Chapter 11
Alexi storms down the hallway, his fists clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing, at his sides. Unseeing and uncaring, he walks into his office and sits down at the desk.
But he can’t sit still. He can’t get the image of her out of his mind. He can’t forget the way she said his name. The first time had been bad enough. Hearing her accidentally use his name had been the first step in unraveling the careful distance he’d kept from her.
Then hearing her sigh his name like a prayer while lost to her passion? That had nearly broken him. He’d had to shove her away and leave or risk losing himself in her.
Fuck! What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking—at least not with his brain. And that was the problem. He’d let lust and desire override any good sense. When he’d first rescued Ulayna, he’d promised her that she’d never be subject to the lustful advances of a man again. And now, he’d touched her. Tasted her.
Yes, she’d dropped that fucking towel and demanded he look at her. But that didn’t give him the right to put his hands on her. At that moment, she might have thought she wanted it, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t regret it.
He knows that consent can be a murky concept when power dynamics are in play.
He wants her, there’s no doubt about that now.
But he absolutely refuses to touch her again until he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it’s what she wants, too.
He needs her reassurance that she isn’t offering herself out of pressure or obligation.
Unfortunately, they need to have a fucking conversation. They need to talk about boundaries and consequences. They need to talk about what she wants—not to please anyone else, but what she wants for herself.
And if she admits that she doesn’t really want him, then he’ll find a way to shove this desire down so deep that it never surfaces again.
It might just kill him, but he’ll figure it out.
Since she came into his life, he’s had nothing but the lonely feeling of his own hand and hundreds of cold showers.
He doubts that will change anytime soon.
He should never have touched her. He knows that. He’s too old for her. She’s nineteen, and he’s thirty-eight. Twice her age, for fuck’s sake.
I’ll be twenty next week. The phantom of her voice drifts through his mind.
He scoffs. Like one year makes a difference. He’s just trying to justify his inappropriate lust.
Anger at himself boils over. He’s overwhelmed by a hopeless sort of rage. He’s too old for her, and his world is too dark for her. She deserves a life of sunshine and happiness.
But what’s the alternative? Images of her with someone else drift through his head.
In his mind, the perfect guy for Ulayna would be some young guy.
Maybe a college student studying business.
He’d be caring and thoughtful. They’d go on dates to the movies, and he’d bring her to his family’s home for the holidays.
Eventually, they’d get married, move into a house in the suburbs, and have kids.
Maybe adopt a dog. That’s what Ulayna deserves.
With a roar, Alexi swipes the papers off his desk and stands.
His chest is heaving, and his fists are clenched.
He can’t stand the idea of her with another man.
He needs to hit something. He needs to get this insidious rage out of his system before he sees her again.
Otherwise, he’s not sure he’ll be able to have that conversation with her.
He’s not sure he’ll be able to keep from touching her again.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sends a quick message to Ruger, telling him to meet him in the training ring immediately. There’s only one way to work off the helpless fury coursing through his blood—brutality. And there’s no one more brutal in a fight than Ruger.
—
Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Ruger sighs and hands a twenty-dollar bill to Hawk, who’s smirking at him.
“Told you he’d demand a fight session,” Hawk says, gleefully stuffing the cash in his own pocket. He looks at his watch. “But he did hold out longer than I expected.”
Ruger shakes his head and pushes to his feet. He picks the TV remote up from the coffee table and hits the power button.
The TV goes dark, and Hawk complains, “Hey, I was watching that game.”
“You’re coming too,” Ruger says. “If Alexi is in the type of mood we think he’s in, then I’ll need someone to carry my sorry ass back here when we’re done.”
Hawk grins at him, delighted at the prospect. “Well, in that case.” He pushes himself up off the couch and claps Ruger on the back. “I'd rather watch the boss beat you to a bloody pulp than the soccer game.”
“I’m coming too!” Phoenix shouts from the kitchen.
Not waiting for them, Ruger heads for the door.
As he walks down the path toward the training grounds, he rolls his shoulders to loosen his muscles.
He tips his head, pressing his ear to his shoulder to stretch his neck, and something cracks.
He’s getting too old for this shit. A grin splits his face.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love it.
A few minutes later, he walks to the center of the training area. Alexi is already there, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
Ruger heads to one of the storage bins where they keep supplies and pulls out two rolls of tape.
“Here,” he says, tossing a roll to Alexi.
Without a word, Alexi catches the tape. They both begin the ritualistic motions of wrapping their hands.
Once they’re done, Ruger tosses the tape back into the storage bin and walks to the center of the open space with Alexi.
“Do you want to go for time or for first blood?” he asks Alexi casually.
Alexi shakes his head. “Until submission.”
Ruger cocks an eyebrow at him. Alexi must have some serious shit to work through today. He knows that they’re pretty evenly matched in a fight, but when riled, Alexi can be a mean son of a bitch.
“Until submission,” Ruger agrees. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees more money exchanging hands between Phoenix, Hawk, and the rest of his team, who have all shown up to watch. He wonders who is betting on whom and what his odds are.
For a few minutes, they circle each other.
Ruger smiles at Alexi, testing the waters to see if this will be a friendly fight to blow off some steam or if Alexi is out for blood.
When Alexi’s expression remains cold and detached, Ruger has his answer.
The only remaining question is whether Alexi is out for Ruger’s blood or his own.
More than most, Ruger understands that sometimes the best way to work through something is to see your own blood splatter across an opponent's knuckles. Masochistic, maybe. But still true.
“Something on your mind, boss?” Ruguer taunts.
“She could have been hurt,” Alexi seethes.
Ruger shrugs, uncaring in the face of his boss’s rage.
He knows Alexi isn’t really mad about them training Ulayna.
They already worked through that shit after she put him on his ass and stormed off in a huff.
It had taken him a while to come around, but the team had convinced Alexi that she needed the training.
Ruger knows that what’s really got Alexi worked up is confronting her about it. Alexi had been insistent on talking with her and apologizing for his reaction this morning.
And if he knows the little gremlin like he thinks he does, Ruger can only imagine that the apology didn't go as well as Alexi had thought it would.
But if Alexi wants to use their training of Ulayna as an excuse, then that’s fine with him. He’ll take the bait. Grinning at Alexi, he says, “She wanted to learn how to protect herself, and we thought we’d give her the skills to take down her enemies.”
“She deserves better than this life!”
“And what kind of life would that be? Huh, boss? Who would you have her become? A soccer mom, carting kids around in a minivan and attending PTA meetings?”
Ruger sees the impact of his words land like physical blows as Alexi flinches. Apparently, he hit the nail on the head with that guess.
“You know she’ll never have that life, right?” Ruger asks. “She’s seen too much of the underbelly of the world. She can’t just forget that and go lead a normal life.”
“But that’s what she deserves!” Alexi rages, spittle flying from his mouth in his anger.
Ruger’s voice drops low. “But is that what she wants? Have you ever bothered to ask her what she truly wants? Because you and I both know it’s not that idyllic life you’re so intent on forcing her into.”
“Fuck you!” Alexi screams and launches himself at Ruger.
Now we’re getting somewhere. The thought is dim in the back of his mind as Ruger meets Alexi’s brutal attack blow for blow.
The fight is long and vicious, with both men tearing at each other, landing solid blows, and refusing to back down.
As the fight drags on, more money is exchanged between the rest of the team as bets are won and lost.
Finally, Ruger lands a fierce right hook to Alexi’s jaw. He watches as his friend’s head snaps back, and he goes down hard.
Ruger is there in a second, pinning Alexi to the ground with his knee, fist raised. “Submit, dammit,” he grinds out.
Alexi turns his head to the side and spits blood. But then he smiles, and the tension leaches out of him. He nods once, submitting and conceding the fight to Ruger.
Ruger rises to his feet and extends a hand to help Alexi up. Once they’re both on their feet, Ruger rubs his jaw. “Fuck, boss. Next time you need to work through something, call Bill. I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Alexi snorts. “We’re the same age.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Ruger deadpans.
“Woo-hoo!” Phoenix shouts, jogging over to join them. Her eyes sparkle with mischief and excitement. “I just love watching you two beat the shit out of each other. Really gets a girl’s blood pumping, you know?”
She smacks Ruger on the back in congratulations, and he can’t help his slight grimace of pain. Phoenix laughs.
“Come on, you two,” she tells them. “The beer and ice packs are back at the bunkhouse.”
Limping a little and panting hard, Ruger and Alexi follow the rest of the team.
Ruger knows he’ll have a black eye come morning, and his ribs are aching something fierce, but it was worth it to see the tension drain out of Alexi.
He’s known Alexi since they were both training in the Russian special forces units, and they’ve beaten each other bloody on more occasions than he can count.
Through thick and thin, they’ve always been there for each other.
And Ruger is positive this won’t be the last time one of them needs the cathartic release of getting his ass kicked.