Page 21

21

ROMAN

“ B it early for the boxing ring, isn’t it?” Dimitry smacks one glove into the other and dances in front of me. “Not that I’m complaining. I’ve been looking for a good reason to knock you out for at least a week.”

“You can fucking try.” I need this more than I need to stare at figures on a goddamn computer screen for one more minute. Putting a ring in at the Mercura bunker was a smart move. You never know when you’re going to need to clear your head. And nothing clears mine like knocking the hell out of someone else’s.

After waking to discover Miss Lopez had done an early morning runner, I have a burning desire to hit something. I’m not sure whether I’m pissed off that she left without asking or if I’m pissed off that I care.

Either way, I’m going to take a certain satisfaction from knocking Dimitry onto his ass. Fucker deserves it. For looking at Lucia. For the way he’s looking at me now.

Thwack.

I get the first in, a bracing uppercut on his right jaw. Dimitry bounces back from it, still grinning. Prick. He’s always grinned when people hit him, even as a ten-year-old.

“That the best you got?” He dances around me. “You’re getting soft, old man.” He bounces off the ropes then comes back in for more.

“Fuck you.” I duck beneath the fist aimed straight for my face. “And you can talk.” I land another one in his ribs. “How much did you drink last night, anyway? I can still smell it on your breath.”

“None of your”—he lands a particularly sharp one in my gut—“fucking business.”

I swing around and give his ribs a solid few strikes. “Sloppy. Same as your women.” I get another one in. “Who was it last night? Some cheap bit from Pillars?”

His right hook comes too fast for me to duck. He follows it up with a couple more for good measure, snapping my head sideways enough to actually hurt. I grin through the blood from my cut lip. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

I manage to dodge the next one and catch him with an uppercut of my own. Dimitry’s expression is rather grimmer than usual. I punch him again anyway. Unfortunately, it takes a lot more than a few fists to put Dimitry down.

“You can talk.” He slams a fist into my gut. “You’re the one playing happy families with the nanny.”

I catch him a glancing blow on the shoulder that throws him off-balance. “She’s there for the kids, asshole.”

“Sure.” Dimitry ducks away from my fists and lies back against the ropes, giving me that shit-eating grin again. “She’s got hella salsa moves for a nanny.”

“Mother fu—” I go in hard, landing them everywhere the fucker has left himself open, until he’s bleeding at the eyebrow and one eye looks set to be closed for a while.

Prick still doesn’t go down.

“Looks like I’ve hit a soft spot.” He spits blood onto the ring, still fucking grinning. “Or is that a hard spot?” He ducks and weaves, staying well out of range.

Smart.

I’m starting to get seriously pissed off.

“What the fuck’s into you?” I land one on his shoulder, but it’s not enough to slow him down. “Too drunk to get it up last night?”

His grin fades. “Fuck you.” He throws a punch hard enough to leave a proper bruise on my ribs.

I spin away from his next one. “Looks like it’s you who’s got the soft spot.” I bounce off the ropes and cross the ring, grinning as I wipe the blood from my face. “Let me guess. The other waitress. Annie? Abby?”

“Keep that fucking name out of your mouth,” he snarls. He comes in hot, landing a series of blows to my gut that knock the breath out of me and almost put me on my ass.

Almost.

I take a breather on the ropes and eye him up. Dimitry is grinning again, little prick. “Even hungover, I can still take you.” He cocks an eyebrow at me from a safe distance. “Especially now the nanny’s got you whipped.”

I growl and charge in, pummeling his ribs.

“Tell me,” he grunts between blows. “What comes after that bullshit nanny contract? Marriage certificate and a baby shower?”

I roar and smash my fist into his face, and then we’re in it, locked together as we grapple for ascendancy. “There’s nothing there,” I snarl, getting in a double jab that fucks his nose right up. “You’re right off base, brother.”

“Talking of bases.” Blood is streaming from Dimitry’s nose, but the fucker’s grin is bigger than ever. “Did she scream when you hit the home run, brother ? It’s always the quiet ones who—”

Oh, no you fucking didn’t.

That’s it.

I unleash the fury that made me a legend on the Miami streets a long time ago and that still lives in me when it fucking counts. I let him have everything I’ve got—in the ribs, the face, anywhere I can reach, landing every blow with gunshot precision.

Finally, Dimitry hits the mat like the great hunk of meat he is.

Bastard is still smiling.

“Stay down, asshole,” I snarl.

He lies flat on his back, wiping blood from his face, still grinning. “Oh, I was planning to. And there’s the added bonus of scaring the shit out of the geek squad, of course.” He tilts his chin toward the ropes.

Clearly word of our bout must have gone around, because the room is full of every tech head in the building, all staring at us with an almost comical look of horror and awe. My own men are grinning ear to ear. They’ve all tested themselves against Dimitry before. None of them ever got up off the mat.

“They’ll be talking about that one for a while,” Dimitry says, wincing as he stretches his arms over his head. “Not a bad thing, them seeing you knock me down. They’ll remember that if ever they get the urge to betray you.”

I grunt in response, but he’s right. Every now and then it’s good to remind them of why I’m pakhan . Nice suits and slick cars can give people the wrong impression. Sometimes they need to remember how all of that was won—and fists is what it all comes down to. Who has the balls for the fight, when it counts. Who is prepared to face death and fight their fucking way out of it.

I might have put Dimitry on his ass, but I’ve always known he’s the one I want by my side when death comes for me. Mikhail was my brother, and I loved him. But Dimitry is my blood. He’s the one who lay curled beside me on the nights when we had only concrete for a bed and only our fists to protect us. I’ve watched Dimitry face down men three times his size before he was even in his teens, all with that shit-eating grin, like he was daring them to hurt him. And I’ve watched him get up from punches that would have killed a kid twice his size.

I could have left him behind when Yuri took me off the streets.

Instead I refused to go anywhere without him.

Dimitry and I are a package deal.

I’d have stayed in Miami if it meant keeping Dimitry safe. And he knows that, just like I know he’d die before he let anyone harm what’s mine.

“What did get into you?” I cast him a curious glance as I pull him to his feet. “Haven’t seen you hit like that in a while.”

“Nothing important.” His face shuts down in a way that tells me he isn’t ready to talk about whatever it is.

I shrug and let it go, heading for the showers. You can’t push Dimitry, and fuck knows, I don’t like it when he pushes me.

I especially didn’t like him talking about marriage.

Or babies.

It’s uncomfortably fucking close to my own recent thoughts, and that is not a road I want to go down any more than my overactive imagination already takes me there.

Which reminds me of my resolution to spend more time at home. A glance at my phone says I can still make it in time for lunch, if I hurry.

To my own surprise, I’m actually looking forward to it. My shower will have to wait.

That thought leads immediately to more treacherous ones, of Lucia naked in my shower, her legs wrapped around me while I fuck her senseless. No amount of time under Dimitry’s fists is going to drive away the memory of her luscious lips wrapped around my dick last night, the sweet heat of her whispered words in my ear.

For fuck’s sake.

I need to get my feelings for that little vedma under control, before I find myself in serious trouble.