Yanna

I tried riding my bike to the restaurant, but the vibrations sent my shoulder into a spiral of unbearable pain the moment I turned it on. I needed convincing to get on the back of his after that though. A part of me didn’t think I’d like it and fought him, suggested calling a taxi, because I’ve always been my own woman and never someone who wants to hang on a man while he takes control. Letting him do it in the bedroom is one thing, and it still amazes me just how easily he’s gotten my surrender there, but out in the real world, I like to do my own thing on my own terms.

To say I enjoyed the ride is an understatement. I loved holding onto his waist, loved the wind in my hair and in my face, loved the freedom of it. When I ride my bike, I always feel like I’m soaring, free as a bird, high above everything, removed from all things. Letting him take the reins while having his hard body to lean on, to wrap my legs around and hold me steady, took it to new heights of carefree freedom that I could never achieve on my own. My only regret was that the ride didn’t take longer.

But we reached the crowded parking lot of the restaurant in what seemed like a flash. It looks like a cabin, or a chalet more like, and it’s the only structure for miles around, standing to the side of a country road on a hill overlooking Las Vegas. Rock music is blaring from inside, the smell of roasting meat is everywhere and the lights of the Strip are flickering in the distance, making it look more like a mirage than the real thing.

“Nice view, right?” he asks, taking my hand while I stare at the horizon.

“I wouldn’t mind riding on the back of your bike all the way up to the top of this hill,” I say and smile at him, since I was difficult about accepting the ride, but I was wrong to be, and I want him to know I’m sorry. “And the next one, and the one after that, for the whole night.”

His eyes are all soft again, reflecting the multicolored lights in the distance. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Then we share a moment of silence, because even the loud music and people talking fades into a hum, as we stare into each other’s eyes while holding hands. I never knew moments like this were possible, I thought they only happened in movies, an over-dramatization of something that never happens in real life. But her I am, getting suffocated, crushed by the feeling of belonging, of love and bliss and softness and joy erupting in my chest which he creates just by being here, just by holding my hand, just by looking into my eyes and seeing straight into my soul. I think I might be falling in love with him. I can’t be completely sure, because that’s another thing I’ve never done.

“But right now, I’m starving,” he says and kinda breaks the spell, but not completely, because this magic we share can never be broken completely. “And we’re late as it is.”

I feel like I’m floating on some very soft yet very firm cloud as he pulls me towards the door.

“So who are these friends of yours that we’re meeting?” I ask.

I’m not much for socializing, which he must know very well since I talk about it in my videos all the time. But somehow, that’s a very distant concern right now, because he’ll be right there with me, and how can anything not be just perfect with him next to me?

“One of my MC brothers and his girlfriend are in town, and I thought you should meet him,” he says and it sounds odd the way he put it.

“Why?” I ask skeptically, since I’m extremely wary of oddness by nature. It’s something I’ve been trying to shake for years, but it’s a remnant of my past, of the time I spent living alone on the streets of Moscow as a teen, and as much as I think I can trust Hawk, as much as I feel like I can and as much as I want to, I don’t, because I know trusting the wrong person can kill you. Or almost kill you, which can sometimes be even worse.

“Because he’s a six-year running MMA champion and I thought he could give you a few pointers,” he explains kinda sheepishly, his eyes unsure for the first time since I met him.

I stopped dead and so did he, and now I’m just looking at him, warmth welling up in my chest, and my eyes impossibly dry, but it’s guilt choking me. Two seconds ago, I was thinking about not trusting him, of needing to be wary of him, and here he is, organizing dinners to help my career. I’ve been very lucky in my life to have found so many people who wanted to help me along with no strings attached. And now I found someone who makes me feel better than having a family did. I need to stop doubting him, and I need to stop fighting it. I need to let it happen.

“Was I wrong to do that?” he asks. “You don’t have to talk about fighting with him, if you don’t want to.”

I use his arm to pull myself to him and kiss him deeply and passionately like I’ve never kissed anyone before, not even him. I can’t speak, can’t tell him how grateful I am, but I can show him.

“No, that’s perfect. Thank you,” I say once I finally let us get a breath of air, and he seems very confused by what just happened. Happy, but confused.

“Let’s go in,” I say and grab his hand again.

“Man, it’s hard to walk now,” he mumbles, adjusting his cock through his pants, but he manages well enough despite the hard-on I just gave him.

The restaurant is crowded, but it’s somehow not as loud inside as I expected it to be. Hawk leads us to a table in the back where a huge guy and a small blonde are sitting very close to each other, leaning into each other and talking like they’re alone, or like they don’t want to miss a single word the other is saying.

Hawk interrupts them to say hello and introduce me, and while I’m fairly certain Ice and Barbie would rather still be talking amongst themselves they both greet me pleasantly. She’s all smiles, and he’s looking at me with interest, but no smile. Somehow, I don’t think he smiles much.

We get to talking and ordering food, and while I thought I’d have to indulge in a total cheat day to eat here, they have more than one healthy-ish thing on the menu.

“So you’re thinking the cucumber soup, fish and a salad, right?” Hawk asks me and I look up at him sharply.

“How did you know?”

“It’s the kind of thing you usually order,” he says and shrugs.

“You picked this restaurant because it had healthy stuff on the menu, right?” I ask him.

“They also use all organic everything else, and apparently they get the fish fresh from the ocean every morning,” he says, grinning and looking very proud of himself. “I’ve noticed you’re partial to cucumbers and fish.”

“Yeah, Hawk notices just about everything,” Barbie chimes in. “I assume it must be even more pronounced when it comes to you, am I right?”

I’m blushing, I know I am, and I don’t quite know how to reply. I’m flattered he was this thoughtful, elated that she noticed it too, but damn embarrassed at the same time, because while I know how I feel about Hawk, and I know how good he makes me feel, it’s also all still very new.

“Yeah,” I say and return her smile, which is a total copout, but what else can I say?

Hawk is grinning at me like he heard what just flew through my thoughts, because Barbie’s not wrong about him, he does seem to notice everything, even things that no human should be able to see about another.

“Yanna is also a champion MMA fighter,” he announces. “So I figure her and Ice will have lots to talk about.”

Ice’s face tightens even more, though it was already plenty tight, and Barbie flashes him a concerned glance as she squeezes his hand. Maybe all that about Hawk knowing things about people is right, but he’s clearly not the best judge of who wants to talk about what and when. Ice would clearly rather not talk about his MMA past.

“Yeah?” Ice asks in a deep, kinda choked voice. “Do you compete much?”

“Compete much?” Hawk asks in an exaggeratedly shocked way. “She’s about to win the tournament of tournaments in a couple of weeks.”

I like that he thinks so, I like to be introduced that way, but I also don’t think Ice really wants to talk about this at all.

“I do alright,” I say. “And I do want to win, but I’m facing some very tough competition. I mean…I think I can win. If I stay focused, but, well, I do have some distractions now.” I squeeze Hawk’s hand to make it plain he’s what I mean, or maybe it’s for support, since I’m just rambling, but they’re all listening like I’m saying the most interesting thing, which I know I’m not.

A silence follows after I stop talking. It’s kinda tense and maybe I should fill it, but I have no idea what else to say.

“Focus and determination are important,” Ice finally says. “But I’d say your reason for wanting it is more important than those two things.”

His blue eyes turned very dark as he said it, and both Barbie and Hawk gave him a sharp look like they both know exactly what his reason is and it isn’t pretty.

“For me, it was staying alive to one day get revenge on the man who murdered my whole family and destroyed my life,” Ice adds. “And to get to that point I had to be the best. Plus beating guys up let me blow off some steam.”

Barbie is still looking at him with concern in his eyes, but she’s flashing annoyed glances at Hawk now too, who looks unsure for the second time tonight. But I understand what Ice is saying, I understand it perfectly, however brutal and sad it sounds.

“I have a strong reason for wanting to win too,” I tell him, since one honest truth deserves another. Although it was also a copout, because I can’t talk about Dima. Especially not now that the man who killed him is in town. Or can I? Maybe it’s time for Hawk to know the whole truth about it.

“I doubt it,” Ice says and smiles wryly and darkly, which earns Hawk another dark look from Barbie.

“The man who made me fall in love with the sport was murdered almost ten years ago,” I say. “He not only took me in when I had nowhere else to go, but he also taught me everything, and made me believe I could be the best of the best. That I could do something that matters. He’s my reason for winning this tournament, to show him I made it just in case he’s watching from somewhere.”

All three of them are looking at me very intently again, but I only see Hawk. I smile at him weakly, since I should’ve found a better way to tell him this.

“That’s a good reason. Use it,” Ice says in a harsh voice, breaking my urge to tell Hawk everything right here and now. It wouldn’t be a good idea. That must remain a secret. But he’s looking at me like he knows I’m keeping it, and he’s not best pleased about it.

“Given the nature of the sport, you should probably try to find the anger and hate in it,” Ice continues. “Love and fairness, that’s for yoga or something. Fighting is about pure aggression, the purer the better.”

I nod, and finally tear my gaze away from Hawk’s searching eyes. I have plenty of anger and aggression, but I also have lots of compassion, and I think sometimes that’s what’s holding me back, so his words make perfect sense.

“One more piece of practical advice and then I’ll shut up,” Ice adds. “Don’t go down. And if you have to go down, do it on your own terms, while you still have strength to get up again. Make your opponent think she got you before she does. Surprise her, is what I’m saying. It’s easier to knock them out if they didn’t see it coming.”

I’m nodding, because this makes sense too, but Hawk laughs. “Was that your tactic?”

Ice shrugs. “Every opponent is different and the fights I was in had no rules. But yeah, I think I surprised everyone more than once.”

A dark sort of joy is bubbling in his eyes and while I really want to know what kind of fights these were, I don’t think I should ask. I can already guess they were the underground, illegal kind where anything goes. I’ve been to a couple of those, but only as an audience member. Dima took me to a few in Moscow, and I checked out some in NYC, because as dirty and rule-less as they are, they’re also this sport at it’s purest.

So instead, I ask him other things, like for him to explain better what he means by not going down too soon. And then some other things, and yet others, things he knows because he’s won the fights at their purest and things I’ve only theorized on until now, but never could get any real answers, because I’ve never met anyone who truly knows them.

By the time we’re done with our dinner, I feel like I’ve just gone through a full day of training, and Ice doesn’t seem like he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. In fact, he looks relieved and happy that he got to. But by then, Barbie’s casting me glances that could be interpreted as jealousy or something along those lines. But then, during one of the longer lulls in our conversation, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans in real close.

“I’m so glad to hear you talk about it,” she whispers, and it was meant to be heard only by him, so I don’t let on that I heard it too. He smiles for the first time tonight and it makes him look years younger. Then they kiss, so deeply and passionately, it makes me yearn to share that same kind of love and passion with someone. And the best part is that I think I can.

Hawk’s thinking the same thing, I know it the moment our eyes meet, and the kiss he gives me proves it for the certainty that it is. It takes me a few moments to remember we’re not alone once our kiss is over, and it’s Ice and Barbie giving us that yearning look I must’ve been giving them when they started kissing.

Hawk rallies faster than me, mentioning that I’m a vlogger too, which apparently Barbie is very interested in becoming. They’re flashing the lights for last call by the time she finally stops asking me questions about it. I love talking about my online life, and it’s been a long time since I met someone just as passionate as me about it. She’d do well, she’s so vivacious and talkative, and I promise her I’ll help her get started just as soon as the tournament is over. It’s an easy promise to make. She’s the first woman in a long time, maybe the first ever, that I feel I could be good friends with.

And I need more friends in my life. That’s another thing Hawk showed me. I’ve been very lonely before I met him, and I didn’t even realize it, but he makes me feel like I’ll never be lonely again, and that’s a glorious feeling.

* * *

Hawk

The girls went to the bathroom and me and Ice are outside smoking a cigarette. Yanna looked about ready to drop in there, so we decided to leave, but I hope the ride back to her house will wake her up enough so she’ll want to ride some more once we get there.

“This tournament she’s in, it’s the one the Russians are interested in, isn’t it?” Ice asks, ripping me right out of my day dream of Yanna riding me. It’s not so much what he said, it’s how he said it, all strict and cold like he’s channeling Cross or something.

“It is,” I tell him. He’s here to follow the Russians around and he was with Ink last night when that other fighter was visited by them.

“They’re trying to do something with it, that much I noticed. But I presume you already knew that,” Ice says. He’s a sharp-witted guy, but he has an annoying tendency to beat around the bush when he talks. I shrug and nod.

“And you’re gonna try and prevent it,” he adds. “Does Cross know? These Russians are the biggest new client to come our way.”

Ice is the brother of Cross’ old lady, and he hasn’t been our MC brother for long, only about eight months if you don’t count the year we spent helping him kill all the Spawns prior to him joining us, but he’s proven a trust-worthy and dependable guy. Not sure I can depend on him in this though, but I can probably stop him from spreading rumors before I talk to Cross.

“I don’t see that the two things are necessarily connected,” I say. “They’re gonna buy our guns, and I’ll make sure they leave Yanna alone. Those are two separate things.”

He looks at me like he thinks that’s complete bullshit and just a lie I’m telling myself.

“I’d clear it with Cross,” he says. “But you’ve worked with him a lot longer than I have, so you probably know better.”

Do I? I’ve been telling myself that Cross doesn’t need to know anything about this since it won’t impact our business with the Russians, but I’m not even sure I believe that. But at least it sounds like Ice isn’t gonna go telling on me to Cross.

I’m saved from any more of this conversation by the girls arriving and us saying goodnight.

Yanna can barely keep her eyes open by the time we reach her house, and the kisses do rouse her somewhat, but nowhere near to the point of another ride. I can forgo sex, but I do want to talk. I want some answers and I want them from Yanna herself. It’s foreign to me, that kinda thinking. I’ve spent most of my life getting info the covert way, by hiding in the shadows and digging up things on people without them knowing. But with Yanna, I feel dirty doing it that way. I’d prefer to hear it from her, even if it’s just lies. And I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.

“Your trainer who died,” I say before I release her so she can lie down. “It’s the guy from that article I showed you, isn’t he?”

She was soft and light as a cat in my arms before I asked, but now she’s suddenly harder than a slab of stone. Even her face is stone.

She moves away from me and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing her arms like she’s cold. But she stays silent and so do I, because I need her ready to tell me this herself and on her own. It’s the only way I’m gonna get the whole truth.

She finally nods slowly. “Everything in that article was the truth. I saw it happen. I saw Yuri Kazarov stab him to death, I saw him die.”

She’s still hard like stone, but she’s shaking now, and I’m pretty damn shaken by what she just told me too. I never expected this, and I’m the guy with all the answers and all the information.

“Do you think he knows you saw it?” I ask. “Is that why he’s here?”

She gives an unsure little shrug. “I don’t think so. He didn’t know I was there, or else I wouldn’t be here right now. I left Moscow a couple of days after it happened, and I’ve never been back.”

I’m sitting up too now, and I move closer to her, stroking her long, soft hair before wrapping my arms around her to stop the shaking. That’s all I really want to do right now.

“You’ve been through some shit, haven’t you?” I say quietly, and it’s probably not the best thing to say in terms of trying to comfort her, but I’m not exactly good at that sort of thing.

“Some, yeah,” she says and smiles weakly, her green eyes sparkling like fresh morning dew on grass. “My mom died after giving birth to me, so I was raised by my grandma on her farm. But then my grandma died too, and they put me in an orphanage in the city. At fifteen I couldn’t stay there anymore either. There was this caretaker who liked to touch us girls, and I knew I couldn’t fight him off for much longer. And I figured freezing to death in winter was preferable to him touching me.”

She chuckles weakly, and I just hold her tighter. Not hard to do, because I’m more pissed off at that faceless caretaker than I’ve ever been at anyone in my life for putting her through that shit. I could find him and show him just how pissed off I am, and I might do that, but we have a bigger problem to deal with first right here in Vegas.

“I almost did freeze that winter,” she says, the meadows in her eyes opening out in all directions to show me a world of peace and quiet, and freedom that’s so close to the ultimate freedom of death it pierces me like a knife.

“But Dima took me in,” she says in a firmer voice. “He taught me how to fight and he’s my reason for winning. I have to win this tournament for him, to repay him for all he’s done for me, including dying after Yuri wanted to buy me and his other girls, and Dima refused.”

She shrugs sadly again, finally looking into my eyes. “I never told anyone that.”

I cup her cheeks and kiss her, because that’s more fitting than anything I could say right now. She’s no longer shaking, but she’s still hard like stone and it’s not going away, not even after she’s lying in my arms again and kissing me like it’s the only thing she wants.

“I’ll make sure you have your fair shot at making Dima proud,” I tell her. “And I’ll make damn sure Yuri never comes near you again.”

If I could, I’d kill him for her. Kill all of them so they never bother her again. But I can’t promise her that, and it doesn’t sit well.

She falls asleep soon after that, but I can’t. I can’t even lie still.

I go downstairs and call the guys to see what the Russians are up to. I’m almost hoping those fuckers will fuck up and make Cross go back on the deal, and that’s dangerously close to treachery, but it would solve everything. If that was the case, I could kill them and Yanna would be safe. They’re behaving though, drinking and visiting their whores. By all appearances, they’re patiently waiting for us to get them the rest of the guns.

And that’s a good thing as far as the MC is concerned. But it’s not good for Yanna. She deserves her revenge and I want to give it to her.