Zel: Markovic MMA

by Roxie Rivera

  As if reading his mind, she embraced him and kissed his cheek. “I love you so much.”

  Closing his eyes, he hugged her back and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Erin.”

  When he dropped onto his back next to her, Erin snuggled up close. She traced the inked lines on his chest. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve built.”

  “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he admitted, turning his head so she could see the sincere look on his face. “Everything I’ve built since we got together? That’s all you, Erin. That’s you pushing me and forcing me to see the warehouse as something bigger than just a local gym.”

  “That warehouse is your future,” she insisted. “It’s your legacy.”

  “Our legacy,” he corrected. “It’s ours.”

  She touched his jaw. “Is that why you’re so stressed out today? Are you worried that we’ll have a setback if Zel loses tonight?”

  He expelled a troubled breath. “If he loses, we’ll be fine. We have two other fighters showcased tonight. Kir will win in the first round,” he said with certainty. “TKO,” he added. “You know what he’s like once he steps in the ring.”

  She nodded. “He’s a beast.”

  “And Javi will be walking out of his fight tonight one step closer to the featherweight title match,” he continued, thinking of the former Hermanos gang member who had wandered into his gym two years ago with big dreams and an explosive kick. “We’re going to have a strong showing tonight.”

  “Even if Zel takes a loss?”

  “The possibility of Zel losing isn’t my main concern. If he loses? He loses. It happens. No.” He sighed. “I’m worried he’ll get hurt. Bad,” he added. “Zel’s head is all fucked up. He’s so torn up about Sara he’s not thinking straight. Mace is dangerous. That man can hit. He’s like Sergei. That punch? It’s deadly. If Zel isn’t right up here,” he tapped his skull, “he might not block and defend.”

  Erin lifted up on her elbow and rested her head in the palm of her hand. She studied him carefully. “Are you going to pull him from the fight?”

  Ivan met his wife’s questioning gaze. “No.” He had made that decision and would stick with it. “Physically, he’s fine. He’s not anymore banged up than any other fighter that steps into the ring on fight night. They all come to their matches with bruises and mild injuries. It’s part of the life. He says he can get his head right before tonight.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “I trust him to know if he’s ready.”

  “He’s been through so much,” she said quietly. “He’s lost so much. He might not be thinking clearly, Ivan.”

  He wiped a hand down his face. She was right, of course. “I told him to stay away from Sara, but I let him guilt me into cutting him some slack. I feel sick thinking about the way I encouraged him to be with her. I knew better!” he exclaimed angrily. “I fucking knew better. That woman is like poison.”

  “Why would you say that?” Erin sounded upset. “She’s a lovely person. I enjoyed her company last night.”

  “One night isn’t enough to get to know someone.”

  “Oh really?”

  He knew exactly what she meant, and he didn’t care for the comparison. “That’s different, Erin. You were different.”

  “Why? How? Because I’m not a dancer?”

  “No.” Turning on his side so he could maintain eye contact, he said, “You were innocent when you came into my gym for help. You didn’t steal. You didn’t deal drugs. You lived a good, clean life. You were just trying to save your sister.”

  “Unless there’s something else about Sara you haven’t told me, the only mistake she made was falling in love with the wrong man. She was young. It happens. She shouldn’t be punished for that for the rest of her life.”

  He grunted roughly, not wanting to admit that his wife was right.

  Erin interlaced their hands. She brushed her lips against his temple and cheek. “Listen, I nearly got you killed. I brought a mess to your doorstep, but that didn’t stop you from helping me. Everyone warned you. They told you to stay away and to be smart. Did you listen?”

  He sent a mock annoyed glance her way. “I’m beginning to think I should have.”

  She playfully bit his earlobe. “Hush! You know that you’d be miserable without me.”

  “I would,” he agreed. “There’s no argument there.”

  She kissed him, her lips lingering on his. “Ivan, you protected me. You took care of me. You loved me.” She squeezed his hand. “What’s wrong with Zel doing the same thing for Sara?”

  “I don’t know,” he grumbled.

  “What if she’s the one, Ivan? What if he feels the same way about Sara that I felt about you?”

  He perked to that. “How did you feel about me?”

  She actually blushed. “You were so wrong for me, but when I walked out of your office, I knew you were the man that was going to change my life.”

  “I knew that I was going to marry you by the end of that first night,” he admitted. “I felt it here.” He touched his chest. “I’d never felt that until you.”

  “What if that’s the way Zel feels about Sara?”

  Ivan sighed. “Then I suppose you’re going to cook up some plan to get them back together.”

  “I’m already on it,” she confessed with an impish smile. “I texted Besian first thing this morning. We’re working out the details now.”

  His eyes widened with concern. “Erin, I don’t want you text messaging Besian. Have you forgotten that he wanted to hurt you?”

  “I haven’t forgotten. It was a long time ago. It was different circumstances. I’ve forgiven him and moved on from that night.”

  “Not that long ago!” Ivan scoffed. “And how the hell did you get his number? Has he been bothering you?”

  “I got it from Vivian. She—”

  “—is trouble!” he cut in sharply. “I can’t wait to tell Kolya that his wife is hooking my wife up with a loan shark.”

  Erin rolled her eyes. “Are you done acting ridiculous?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” She surprised him by pushing off the mattress and sliding her leg across his hip. Straddling his lap, she grasped the bottom of her little nightie and dragged it up and over her head. Naked and wanting him, she planted both hands on his chest and leaned down to kiss him. “I guess I have no choice but to distract you and make you forget all about my scheming.”

  “Erin,” he said, his voice rough with need as she stroked his cock back to hardness. “If we keep this up, you’ll have a belly as big as Vivian’s by summer.”

  Laughing, she sat up and wiggled her backside until she had him right where she wanted him. She bit her lower lip as she sank down on his rock hard shaft. “I’m counting on it…”

  Chapter Nine

  Black hair whipping wildly, Sara shook what her mama gave her center stage at Vegas’ hottest punk club. Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls blared over the sound system as she performed her brand-new number for the thirtieth birthday bash of BJ Barnes, the lead singer of the infamous punk rock band Blue Sunday.

  Dressed like a sassy fifties pinup, Sara worked the crowd into a frenzy as she teased them with the slow removal of her polka dot dress. The sight of her plump curves in vintage cherry red lingerie set them off. She smoothed her hands over the swell of her breasts and along the satin shaper hugging her tummy and hips. Tipped forward in her red heels, Sara sashayed to the antique convertible parked stage left and crawled onto the hood. Her catlike movements showed off her best assets and had the crowd catcalling.

  With the grace of a gymnast, Sara carefully balanced on the hood, her heels finding traction on the safety mat her crew had put in place. Rocking side to side, she unhooked the back of the shaper and peeled it away from her body. She tossed it overhead and did a sexy spin atop the hood, giving everyone a good look at the lacy briefs coverin
g her voluptuous ass. Sara gave her backside a hearty smack.

  The roar of approval sent shivers down her spine. Tonight, more than ever, Sara desperately needed the energy of the pumped-up crowd. Despite being utterly heartbroken, she approached this engagement with the utmost professionalism. BJ deserved to feel like the center of her attention. Feeding off the crowd allowed Sara to play up her sexiness and mischievous nature.

  Hips swiveling, she crouched low and gave them a peek between her thighs before sitting down on the edge of the hood. Her legs dangled over the side as she kicked off her pumps and then made a show of unsnapping her garters and peeling off one black stocking and then the other. She used one stocking as a prop, holding it beneath her breasts as she gave them a wild shake.

  Legs bare, Sara dropped the stocking and slid off the hood. She danced back to center stage and hooked her thumbs in the lacy red briefs. Undulating like a belly dancer, Sara dragged the panties down her ample hips inch by teasing inch to reveal a red G-string and the words “Happy Birthday BJ” emblazoned across her ass cheeks in fiery orange paint. The whistles and clapping nearly drowned out the music.

  She stepped out of her panties and strutted downstage until she could almost touch the crowd. Sara made quick work of dispensing her bra. Red and black nipple tassels fluttered free, the thin cords smacking against her skin. She launched the bra into the crowd before grabbing her full breasts and jiggling them in her palms. Releasing her breasts, Sara pumped her fist in the air and danced like a madwoman to the final twenty or so seconds of a song she considered her personal anthem.

  As Freddie Mercury’s voice faded on the track and the pounding guitar and drums took over, Sara danced backward toward the car. Just seconds before the song ended, she hopped onto the car’s edge and fell backward into the backseat, feet straight up in the air.

  When the curtain fell, the club shook with thunderous applause. Her body vibrated with the excited shouts and whistles. Breathless, she panted and touched her face. What should have been one of the proudest moments of her life was tainted with the regret of what had happened with Zel. Even now the memories of yesterday intruded. She wished she could just forget the whole ugly scene.

  With her crew’s help, Sara got out of the backseat and returned to her dressing room. Lucy helped her clean the body paint off her backside. While not a particularly glamorous moment for either of them, they managed to laugh about the lengths they both went to in order to provide the best show possible. As always after debuting a number, they discussed the minor changes she might make to the routine the next time she used it.

  Keeping with her fifties theme for the night, Sara changed into a hip-hugging red dress with a sexy pencil skirt and pleated bust. She styled her hair into a fifties-inspired coiffure and slipped on a pair of designer pumps. Back out in the crowd, Sara plastered on her brightest smile and schmoozed. She wished BJ the very happiest birthday and even had a piece of cake.

  As soon as she could, Sara slipped away unnoticed through a back exit. Her entourage of assistants, stylists and crew members stayed at the club with her blessing. They deserved a night of enjoyment for all their hard work.

  But Lucy, hardworking, loyal and the best sister ever, bundled her into the backseat of a private car that whisked them away from the noisy nightspot. “You okay?”

  Lucy knew everything that had happened last night. Sara had never kept anything from her sister, especially not something that important. The only details Sara had kept to herself concerned the manner of Lalo’s death. That was a secret she would take to the grave.

  Everything else had been fair game. Lucy had agreed that there was nothing good that would come from telling the rest of the family that Ramsay had shown up in Las Vegas or the way he had tried to attack her or the way Besian had made him disappear. It was better if they went home and never mentioned him at all.

  “I’m fine.” Feeling so incredibly alone, Sara stared out the window and watched the blur of the passing strip. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about Zel. Soon, he would be climbing into that eight-sided cage for that barbaric fight. Her stomach churned at the conjured image of his bruised and battered body. If he were hurt badly, she’d just die.

  It seemed ridiculous that she could care about one person so deeply after so short a time, but there it was. Her heart clenched as she realized just how much she cared about Zel. This wasn’t infatuation or lust. This was something more. Something so serious she trembled with its power.

  The limo rolled to a stop, and the driver climbed out but he didn’t open the door. Sara glanced at her sister with confusion. Her sister looked anxious and a little guilty too. Narrowing her eyes, Sara asked, “What did you do?”

  “Last night, I made some new friends,” Lucy said as she opened the flap on the leather messenger bag she carried everywhere. “Erin Markovic is pretty much the nicest woman I’ve ever met. She’s sweet, and she cares about her husband’s fighters.”

  Sara swallowed nervously. “And?”

  “And she wanted me to give you this.” Lucy handed over a legal-sized envelope.

  Sara took the envelope from her sister. Curious, she squeezed together the metal brads and shook the contents of the envelope into her palm. She frowned with confusion at the pictures that fell out and into her hand. The first was a snapshot of the cutest little boy. Sara didn’t even have to turn it over to identify the child. It was Zel’s son, Matthias.

  The next picture was a group of shabbily dressed young children ranging from toddlers to teens stood on the steps of a rundown building. Faded and chipped painted letters arched over the entrance. St. Marko Krizin Orphanage.

  She stared at the faces of the children, noticing their haunted eyes. Upon closer inspection, they all looked a bit skinny and ever so sad. Her heart broke for the poor little creatures. She could tell by the age of the picture that it was at least thirty years old. Was one of those little boys Zel?

  The final photo was a snapshot of Zel, Ivan, Alexei and some other men, all of them brawny fighter types, in their workout clothes. They were sweaty and laughing. It was a brotherhood of men who shared the same gym space.

  She unfolded the note that accompanied the photos and read the handwritten message from Erin Markovic.

  Zel is like my Ivan. Believe me when I say that you will never find a man more loyal or loving than Zel. Don’t let him slip through your fingers now. He fought for you. It’s time for you to fight for him.

  Her gaze drifted to the VIP credentials that had fallen onto her lap when she had given the envelope a shake. Sara swallowed hard as she realized this was one of those moments she would look back on some day with the utmost satisfaction or the deepest regret. It struck her quite suddenly there wasn’t really a decision to be made. She wanted Zel. She wanted to apologize and make things right.

  “I’m supposed to tell you that if you aren’t going those photos need to be returned to Besian tonight. Erin kind of borrowed them from Zel’s hotel room.”

  Sara put the phots back in the envelope. “I’ll give them back to Zel myself.”

  Lucy grinned. “Go get your man, Sara. For once in your life, be happy.”

  Sara didn’t hesitate. “I will be happy.”

  Lucy leaned over and kissed her cheek before tapping on the car window to signal the driver. The door opened, and she stepped out of the vehicle. Bending down, she instructed, “Don’t worry about me or the rest of the team. You go and do your thing. I’ve got this.”

  “I love you, Lucy. Thank you.”

  “I love you, Sarita. Good luck!”

  The door was shut, and the driver slid behind the wheel. He glanced back at her, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. “You just sit tight, Miss Rubens. I’ve got friends working security. We’ll get you right in the fight.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered, desperation overtaking her body.

  The next twenty minutes were the longest of her life. The driver wove in and out of the heavy tra
ffic. Sara’s eyes bugged out at some of his maneuvers. Once, they barely cleared another car’s side by mere centimeters, but so long as he kept the car moving forward, she didn’t care.

  Antsy, Sara fidgeted with her skirt’s hem and wondered what the hell she was going to say when she saw Zel. Somehow “I was wrong” just didn’t seem to cut it. But it was the best she had. It would have to do.

  When they neared the arena, her driver took a side street that led them to a back entrance with loading docks for vendors. The moment the limo stopped, Sara bailed from the backseat and dashed toward a pair of security guards chatting animatedly with someone hanging out near an exit door. Besian.

  The mob boss smiled at her as she raced toward him, tottering on her too tall heels. He made a show of checking his watch. “You cut it close.”

  “I got her here as quickly as possible, Mr. Beciraj. Just as you instructed,” her driver said.

  “I appreciate it.” Besian handed the driver a thick envelope. “You’ll stay here until my friend and her man are ready to leave. The guards know a place you can park.”

  “Yes, sir.” The driver happily pocketed the envelope.

  Sara presented her credentials to the security guards. One of them flicked his fingers after studying them. “Follow me. I’ll get you to your seats.”

  Bubbling with excitement and relief, Sara latched onto Besian’s arm. “Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me.”

  Besian kissed the top of her head. “You’ll always be one of my girls.”

  Her relationship with Besian would always be hard to explain to an outsider. They were friends, but more than friends. Their friendship had survived so much because they had never fallen prey to the messy romantic entanglements and sexual attraction that ruined so many of these types of relationships. It seemed oddly fitting that the man who had shown her a way to save her family ten years ago was now showing her how to save her budding romance with Zel.

  They traversed a series of labyrinthine hallways and stairwells. Employees rushed along the same corridors, often shoving her out of the way in their haste to get to their destinations. Sara didn’t care. She just needed to see Zel.