Stone Cold Knockout (House of Pain Book 1) (24 page)

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, getting in his face. "If I see you out here again, I'm calling Tate to come arrest your ass."

"Do it." He dropped his face so that his mouth was inches from hers. "I beg you."

"I hate you," she whispered, her eyes locked on his lips.

"You lie," he said, and he leaned in even closer, his mouth centimeters away. His breath smelled like mint, she realized, and a memory budded in the base of her brain. Just as it was taking root, he thrust his hand between her legs, unexpectedly. She gasped as her thighs clenched around him involuntarily. His fingers pushed past her little shorts, finding her wet and ready for him. She raised her eyes to meet his as he slid two long fingers inside of her. He pumped them in and out slowly and she moaned at the heavenly sensation.

He captured her lips with his, kissing her roughly as he fingered her. The world around them faded away and for a moment, she let the raw pleasure sweep her up. She kissed him back, not caring that she didn't know him. He kissed her like he knew her. He kissed her like he knew everything she liked and would give it to her if she let him. Just as she was about to let go, he broke the kiss and pulled his fingers free of her at the same time. The real world came crashing back and she felt the anger rise again. He lifted his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. He was teasing her, she realized. He was trying to confuse her even more.

Without thinking, she punched him, hard. The sound of flesh meeting flesh rang in her ears, and his face snapped to the side with the force of the impact. Time stopped for a minute and she wished she could take it back, but she couldn't. She didn't know what was happening to her, but her emotions were all jumbled up inside of her. Mikhail took a step back, his face unreadable. She avoided his eyes, afraid of what she might find there.

"I don't want to see you," she said, her voice low and miserable. "I just want my car." Then she turned and ran back into the safety of Big J's house. She closed the door lightly behind her and sank to the floor in the foyer, feeling like she was in shock. She wanted the Russian, there was no denying it. But mostly, more than anything, she wanted all of her memories back. She wanted everything to stop being so confusing and for life to go back to normal. Unfortunately, normalcy didn't look like it was going return any time soon.

***

Mikhail stared after the love of his life as she ran away from him and cursed himself. He only had himself to blame. He was so impatient to have Gennifer back that he'd gone and ruined everything. For both of their sakes, he knew he would have to back away. He would have to give her space. A sharp pain shot through his chest at the thought of letting her go. He wasn't ready to do it yet, but he knew he would have to soon. Otherwise, he might ruin any chance he had.

He straddled his bike, but he didn't start the engine. He stared up at her window, waiting. Eventually the light, tinted pink by the curtains that covered the window, would go out. For the past three nights, since she'd been at Big Jimmy's house, he'd waited for that light to go out. He didn't know why, but it comforted him, somehow. If he couldn't have her with him, at least he knew where she was. He knew she was safe.

His cellphone vibrated in his jacket pocket, and he pulled it out. It was a text from Tate. The message contained a single address, but Hector felt his lungs constrict. Anger slithered through the pain in his chest, like a poisonous snake. Adrenaline shot through him and he welcomed it. He was about to kick some ass, and he needed all the fire he could muster. He clenched his jaw and winced at the pain. He lifted his hand to his face, impressed at the force behind Gennifer's punch. His
solnyshka
still remembered how he'd taught her to fight. She was still a fighter.

Unfortunately, he was a fighter too, and doggedly focused on winning. The only prize he wanted was her, but he would settle for making Donny pay for ever touching her. The
zhopa
was on his shit-list, but for five days he hadn't been able to find him. With Tate's help, now he knew exactly where he was.

He memorized the address and then slid his phone back into his pocket. Donny could wait. He turned his eyes back to the window. The light still burned bright. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his roll of cotton and began to wrap his hands. He knew that he was about to cross a line that he swore he was never going to cross again. He knew he was letting himself go down a dangerous path, but he didn't know what else he could do.

He couldn't let Donny get away with what he'd done.

How could he, when it was still causing Gennifer so much pain? He could see how scared and unhappy she was. It killed him to see her like that.

His decision made, he flexed his wrapped fingers. He glanced up at the window again, his veins pulsing with energy. When the window finally went dark, he let out a slow breath. He knew what he had to do. He cranked the engine and his bike roared to life. He mumbled a quick prayer to himself, then took off down the street, ready for violence.

Chapter 20

T
he sun was threatening to rise over the East River when Mikhail returned home, hours later. He stripped himself of his sweat-dampened and blood-stained clothes in the foyer. He walked past her car keys on the table. In the bedroom, he ignored her clothes, littered on the floor. He stopped in front of the bed. Her blood still stained the wrinkled white sheets. He yanked on them, tearing them from the mattress, balling them up in his numb and blood-caked hands. He had at least one broken finger, but he ignored the pain. He held the sheets to his face, breathing in her scent. He collapsed on the mattress, curling around the sheets, blood from the gash above his eyebrow now mingling with hers on the white fabric. He felt like he'd been put through a meat grinder and came out on the other side, raw and broken.

The look on Donny's face as he met Mikhail's fist was imprinted on Mikhail's mind. He'd been as surprised as Mikhail had been angry. As soon as the first punch busted his nose, he knew. He knew exactly why Mikhail had come for him. He fought back, but he was no match for Mikhail's violent urge. Mikhail had stopped himself before it went to far... but it had been difficult.

It also hadn't worked.

He was just as angry and unsatisfied as before. Maybe more. His apartment was still empty. His bed was still cold. He didn't know how he would go without Gennifer for another night. He lay awake for hours, tangling the sheets around his body until they no longer smelled like her. He fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of blood and gore and violence.

He woke a few hours later, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. He took a quick shower and washed off the stink and dried blood of the night before. He wrapped up his broken finger and bandaged the gash on his head. He dropped the sheets by the stacked washer and dryer, leaving them for the cleaning lady. Then he found his phone and ignored the two new messages from Hector. He quickly dialed a number he knew from heart. It rang twice.

“
You fucking son of a bitch.” No pleasantries, just gruff Russian from his brother Nicholai. He sounded pissed and Mikhail didn't blame him. Mikhail had left him in the lurch a year ago, when he retired abruptly. But that was past, and now he needed his older brother. “What the hell do you want, Misha?”

“
You are not happy to hear from me, brother?” he said.

“
What do you think?”

“
I think that it is time to get back to work.”

“
It will not be as simple as that. You left at the top of your game, and now you want to reemerge as a returning champion? Not going to happen.” Nicholai sounded smug, and Mikhail knew he was right. But he didn't care about that. He had to fight, or he was going to go crazy. That's all he knew.

“
I will start at the bottom, I do not care.” Mikhail knew as his brother and former manager, Nicholai would do as told. They'd had a falling out when Mikhail wanted to stop being Igor Ivanhof, prize heavyweight, and live in obscurity in America. But he knew his brother was addicted to the adrenaline high of the fights, just like he was. “You still have contacts in America?”

“
Of course,” Nicholai said, as if he still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

“
I am in shape. I am ready,” Mikhail said. “Book me a fight. I will win.”

“
What has happened? Why do you change your mind?” Nicholai's voice was less angry now, more inquisitive.

“
I am bored,” Mikhail lied effortlessly, glancing up at the door. He had a flash of the paramedics wheeling Gennifer out on a stretcher, and his heart clenched. But he forced the memory out of his head. “Can you do it?”

“
I can,” Nicholai said. “But my fee has gone up. I want forty percent now.” Mikhail shook his head and chuckled. Nicholai would never change—he had always been a greedy opportunist. But that quality also made him a good manager. Besides, Mikhail didn't care about the money. He just needed the distraction. He needed an outlet.

“
It is all good, dear brother. Call me when you have something for me,” Mikhail said with a humorless smile, then hung up.

***

The throbbing music felt like it was pumping right into Gennifer's brain. She tried to smile and laugh along with whatever Erica was saying, but it was difficult. Sunday night dinner was in full swing, and Gennifer felt like her brain was going to explode. Erica seemed to be having a good time, though. She helped Maria in the kitchen and brought Hector beers like she some kind of Suzy Homemaker, smiling wide and not at all flustered by their rowdy, colorful clan. Maria and Yasmine danced in the center of the patio, their smiles wide. Big Jimmy and the other guys stood around the grill, laughing and fussing over the smoking chicken. Everyone was having a good time, except for Gennifer. Standing, she excused herself, handing Hector her half-finished plate of tamales.

Ever since her argument with Mikhail, she hadn't had much of an appetite.

There was a nagging feeling at the pit of her stomach that she couldn't shake. Something like dread, anger, and sadness, all mixed up and hardened into one tight ball. She walked across the patio, weaving through the crowd. Aaron caught her hand as she passed.

“
Are you going back inside?” he asked, the joint balanced on his lip jumping with every word.

“
Yeah, what do you want?” she asked with a sigh.

“
Can you bring me some cake when you come back?” he asked, innocently.

“
Get your own damn cake,” she said, but smiled in spite of herself.

“
A big slice,” he said. He squeezed her hand, and she knew that was as close as she was going to get to a thank you.

“
Yeah whatever,” she mumbled, pulling free of his hand. She pushed open the door to the kitchen, the throbbing in her head dulling to a mild roar as she got away from the party. She passed by Tiny and Brandon in the living room watching TV, and went right out the front door. Shutting it firmly behind her, she gulped in the fresh air and the solitude as she bent to lean on the railing. Her eyes involuntarily searched the dark street for a black motorcycle and a certain tall, intense Russian. When she didn't see him, she searched again, her eyes scanning each shadow. Her stomach clenched when she realized he wasn't there.

She'd gone too far. She'd lashed out at him violently, because violence was what she was used to. She'd punched him when all she really wanted to do was get on the back of his bike and let him take her where ever he wanted to go. Which didn't make any sense, because she barely knew the guy. He had gently comforted her and held her hand at the hospital, roughly finger-fucked her against a parked car, and was now holding her car hostage, but what else did she really know about him? Not much.

At least, that's what she told herself.

Booming bass shook the street, and she looked toward the sound. A flashy Honda, decked out with obnoxious custom rims and a paint job to match, turned onto Big J's street and Gennifer groaned. On top of everything else, the owner of the car was the last person she wanted to deal with that night. She stood and turned, ready to head back into the safety of the house. Before she could, the car squealed to a stop and the car door flew open.

“Genny!” Donny roared, slamming the door closed behind him. She jumped, fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins at the sound of his voice.

“
What the hell do you want, dickhead?” she asked, turning around. The sight that met her made her gasp in surprise. His right eye was swollen and a dark angry reddish-purple. His jaw bulged, and his cheek and lip were cut and crusted with dried blood. His left hand was in a cast, and he held it up protectively against his ribs like they were broken, or, at the the very least, bruised. “Shit,” she hissed.

“
Don't you fucking run away from me!” he screamed, his voice carrying down the street. “You had that crazy motherfucker come after me, huh?”

“
What the hell are you talking about?” Gennifer asked, although she had a pretty good idea. Her eyes were drawn back to the car as a girl in a short skirt jumped out of the passenger seat and hurried around the car, as fast as her high-heels would take her.

“
I should beat the shit out of you for fucking with my career,” he said in a lower, more dangerous voice.

“
You are so fucking stupid, Donny,” Gennifer hissed. “How are you going to come here and threaten me?”

“
I can't fight, you dumb bitch!” He lunged toward her and Gennifer jumped back. “He sprained my fucking hand!”

“
Boo hoo. Cry me a river,” she tossed out, her words more nonchalant than she really felt. Donny was dangerous, even when he was injured. Maybe even more so.

“
Baby, calm down, okay?” the girl said, but she kept her distance. She wasn't stupid. Donny'd probably smacked her around enough that he had her trained.

“
You better fuck off before Big J gets out here and sprains your other hand,” Gennifer said, her hand curling around the doorknob.

“
I don't see Big J around, do you? I don't see that crazy Russian fuck, either. I just see you and me.”

Gennifer didn't bother waiting for what he was going to do next. She turned the knob and shoved open the door. Despite his injury, he was after her in a flash. She screamed as he stuck his foot in the door before she could slam it shut.

“Go away Donny!” she yelled, and she could hear the hysteria mounting in her voice. Despite it being years since their ill-fated romance, she still felt fear flare up in her when he came after her. As much as she liked to ridicule him and try to prove that he didn't bother her,  he was still dangerous. He'd always been dangerous.

“
You think you can do this shit to me?!” He banged on the door and she jumped again, but pushed against it back against him as hard as she could.

“
I didn't do anything!” she hissed, kicking the door.

“
Donny!” the girl yelled over them. “Let's go!”

“
Shut the fuck up!” he roared. “Goddammit Genny, what the hell did I ever do to you?”

“
You know what you did!” Gennifer screamed. “You
know
what the fuck you did!” Donny punched the door once more, and the sound thundered in her ears. Then he pulled his foot back and the door slammed closed. Without thinking, Gennifer locked the deadbolt and turned around to look at the younger kids. Brandon stood behind her, like he was going to try and protect her. Tiny sat on the couch, eyes wide as saucers.

“
What the hell, G?” Brandon asked.

“
Watch TV,” she said rushing to the living room window and pushing the curtains back. She took a deep breath as she watched Donny and his girlfriend get back into his obnoxious car. His music blared again as his engine roared.  Then he peeled down the street, wheels squealing. Gennifer felt her shoulders sag in relief.

“
Rainbow!” Big J barked and she almost jumped out of her skin. “What the hell is going on?”

“
It was Donny,” Brandon said. “He was banging on the door.”

“
Donny?” Big J asked. “Why didn't he come around back?” Gennifer shrugged, swiping a hand across her forehead, not in the mood to make up some excuse that made Donny look like anything other than the violent psycho he was.

“
I don't want to talk about it,” she murmured vaguely as she pushed past Brandon and stomped up the stairs. She hurried down to the girls' bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She slid into the bottom bunk and rolled over onto her side. It was so bizarre to be back in her childhood bedroom, still dealing with old bullshit.

The door opened and she sighed.

“I'm tired. Leave me alone,” she mumbled, not even bothering to look at who came in the door.

“
I'm not gonna leave you alone, Rainbow,” Big J said, his booming voice filling the small room. “I wanna know what the hell is going on around here.”

“
Donny's an asshole,” she said, still not looking at him.

“
I wanna know the truth,” he said, taking a seat on Yasmine's bed. The metal frame creaked under his weight.

“
Mikhail beat him up,” she murmured. “He was mad, so he came after me.”

“
Wait, back up.” She felt Big J's heavy hand smack her hip. “Look at me when you're talking to me, girl.” With a sigh, she rolled over to face him. It was hard to disobey him in his own house. Which was exactly why she had to get out as soon as possible. “Why would Mikhail go after Donny?” he asked, his dark eyes on her.

“
Because.” She shrugged. “Guys are stupid.  They beat each other up all the time.”

“
I think there's a lot you're not telling me, and I don't like it.”

“
Well I don't like that you told Mikhail not to come around,” Gennifer said, sitting up.