Chapter 4
In front of her, skin glistened, and men grunted, as the sound of slapping flesh resonated, it made her heart skip a little, reminding her that she had been alone, willingly, for a long time. Deva had always liked the raw power of a man. Power, as long as it didn’t crush people beneath him. An impossible feat, she knew from experience. Men couldn’t be changed. Power corrupted, whatever the form. But it wouldn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize a little bit, memorize that muscled flesh and sweaty skin for when she was alone in her bed.
Deva dropped her bag near the counter, looking around the gym when someone called her name.
“Deva! You are Deva Landry, right?”
She smiled and turned to the bulky, red-headed man with a wealth of ginger beard, giving her a welcoming grin. “It’s me alright. And you are Rusty Spears I’m guessing?”
“Damn right. Welcome! I’m so happy you could make it. Are you settled? You’ve found a place?”
His hand engulfed her. “Yes, and not too far from here. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought a car after all.”
“Parking’s a pain, but public transportation is okay. Unless it’s late, I’ll pay for a cab to drive you home in that case.”
Deva smiled at the gruff, but chivalrous man. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, I insist. The neighborhood is safe, but I wouldn’t risk you. And I’m so happy you could come and work for me. I saw your credentials and couldn’t believe my luck.”
Deva almost blushed at the sincere compliment. “Well, you’re lucky I needed a change, Rusty.”
“Yeah, but I admire what you did. Taking care of our military, our heroes defending our land, you are one tough lady. We are all grateful.”
The praise surprised her and emotions clogged her throat, making it difficult to answer back. “The honor was all mine. But as I said, I needed a change.”
“First time in Chicago?”
Sticking close to the truth was the best course of action. “, no. I was born and raised here, well, close by here anyway. But when I chose physical therapy, work called in Texas. That was a position I couldn’t refuse, so I moved there ten years ago.”
Rusty nodded. “It takes a strong mind to see people suffering that much and still want to help. You won’t have the same type of challenge here. My fighters can be quite gruff at times. I hope you won’t be put off by them.”
Deva laughed and saw a few male heads turn in her direction. “Believe me, none of them would put me off. I’m from tougher, rougher stock than I appear.”
Rusty seemed to examine her as if to determine if she was bluffing or not. Deva suspected that she wasn’t the first female to work here, and there might be a few horrified ladies behind Rusty’s worried look. “If any of them behave inappropriately, you tell me, and I’ll smack some sense into them. They’ve been told to behave, but some may have to be reminded. Now, let me show you around and then, we’ll go see your treatment space, or whatever you call it.”
As men were working out around them, Rusty described his installations, office, and the various working spaces, each with different torture devices in them. He presented her with fighters and trainers. And in the middle, an impressive octagonal cage. She knew about MMA in ways she didn’t want to remember. As images flooded back, she was careful to keep them in check.
Her gaze wandered over the men training; she had carefully studied each of their files that Gabrielle had provided. Each of them fighters in their own right, but with links to the underworld in one way or another. Rusty’s gym acted as a neutral ground for all these men of different families and organization to meet and train. It amazed her.
Currently in the cage were two fighters. One of them she recognized from his file. Andrew Brannon. Dark red hair, he was tall with well-defined muscles. He was the rising star at the gym and preparing for an important fight in less than a month. Irish Mafia if she remembered correctly. A good-looking man, but her eyes were drawn to his opponent, no less small, but less bulky, and much darker. Not his skin but in the impressive ink etched all over his body. Tats were common both in the underworld and in the fighting community, but this man had markings all over his front and back, arms, and even his legs. The only reason for so many of them was if he was part of a gang or the mob. There, in front of her, stood Aleksei Voronov.
“I see you are admiring two of my best fighters. Andy, the ginger one, is in the last stage of his training and you will have him in treatment on a regular basis.”
“And the other?”
“Aleksei. He’s training here, but doesn’t have official fights scheduled so far.”
“Official fights?”
Rusty seemed to hesitate before finally changing the subject altogether. “All of my fighters can ask you for treatment. I know you have many specialties, but they can’t just decide to come to you and ask for only a massage. Either I tell you the kind of therapy they need, or you decided depending on the ache, pain, or injury. I trust your judgment and experience. I want them in top shape. They may appear as badasses, but outside of the cage, they tend to avoid being uncomfortable. That’s where you and I need to push them. Sometimes, an achy, untreated muscle can flip a match from winning to losing, if you get my drift.”
“Understood.”
And as she was about to follow Rusty on his tour, a buzzer sounded, indicating the end of the round. Both men in the cage stopped wrestling and started walking in circles, catching their breath. That was when Aleksei turned to her. It was like a blow to her gut. He stood tall, with muscles quivering, skin glistening with sweat, and black hair spiking on his head. It was the familiar silver eyes, that had a feral look to them, that almost made her flinch. His gaze stared straight at her as he moved, assessing her like she was potential prey. Behind the wired enclosure, he looked like a mean predator, one of those big cats she had seen in zoos, waiting for a single opening, a weakness, before leaping to taste blood.
She had seen her share of wild men, but this one was the very first that gripped her gut this way, making it impossible to move or look away. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to breathe slowly, and not look away first. But when Aleksei came to a standstill before her, his arm stretched on the fencing above his head in a powerful stance; Deva hoped she was far enough away for him not to notice the slight shiver that ran down her spine. He jerked the wire, and she jumped at the reverberating sound. Cursing under her breath, she saw him smile as the buzzer rang once more and he returned to his opponent.
“Deva?”
Rusty looked at her, a question in his eyes, but she forced herself to smile. “Lead on, Rusty. I can’t wait to get my hands on your men and make them suffer.”
And God forbid she wouldn’t spare that Voronov bastard if he ever tried to make her scared of him again. Mission or no mission, she wouldn’t be bullied.Never again!
