Drago's Woman Read online

  Her fantasy was short-lived.

  The car jolted to a stop, forcing her into the waking world. She licked her cracked lips, every inch of her body screaming at her. At least one rib was broken, probably worse by the amount of pain she was in. The last thing she remembered was the bright lights in the ring blinding her, but now it was all darkness. Had she died and gone to hell? It was as much as she deserved.

  A man opened the rear passenger door and reached for her, but she shoved his hands away. “Don’t touch me!”

  “Awake, I see.” It was Drago’s friend. Everything came back in a rush, and her world halted to a stop.

  “Take me back. You had no right to interfere with my fight,” she said. Now that she was fully conscious, she had to deal with her cold, hard reality. She’d worked her ass off to win her last nine fights. Only one more and this nightmare would be over with and she could get her baby back.

  Carlos braced his forearm on the roof of the car, leaning partially inside. She could make out the goofy grin on his face, even in the shadows, and she wanted to wipe it off.

  “You must have a selective memory. From what I saw, the fight was over before it began.”

  She glared at him, adjusting up into a seated position. Pain sluiced through her body, stealing her breath. She stifled a gasp, taught never to show her weaknesses. “You don’t know anything.” She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheeks, the metallic taste one of her constant companions lately.

  “If you’re worried about your daughter, don’t be. Drago said he’d get her back.”

  She scoffed. “If it were that easy, I’d have gotten her myself. You have no clue what you’ve done, what you’ve cost me.”

  “Hey, Drago saved your life. You were down for the count, sugar.”

  “I was just taking a breather.” He was right, of course. Deadman was three times her size, and they never should have been matched. It only meant one thing—they wanted her to die in the ring. All her training and sacrifices to get Ava back had been for nothing. Her father never planned on returning her daughter. No matter how hard she tried to please her parents, it would never be enough.

  “Sure,” he said. “Come on, you need to see the doctor.”

  Belle glanced out the windows. Darkness shrouded the lonely back alley. A hooker leaned against a lamppost at the corner, and a stray dog rooted in a torn garbage bag beside a metal dumpster. They were in another slum, so he must have taken her to one of the underground doctors who worked off the books. It was the lifestyle she was accustomed to.

  She couldn’t take a deep breath, and she could scarcely see out of her good eye. In all the years she’d been fighting, she’d never been hurt this bad. She wasn’t sure if she was more shocked, scared, or embarrassed. All she knew was she’d get through this. If nothing else, Belle was a survivor.

  “I don’t need a doctor.” Belle didn’t care about herself, never really had. This was about Ava now, ensuring she had a better life, one far away from the fighting circuit.

  “Drago’s orders. The faster we deal with this shit, the faster I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Drago doesn’t call the shots,” she said. “Not for me. All he’s done is fuck me over.” She wiggled her way out of the car with as much dignity as possible. Her wrists were still wrapped, her knuckles crusted with blood.

  “The fight was a death sentence. If you haven’t figured that out yet, then you’re in the right profession.” He winked.

  Belle wanted to punch him in the mouth, and if she wasn’t so critically injured, she’d be able to take him. As it was, every cell in her body cried out for mercy, and she hated this new vulnerability. She gritted her teeth as she put weight on her feet and attempted to stand up straight. No way would she show this asshole her weaknesses.

  The distant streetlight reflected her image off a broken glass window. It took her a minute to realize it was her looking back. Her body was bloody and bruised, her eyes and face swollen to the point she was almost unrecognizable.

  What would have happened if Drago hadn’t shown up?

  At first all she’d thought about was Ava and winning the match. But it was a losing battle. Stopping the fight had saved her life, given her another chance to get her daughter back. She started to worry about Drago. Deadman and Ben were ruthless. Then she thought better—Drago had a reputation for a reason. And she was thankful he’d thrown some mercy her way because he’d always been a cold-hearted bastard.

  Belle wasn’t so naïve though. Trust was for fools, so Drago had to expect something in return. Too bad for him she was no whore. No matter how attracted she may be to the older man, she’d never sell her body.

  Carlos opened a metal door for her a couple buildings down, so she cautiously stepped inside. Her body wobbled for a moment until she got her bearings. When Carlos reached out a hand to help her, she refused it, bracing against the wall instead.

  “It’s okay to accept help,” said Carlos.

  She kept walking down the dimly lit hallway. A florescent light flickered above. When her own family was out to destroy her, it didn’t leave much room to trust others. Belle didn’t need anyone but herself and her daughter. She’d had plans before they took her baby, plans she still dreamed about every night.

  The doctor’s exam room was on par with what she’d become accustomed to over the years, and far from sterile. The only time she’d seen the white walls inside a real hospital was when Ava was born. Injuries in the ring had to be dealt with in shitholes like this. The organizers didn’t want any heat that threatened their operations.

  “What do you have for me today?” The doctor hadn’t looked her in the eye, busy clearing the junk off the examining table.

  “She’s hurt pretty bad. Drago said he’s taking personal responsibility for her, so anything she needs, make it happen.”

  The doctor glanced at Carlos and nodded. “Haven’t seen him in a long while.”

  “He’s retired. Well, he was before tonight,” said Carlos.

  She used the stepstool and sat on the table when directed. “Where’s it hurt?” asked the doctor, shining a light over her face.

  “Everywhere.”

  “This needs to come off,” he said, motioning to her shirt.

  “Fine,” she said. “Once he gets out.”

  Carlos held up his hands in surrender and closed the door once he returned to the hallway.

  The doctor tilted her chin up, assessing her in silence. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a pretty girl. I hope you realize there’s no future in this sport.”

  Belle tugged off her shirt, freezing for a moment as the crippling pain paralyzed her. “You don’t have to preach to me, doc. I’ve been in this so-called sport since I could walk, and I guarantee you I want no part of it.”

  “Then why? You into drugs?” The doctor examined her ribs, making her cringe each time he poked her with his fingers.

  “No drugs,” she said. “It’s complicated.”

  “Lie back.” He wheeled over a portable ultrasound machine. She slipped out of reality, back down the rabbit’s hole. When she’d become pregnant, she’d gone through the gamut of emotions. Ava’s father had disappeared upon hearing the news, and her world crumbled apart, depression setting in as she contemplated life as a single mother.

  It was the first ultrasound that changed everything.

  Seeing that little life on the screen gave her purpose and renewed optimism. It was no longer about her and her grief. It was about the innocent life growing inside her. That’s when she knew she had to get out.

  “You’re lucky. Next time may not be so forgiving,” said the doctor. “Be smart and get out while you can.”

  The exam was over, and she hadn’t even been paying attention, lost in her own memories. If only the doctor knew how entangled she was in the world of fighting. If only he could save her—but nobody could. No fights, no baby. Now that the tenth
fight had been forfeited, she wasn’t sure what that meant for their agreement, not that she had much faith they’d follow through on their promises.

  ****

  Ben’s entourage carried him away from the ring. Drago followed.

  He shook out his hand a few times. It had been a while since he’d thrown a punch, but it felt good, especially when Deadman deserved to be taken down.

  Once they’d distanced from the crowd, they brought Ben into one of the offices off the hallway, laying him on the sofa. Drago stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. This wasn’t how he’d expected his night to go. He’d heard Belle was fighting, and he couldn’t stay away. He’d hoped the rumors were wrong. Drago was going to stick around for her fight and then hit the bar. Now he was in over his head. “All of you, take a walk. I need to talk with Ben alone.”

  The little shit leaned up on one elbow, gingerly touching his face with his free hand. “You hit me?”

  “Head butt.” The last man left the room, leaving them alone. Even after retirement, his reputation stuck. He rarely had to remind anyone to listen when he spoke. Drago closed the door and dropped the blinds.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done. Randal Aiello owns this city. You’ve just fucked over the biggest fight of the year, and one with his daughter no less.”

  “That fight was a death match. What kind of father sells his daughter for a quick buck?”

  “She knew what she was getting into. Belle signed an agreement. It’s not like I put a fucking gun to her head.” Ben sat up, still rubbing his forehead.

  “You stole her kid, so yeah, I’d say that’s the same fucking thing.” He unfolded his arms and walked into the room, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa. “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play smart with me, I’m not in the mood. Tell me where they’re keeping her kid,” he said. “And you better hope to God Belle’s okay.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That bitch probably sold her kid for drugs.”

  Drago clenched his jaw hard, his muscles going stiff. His days in the circuit came rushing back—the fighting, the blood, the death matches. Right now, the ruthless man he’d put to rest when he retired fought to be unleashed. He wanted to kill this little fucker, make him pay for screwing over Belle. Of all people, she didn’t deserve this.

  “Watch your damn mouth. You don’t get to talk shit about her. Understand?” He wanted to punctuate his sentence by ramming his fist into Ben’s face, but he had to tread carefully. Until he had Belle’s kid, he needed to rein in his beast.

  “I swear I don’t know where they’re keeping her kid. I don’t get paid enough for that kind of shit.”

  “If I find out you’re lying, I’ll find you and fuck you so bad, you’ll wish you were in that ring with Deadman. You know what I’m capable of, no?”

  “I swear on my life!”

  His cellphone went off. He strode to the other side of the room and turned his back.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Carlos. We’re done with the doctor.”

  “And?”

  “She’ll live. Nothing too serious,” said Carlos. “I’ll tell you one thing. She’s pissed off.”

  Drago exhaled, not realizing how much he’d been worried about getting bad news about her injuries. Not realizing how much the little fighter meant to him. “Good. Bring her to my condo. I’ll be there within the hour.”

  “Will do.” The line went dead.

  He put his phone back in his pocket. When he turned around, the little fucker was rushing out the door. He didn’t bother chasing him down. He was another errand boy. There were ways to get real answers, and he wouldn’t stop hunting until he got Belle’s kid back. He’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

  The drive back to his home in the city gave him time to reflect. He should have made a move years ago. He should have asked her out, told her how he felt—something. But he’d been over ten years older, and she was a young thing with the whole world ahead of her. He’d kept his distance for her benefit, but now she was back with a kid in tow. Drago had wanted to be the man to give her a baby, the one to take her innocence. It pissed him off that she’d been taken for a ride. Anger, jealousy, and regret fueled him as he drove the dark, lonely streets.

  He’d thought a lot about the cute little blonde with the fighting spirit since retiring. He’d stayed in the game a few years longer than he intended just to be near her. She had skills, but there was more than that. Belle had a quiet spirit, one that didn’t belong in the ring. He could never quite put his finger on it, but the story was starting to unravel. Apparently, her father, one of the biggest players in the underground circuit, was only a father for show. The bastard sold her out for a padded wallet.

  Drago scanned his fob to gain entry to the indoor parking lot, then rode up the elevator to his floor. This would be the first time he wasn’t returning to an empty condo. The silence had been getting to him lately. At his age, he should have settled down, but part of him had been holding back because of her. No woman could compare in his eyes.

  Before he reached his unit, he could hear Belle shouting. She’d always been feisty, but he’d been hoping for her to be grateful, not angry. He opened the door to find her standing off with Carlos in the foyer.

  “Let me out of here! You can’t keep me prisoner.” She lunged forward, trying to strike his friend. Drago couldn’t help but laugh.

  When she shifted her focus to him, she had fire in her eyes.

  “Take it easy,” he said.

  “No, I won’t take it easy. Neither of you have any right to interfere with my life or my fights.”

  “You needed help.”

  “Wrong! I don’t need saving. All I need are these.” She held up her fists. Her knuckles were torn and covered with old blood. Despite her bravado, he could see her eyes glisten.

  “I promise I’ll make everything right,” Drago said.

  She shook her head, her eyes intense as a cobra’s. “You don’t know my father. There’s no way to fix this. Not anymore.”

  “So you’re giving up? You never used to be a quitter.”

  “Fuck you,” she said, attempting to bolt toward him. Carlos grabbed her around the waist to keep her back. She started to fight him off, but Drago didn’t want her to hurt herself more than she was. Even in her condition, she was making it difficult for Carlos to control her.

  “Let her go,” said Drago. His friend narrowed his eyes as if he’d heard wrong. “Do it.”

  As soon as she was free, she rushed forward, pulling back her arm to hit him. He towered over her, easily subduing her in his arms. She struggled like a madwoman, but he held her steady. “I’ll call you later,” said Drago. “Take off.”

  Carlos reluctantly left the condo, closing the door behind him. Once he was alone with Belle, he leaned down and whispered into the hair by her ear. “I don’t hit women. I sure as hell ain’t starting with you, baby girl.”

  “You’ve ruined everything for me!” she shouted. “I’ll never get my baby back.”

  “I saved you from getting killed. That was a death match, and you were already down for the count. Now calm the fuck down so we can talk about this.”

  She lifted her legs, trying to kick the wall, anything to get away. He wasn’t going to play games. They were going to do things his way now.

  It took a few more minutes of keeping her immobile before she calmed a degree. Before long, her volatility dissipated, and her body sank in his arms like a wilting flower.

  He could feel her silent sobs, a gut-wrenching sadness. Drago had never seen her cry. He spun her around and cupped her face in his hands. As soon as she blinked, the tears slid down her cheeks.

  “I can’t let them have her,” she whispered. Her lips were swollen. Even with all the blood and bruises, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “I’m going to do what I should have done a long time a
go, Belle. I’m going to take care of you. Make things right.”

  “How?” There was a pleading quality in her eyes, a fragile innocence under the tough exterior.

  “I’ve been in this world long before you. That’s all you need to know.” He ran a hand through her hair, unable to stop staring. How many years had he dreamed of having Belle in his arms? “We’re not doing anything while you’re in this shape. You need time to heal.” He reached down and lifted one of her wrists between them, slowly unravelling the white tape. The condo was impossibly quiet, as if they were in the vacuum of space. They both watched as he carefully worked the tape off.

  “I don’t care about me.”

  “Well, I do. I’m going to get you cleaned up, and then you can rest. It’s safe here.”

  Her breathing started to pick up again, and she took a step back. “No, I have to fix this now, have to find out if I can get a rematch.”

  He wasn’t going to humor her. She wasn’t thinking straight. “Against Deadman?”

  “Yes!” Her emotions were all over the damn place. One moment fuming, the next barely the shell of a woman.

  “I’ve had enough of you, little miss. I’d throw you over my shoulder, but I don’t want to hurt you more than you already are. For once in your life, let someone else help you. Let me help you.”

  “And what do you want in return, Drago? Nothing’s free.”

  That pissed him off.

  But she was right. He wanted something. Wanted everything. But he’d never demand payment.

  Chapter Three

  Drago didn’t deserve the way she was speaking to him. Belle knew that, but she was freaking terrified, not acting like she should. She gritted her teeth as she stared at him. The pain still rushed through her entire body, making her aware of her own failure. Ignoring pain was one of the reasons her father put her into the fights at such a young age. He noticed she didn’t think about it, ignored it, and kept on fighting through it.

  To make him proud, she’d allowed herself to be hurt time and time again, taking hit after hit until her opponent became weak. That’s when she’d strike.