5. Reaper
Reaper
I go through the normal pat down by one of Nikita Petrov’s goons whenever I’m at his fight club.
The underground fight is happening in an abandoned warehouse on the seedier side of Oakland.
They operate a number of these underground fights in different places throughout California, but this is the only one I fight in. It draws better talent.
I’m a Sinner. I’m the enemy. But when it comes to money none of that matters to the Bratva. The Petrovs can’t stand me or my brothers, but they allow me to fight because I bring in a crowd. And the bigger the crowd, the more money they make.
I’ve never lost a fight, and I don’t plan to. However, I don’t do it for the cut of the money I receive for winning even though it’s always a huge purse. I do it for me. I fight for my sanity.
“You’re good,” the goon says, with just a hint of a Russian accent. “Go on through, Sinner.”
I zip my gym bag, toss it over my shoulder, and walk inside, ignoring the glares from other Bratva members and stares from people who know I’m a Sinner and that I’m not supposed to be here.
It’s the same song and dance every time I come.
It’s expected. I proudly wear my cut whenever I show up to fight so there’s no mistaking who I am and as a message if you fuck with me then you fuck with the Sinners.
The crowd’s already gathering and every night I fight it seems to grow by the hundreds.
Of course, all this is illegal. From the amount of people inside this building, the alcohol being served without a liquor license, to the illegal Cuban cigars being given out.
But none of it matters to the numerous politicians, celebrities, and even some law enforcement who show up once a month to these fights.
They crave the blood and the madness. And I’m no different from them. I crave it too.
I shove my way through the people milling around dressed like they’re at some fancy dinner party, not a fight. I head to the locker room near the back of the building down a narrow hallway not too far from where the cage sits.
The sound of heels clicking against the stained concrete floor of the corridor draws my attention. When I shift my gaze to the approaching footsteps, I come face to face with Nikita Petrov, the Pakhan’s eldest son and the one slated to take over his father’s empire.
Although he’s the closest to me, my attention isn’t on him. It’s on the woman walking slightly behind him who looks like she’d rather be any other place but here.
She’s trying to shield herself using a long over-the-top, black mink coat, and heavy amounts of makeup. But hiding from any motherfucker in here is going to be hard to do when she’s so fucking beautiful. So out of place in this environment.
So out of place in this world.
Usually, I keep my head down, do what I got to do, then leave. It’s not like I can’t handle my own against any of these motherfuckers, but I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m here to get my frustrations and pent-up anger out then go home. Alone.
I should keep walking. Just ignore them as I pass, but the sadness in her eyes pulls me in. I haven’t experienced this kind of draw to a woman since I buried the love of my life.
“If it isn’t, the Sinner,” Nikita sneers as I try to walk by.
He pulls her closer to his body when he stops in front of me.
When I stop, my eyes automatically gravitate to her again. If looks could kill, Nikita would be dead. She doesn’t look happy to be in his embrace. As a matter of fact, the sadness in her eyes is gone. All I see is disgust. She hates him. But if that’s the case, why is she with him?
I’m more intrigued with her reaction than I should be.
When he realizes I’m looking at her instead of him, his head snaps to her and she quickly drops her eyes to the floor. His grip on her tightens causing her to wince. I clench my fists to keep from punching him in the goddamn face. That wouldn’t be in her best interest or mine, so I let it go.
I drag my eyes from her to focus on the next Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva. One of the largest Bratva family on the west coast.
“Nikita.”
Ass wipe .
His jaw clenches. Nikita Petrov is only a few years older than me, and one thing I’ve learned about him over the years is that he’s doesn’t like people not giving him the so-called respect he thinks he deserves. He doesn’t deserve shit especially from me, a Sinner.
Just by the anger marring his face I’ve successfully pissed him off.
Good. He probably believes I should refer to him as Mr. Petrov, bow, kiss that gaudy ass lion’s head ring he wears, and all that shit.
He’s lucky I’m even saying shit to him at all.
He’s a nobody in my book. A motherfucker who has power because of his bloodline, not because of anything he’s done to earn it.
As Sinners, we’ve worked hard for everything we have. Nothing is ever handed to us, including the power we have in California. Unlike this motherfucker whose daddy has given him everything from his power, money, to the women he parades around on his arm.
How the hell did she end up with a bastard like him?
“Make sure you keep your fucking eyes to yourself, Sinner. That can be very dangerous for you.”
I push down the urge to grab him by his throat and watch the light leave his eyes for the threat. My eyes flick back to his woman, then I lick my lips. I have no shame in perusing her body to aggravate him since I can’t kill him.
Her dark brown hair falls in large waves just past her shoulders and the sequin dress she wears fits her glorious body like a glove accentuating wide hips, long ebony legs, and nice sized breasts. She looks like she should be gracing the cover of a magazine, not this shithole with this asshole.
I’m sure this entire outfit is his choice not hers. He seems like a prick who forces a woman to wear what he wants. She also looks uncomfortable.
After I finish shamelessly eyeing her, my attention moves back to Nikita. I tilt my head, lick my lips for added effect before my mouth lifts at the corner.
“Aww, but I love what I see Nikki. Make sure you keep her close or she might end up in my bed tonight.”
Her light gasp reaches my ears.
“Fuck you, motherfucker! I’ll kill you!”
One of his men steps in between us which is not a surprise. It’s not like the limp dick motherfucker is going to do anything, anyway.
“You’ve already tried that, remember. When you see Aleksi make sure you tell him I said fuck you.”
Aleksi will never be found. Snake tossed his body in a vat of acid. There’s nothing left.
I chuckle, pushing pass Nikita and his men, making my way to the locker room and ignoring his threats before things escalate.
However, before I reach the double doors of the locker room, his curses echo off the white cinderblock walls of the hallway.
He’s blaming her for drawing my attention like he didn’t make her wear that outfit.
That’s how Nikita is with the people in his circle.
He says and they do. I doubt it’s any different for her.
He forces her toward one of the empty rooms not too far from the locker room, but closer to the cage.
She’s beautiful although her smooth, dark skin is covered in makeup barely hiding the darkening bruise at the corner of her left eye.
The red lipstick covering her plump limps only adds to her ethereal beauty despite the discoloration from his abuse.
No wonder she’s sad. Abusive prick.
“Not your problem, Reaper. You’re here to fight.”
I remind myself where I am and who I am. I shake my head, pushing away the sympathy building inside me for this mysterious woman who’s stirring emotions inside of me that have been dormant for a long time.
“She’s trouble,” I remind myself.
Anybody connected to the Petrovs is nothing but trouble. She’s someone I don’t need to focus my energy on. Yet, she’s captured my attention, and I can’t help but to get one last glimpse of her. So, I look over my shoulder, and our eyes meet again. Hers are dark and intense.
She steals a peek at Nikita, his voice booming as he reprimands his men, before turning her attention back to me. She shifts from one foot to the other, then dropping her focus to the floor, avoiding eye contact with me.
There’s something in her eyes that puts me on edge. Is it because she’s in trouble? Does she even need help or am I overreacting?
As Nikita’s men rush away, he pushes her hard in the back.
She loses her balance as she stumbles inside the room.
Before he enters his eyes turn to me one more time, and just to piss him off even more, I wink before disappearing inside the locker room to get ready for my fight.
I only have thirty minutes before I need to be in the cage.
Pissing Petrov off is fun, but it’s not why I’m here.
I’m here to silence the noise inside my head. I’m here to silence my demons.