, his T-shirt and trunks nearly skin-tight and emblazoned with the Markovic MMA logo as well as the various brands who paid to promote him and the league. He hated these weigh-in spectacles. The pressure to perform for the cameras had never been something he enjoyed. He liked to brawl in the cage. He was good at that part.

  But this? Posing aggressively? The trash talk? It just wasn’t his style. He wanted to walk onstage, step on the scale and walk right off, but he couldn’t. The contracts he had signed demanded that he play the part—and so he would.

  When the elevator reached their floor, he followed Ivan and the other trainers on his team. He glanced across the hall just in time to see Sara come into view. A black dress hugged her curves, accentuating the fullness of her breasts and that luscious ass he had worshipped last night. Surrounded by her entourage, she walked toward the weigh-in room to take her VIP seat.

  Their eyes met across the crowded lobby and instantly the sparks of desire ignited his lust. A gaggle of her fans stepped into the way, thrusting cell phones at her in search of the perfect selfie and momentarily obstructing his view. Zel slowed his pace as he crossed the distance between them. She’d just finished smiling for the last photo when he neared her.

  As they passed, Zel was so close he caught the bright citrus scent of her perfume. Briefly, Sara’s fingers touched his. Paper crinkled against his skin. Without looking down, Zel accepted her note, the giddy nervousness of his schoolboy days suddenly fresh in his mind. He didn’t dare glance at his hand, afraid to alert anyone to the note she’d just passed.

  Fist clenched, he followed Ivan without breaking step. It was only when he reached the safety of the holding room with the rest of his team that he uncurled his fingers and looked at the note in his hand. The folded slip of paper held a perfect lip print in the sexiest shade of red.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t stop imagining all the places he wanted her to leave lip prints like that. His mind refused to focus on the task at hand. Even when it was his turn to weigh-in, he was consumed by thoughts of Sara and the night ahead of them. He was oblivious to the cameras or the promoters and even his opponent. He peeled out of his walkout shirt, stepped up to the scale—and spotted Sara sitting right there in the front row.

  Wickedly sexy, Sara flashed a playful smile and wink. His groin tightened and he prayed he wasn’t about to sport wood right here in front of everyone. It would be a press photo he would never live down.

  Across the stage, he met Mace’s cold stare. His opponent looked like hell. The usually bulky fighter was now ripped so lean his skin looked drawn and tight. Every sinewy cord was visible in the other man’s neck and arms. Cutting all that weight had reduced him to his leanest state, but he seemed glassy eyed and almost confused.

  As he stepped on the scale, Zel locked eyes with Sara. They shared a sizzling glance, and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He gulped and broke eye contact. The professional fighter within him urged common sense and reminded him that he needed a clear head and rest for tomorrow night’s fight.

  But the red-blooded man within him, the primal side that drove him inside the ring, had other ideas. Dirty, sexy, sweaty, all-night until they both collapsed ideas.

  Suddenly, Mace wasn’t his biggest worry anymore. He would win this fight if he relied on his innate talent and trusted the skills he had honed under Ivan’s watchful eye.

  No, his biggest concern was Sara. One night with this woman, and he was ready to live again. There was something about her that made him feel invincible—and that was dangerous, especially with the hardest fight of his career and threat of her stepbrother looming just out of sight.

  If I’m not careful, she’s going to be the death of me.

  The thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should have.

  Chapter Six

  Sara couldn’t believe her first real date with Zel was a wedding! She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be good luck or bad luck. Considering her track record with men, she decided she had probably unwittingly doomed her relationship with Zel by agreeing to come as his date.

  But Alexei was like family to her, a man who had been something of an older brother for the past ten years, and she wasn’t about to miss out on such a wonderful moment in his life. During their short phone call earlier that afternoon, she hadn’t gotten much out of him about the identity of his bride, just her first name and the story of how he had met her. It seemed like a sweet romance, and she was happy for Alexei.

  Standing at the front of the Bellagio’s beautifully decorated east chapel, Alexei exuded confidence and power in his crispy pressed and cleanly tailored dark suit. Ivan stood next to him in a similar dark suit and seemed to be giving Alexei last-minute advice. Ivan was probably one of the few men that Alexei would actually listen to when it came to women so she hoped Ivan was giving him some useful pointers for navigating the ups and downs of marriage.

  From what Sara had heard from friends back in Houston, Ivan had settled down very happily into marital bliss. A few rows ahead of Sara, Erin Markovic looked stunning in a cobalt blue cocktail dress with a fantastic black belt that nipped in her already tiny waist and accentuated her fit curves. By the looks of it, Ivan had finally found someone he enjoyed spoiling with lavish gifts. Diamonds dangled from her ears and glinted around her neck. The rock on her left hand was slightly bigger than the diamond she wore on her right.

  Yet the tender smile on Erin’s face anytime she looked at her husband was enough to convince Sara that theirs was a match based on true love and deep devotion. Sara remembered Ivan from his early days in Houston. Back then, the Russian brute was known for violence and mayhem. He was the man who never questioned the orders that came from Nikolai and did whatever was necessary to grow their territory and gain more control over the city.

  Despite that hard reputation, he had never been unkind toward women. That seemed to be his line in the sand. Once, he had come into Besian’s club Harem, the spot where she had started her career, with Alexei. She still remembered how uncomfortable he had looked and how quickly he had lumbered out of that club and disappeared. Maybe even all those years ago he had been looking for something a little different than his peers.

  It seemed that he had found what he was looking for in Erin. She reminded Sara of a ballerina with her slim build and graceful way of moving. Apparently that saying about opposites attracting had some truth to it because she had never seen two people who were more different—or so obviously happy.

  “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

  Sara glanced to her right at the unexpected sound of Besian’s familiar voice. He gestured to the open space next to her in the pew before sliding into it. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he flashed her a smile and then leaned forward so he could make eye contact with Zel. They exchanged a brief glance befo
re Zel turned his attention to the front of the chapel. She didn’t fault him for the public display of coldness toward Besian. The last thing he needed was someone digging around and trying to publicly tie him to a known mob boss with his dirty hands wrist-deep in loans and gambling.

  “It’s a good thing I have friends with access to private jets. There wasn’t a seat left on any of the Houston flights coming to Vegas. I had to make a deal with the devil for my seat,” he said, brushing lint from his pants. “The things I do for my friends!”

  She caught his double-meaning in the sly look he directed toward her. Leaning closer, she asked in a whisper, “When were you going to tell me about him?”

  “That is a conversation I wasn’t prepared to have over the phone or via email or text.” He checked his phone for any messages and switched it to silent before tucking it back into his pocket. “We’ll discuss that later tonight.”

  “Tomorrow,” she corrected, a faint blush making her face hot. “I have plans.”

  Besian eyed Zel’s hand as it moved to her thigh, just above her knee, in a gentle but clearly possessive gesture. That seemed to be Zel’s unspoken way of telling Besian that the rules were different now.

  “I see,” Besian replied with a hint of a smile. “I can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” As he fetched a jawbreaker from his pocket, he glanced back to see the last few guests trickling into the room. He made a grumbling sound before popping the candy into his mouth. Voice lowered, he murmured, “Stay close to me tonight until I smooth things over with our old friend.”

  Barely moving her neck, Sara looked toward the aisle of the chapel and felt her heart flutter in her chest when Nikolai Kalasnikov and his very pregnant wife came into view. He looked every bit the mafia don in that black suit and black tie. The dark ink marking his fingers was plainly visible, and at this distance, she could see the little bit of ink that even his shirt collars didn’t cover. Beneath that designer suit, Nikolai’s body was rumored to be a canvas of criminal and mafia ink, each piece recording his violent history and rise to power.