Page 48 of Fight

Twelve

P

Watching Ioan, I’d felt like I was in a trance. His jaw was stubbled with dark hair that looked deliciously raspy, and my skin practically tingled as I imagined it brushing against my skin.

I knew exactly how his lips felt against mine, how warm, wonderfully strong his body was. As we’d sat, I’d been certain he would kiss me again, well, do more than that.

Then he’d stood, leveled me with a look that was distant, lacking the heat that had been in his eyes just moments ago. And his statement had effectively derailed the train of my thoughts and put them squarely back on my current predicament. Which was where they needed to be, but the change was jarring, and despite all reason, I missed the intimacy.

“What happens now?” I asked, my heart starting to speed, and this time not with desire.

This morning had been a nice diversion, but he was reminding me that there was serious business at hand. Instead of answering my question, Ioan said, “What do you know about Markov’s business?”

So he was trying to get information. Maybe that would be the cost of his help. I knew little, but I had more information than money. Not much, but some, maybe enough to be useful. It occurred to me that in Ioan’s world, that might be the more valuable currency.

“More than I want to,” I said and then added, “I know he’s a scumbag drug dealer.”

Ioan nodded, both confirmation and asking for me to continue.

“He runs his drugs and girls out of his clubs and warehouses,” I said, shivering involuntarily as I thought back to those days I’d spent there.

“You were there?” Ioan asked.

His voice had a different quality to it, a dangerous one that drew my gaze back to his face. His eyes glinted with barely restrained anger.

“Yeah. I was a drink girl,” I said.

A look at Ioan told me that he knew just as well as I did that I wouldn’t have been for long. Markov had had plans for me.

“So you know how he operates?” Ioan said a moment later, his voice normal again but his eyes still hard.

A little ball of panic settled in the pit of my stomach as I wondered if what little I knew of him would be of value, what it would mean for me if it wasn’t.

“Nothing specific,” I finally said.

Ioan didn’t react positively or negatively, which did nothing to calm me.

“What about the fights? Do you know about them?”

“Not a lot,” I said, giving him an easy shrug that didn’t at all match what I was feeling. “Outside of my own personal experience, I’ve only heard rumors. Brutal, big-money bets.”

He nodded, his posture and expression still maddeningly vague. I wanted to press, but I didn’t, exercising a rare patience, mostly because I had no idea what he was thinking.

“That is how I will repay Markov,” he said.

I frowned, not sure I understood. “What will the fights do?” I asked.

“It’s like you said, big-money bets, big earnings. It’s the easiest way to clear the debt.”

My stomach dropped to the floor and I got dizzy with disbelief. “No,” I said, shaking my head emphatically.

His expression dropped, now both angry and incredulous. “You don’t think I’m capable?”

“No! I think—Wait, you?” I asked, my body frozen, my mind racing to catch up.

A deep frown split his face, drawing his dark brows low. “Yes. Me. Who else?” he asked.

I looked away, but Ioan came back to sit in the chair he had vacated, his body filling the corner of my vision. And even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel his gaze on me, searing, demanding I look at him.

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