Claiming The Prize (7 page)

Guy raised his hand.

“
You'd better stay,” he
interrupted.

Drago sat, unsure of what was coming.
The serious expression on Guy's face was more intense than
usual.

“
We have a situation with
Khaler,” he began.
“He tested positive for an illegal substance.
It
was our in house testing, so at this point he won't be disqualified
from his upcoming fight.
Tomorrow morning, Ike, the Friar, and I
will meet with him.
He doesn't know yet, and I don't want a word
about this repeated.
If it weren't for St.
Clair and Ike, he'd be
out.
But they have convinced me to give him the opportunity to get
his head out of his ass.”

“
Anto...,” Grace
warned.

Guy rarely cursed; that he did so
revealed the extent of his anger.

“
I'm suspending him from
the gym until I get back,” he continued, ignoring Grace's pointed
looks.
“I expect my wishes to be enforced, which is why I'm
including you, Drago, in this conversation.
I've tolerated Carson's
behavior because I saw talent.
He has mistaken my tolerance for
acceptance and I mean to put an end to it.
I'm not convinced that
he'll see this as the second chance it is, so I want you prepared,
Grace.
I want you, Drago, to watch over my daughter.”

“
I understand, Anto,” Drago
affirmed as Grace nodded her head from across the breakfast
bar.

Drago understood too well.
Guy shared
his conviction that Carson was far too arrogant to acknowledge that
he was being offered an undeserved opportunity, and would probably
react in anger at any reprimand.

Grace nodded her agreement, too
affected to say anything.
This situation had been building for some
time, she knew.
Her father would not abide reckless behavior, nor
allow it to taint his reputation in the business.
Carson Khaler had
crossed a line that could not be ignored, and she wondered what his
reaction would be at finally coming face-to-face with her father's
anger.

Chapter 6

Early April sunshine penetrated the
darkened glass frontage of First Strike, announcing the much
awaited promise of spring.
The gym was lively with action, and
besides St.
Clair, only Drago and Grace felt the heavy tension in
the air when Guy Antolini escorted Carson to his upstairs office
where Ike and the Friar awaited.
Grace attempted to work on,
preparing the monthly statements of their clients, but her mind
refused to concentrate, drifting to her father's revelation of the
previous night.

And to Drago.

Back and forth her thoughts traveled
between the memory of being in Drago's embrace and concern over
what was transpiring in her father's office.
Thankful when Jeremy
appeared for jujitsu, she used the conflicting emotions to her
advantage and pressed the lesson hard.
Forty minutes later, her
mind was clear, her tension left behind on the mat.

As Jeremy reached for her
leg to begin the post-workout stretching, Drago stepped in.
He had
finished his first morning session, and watching from the mat's
edge knew he would not be able to idly observe Henner
handling
his
Grace in such an intimate way.
It had been hard enough to
tolerate Yves' hands on her, even with the knowledge that the man
thought of her as a younger sister, and his possessiveness could
not abide young Henner's doing the same.

“
I'll take
over.”

The insistence in his voice was more
than enough to send Jeremy on his way to the locker.

Drago drew Grace's thigh into his
grasp as she leaned against the sparring ring's side from the mat
covered floor below.
Her arm wrapped over the lowest rope to steady
herself as Drago slowly extended her calf out and then began the
slow press that would end when her leg reached her shoulder.
His
wide palm cupped the inside of her thigh while the other cradled
her calf, and the heat of his touch seeped into her muscles.
His
gaze held hers in its grip, and Drago heated with desire when she
did not look away.
The closeness of her body, so near as he leaned
into the stretch, brought a new awareness of the intimacy of the
position.
Watching her brown eyes widen and the rising blush wash
over her skin, Drago eased the stretch and slowly lowered her leg.
He repeated the exercise on the opposite side with deliberate
leisure, enjoying her reaction to his touch.
When he at last
released her, they sat, and Drago initiated conversation,
lightening the mood.
Guy and Yves came down, bags in hand, and
Grace went to her father and hugged him.

“
Be safe, Anto.”

“
No worries.
The Friar will
lead me to the right gate and exits.”

The men shook hands.

“
Carson's not happy, but I
don't think he'll make any trouble.
Even so, keep your eyes open,”
Guy shared with Drago.
“We'll get back sometime Sunday night.
I
have men taking care of the property, but I'll leave you to check
in on Grace.”

“
It is 'no problem', as you
say in America,” Drago answered with a grin.

“
That's what I figured,”
Guy replied with dry humor.
“All right, we're heading over to pick
up Jeremy.
He took his car home so it wouldn't sit in the lot over
the weekend.
Tommy Moore is meeting us there.
Call if you need
me.”

“
Call when you get there,”
Grace reminded.

“
I'll leave that to the
Friar,” her father smirked, certain that Grace would be glaring at
him in exasperation as he climbed into the car.

Yves and Guy pulled away, leaving
Grace and Drago to return to the warmth of indoors.
Drinking the
last of her water, Grace moved to begin cleaning the mats, but
Drago's arms encircled her from behind and pulled her down
playfully.
Laughing, each scrambled for the dominant position.
Drago rolled over, pinning her to the padded gym floor.
His size
and strength made it impossible for her to roll through.
Scooting
her hips backward in an unsuccessful attempt to escape, she gave
in, conceding her loss, and stilled under him.
Rolling again, Drago
reversed their position.

“
You'll be sorry you gave
me the advantage,” she teased, assuming a full mount.

“
You are mistaken, moj
milenka
.
It is I
who hold the advantage,” he returned.

Sitting up straight, Grace asked,
“What did you say?”
as she tried to repeat his foreign
words.

“
I said you are
mistaken,
my sweet.
”

His smile was beautiful, she thought,
and she was thankful to have these moments alone.
He was unguarded
when it was just the two of them, his harsh mask gone to reveal the
man underneath.

“
I like the sound of the
words when you say them,” she confessed sweetly.

“
Then I will speak them
often.”

They resumed their play without
reserve, laughing as they grappled to win the upper hand, enjoying
one another's touch, believing they were alone.
But one other
remained within the walls of First Strike, watching.

Carson Khaler, already angered by the
set down he had received from Guy Antolini, burned with hatred at
seeing Grace and Drago together.
In his mind, the perceived insult
from Grace stung far worse than anything her father had said.
Inwardly, he cursed them.
Grace should be his, but before his eyes
she welcomed the attention of the Slovakian, allowing him to be the
man to hold and touch her.
Carson wanted to make the bastard pay
for ignoring his warning to leave Grace to him.
As for Grace, she
looked willing enough to surrender that innocence under Zadrovec;
perhaps he'd finally find out how she would feel underneath him.
He
slipped out the back, imagining the ways in which he might exact
his revenge.

* * *

Friday arrived, and all in the gym
were anxious for the evening.
Tonight, Jeremy Henner would begin
his professional career.
He was scheduled for the preliminary bouts
as was Tommy Moore.
Tommy had fought a little more than two months
prior and won, so he had at least been through the process before,
but the set from First Strike understood how important this night
was for Jeremy.

The clock ticked, its hands advancing
in reluctant obedience, or so it appeared to the eager group.
When
Ike gave the word to close up for the day, hoots and hollers echoed
in the large building, finding Grace's ears upstairs in her office.
She closed out her work on the laptop as St.
Clair popped his head
around the door.

“
Hey there, Gracie Girl!
Are you going to join Ike and me at Dirk’s?
The old man bought the
fight card and most of the guys are heading over to grab a bite to
eat before everything gets underway.”

“
I wouldn't miss it!
I'll
be along after I finish everything up.”

St.
Clair waved and disappeared down
the hallway.
Within twenty minutes, First Strike was
deserted.

* * *

Dirk's, a fair-sized establishment,
brimmed with patrons.
Always a favorite local hot spot, tonight was
no exception.
Located on the edge of a vast shopping complex, the
bar and grill sat on a prime piece of real estate and - depending
on the night - attracted everyone from the under twenty-five set to
the retired crowd.
The brick exterior was painted black and a wide
band of polished metal wrapped the roof's edge, making the backdrop
for the neon blue letters which spelled the owner's
name.

Drago opened the lacquered steel door,
holding it for Grace, and they made their way through the throng in
search of St.
Clair and Ike.
His hand pressed into the small of her
back, assuring Grace that they had not been separated.

“
Over here!”
St.
Clair
bellowed above the din.

Drago spotted rather than heard him,
and directed Grace accordingly.
The boxing coach had his newest
love interest beside him and even Ike had a date at his side.
Removing their coats, they settled at the table while introductions
were made.
Over their meals, the group talked about Henner and
Moore, speculating on the action to come.

Delilah, who was St.
Clair's guest,
spoke up.

“
So you work at the gym,
Grace?”

“
Yes, I do,” Grace
answered.

“
How did you ever come into
that job, and what is it that you do there?”
the woman continued
her friendly inquiry.

Grace, sensing that the woman was
hoping to have found a topic she could converse about responded,
“Well, I take care of billing, ordering, and...,”

St.
Clair interrupted, “Grace does it
all.
It's her father's business.
She's also the best jujitsu
instructor I know!”
He leveled Grace with his wide smile.
“Now
don't you go and tell the Friar I said that.
It'd hurt his little
Scandinavian feelings.”

“
You meant to say the best
after the Friar, right?”
and she, Ike, and St.
Clair laughed
mischievously.

Drago smiled, taking her hand beneath
the table.
He sensed her reluctance at continuing to be the topic
of discussion and returned the conversation to safer territory
until the big screen television announced the first
fights.

“
Here we go, baby!”
St.
Clair hollered, turning his stool around to face the
screen.

Ike did likewise, just in time to see
the first contenders enter the cage.
He leaned over, explaining the
process to his date, Rosemary.

“
That's our boy, Jeremy.
They're checking the tape on his hands, making sure his gloves are
good to go.”

“
Yeah, and making sure he's
wearing his cup!”
St.
Clair chuckled.
“You don't want to forget
that.
That's for sure!”

Everyone was immersed in the pre-fight
action on the screen except Drago.
He watched with some interest,
but his senses were attuned to Grace.
Her hair was unbound tonight,
a welcome rarity, its soft blackness spilling over her shoulders,
tempting him to wrap his hands in it.
She wore a smoky gray,
sleeveless blouse with soft ruffles around the low neckline beneath
a gray, cotton-knit sweater.
A long, silver chain hung with a
single, tear-drop onyx pendant from her neck, paired with matching
drop earrings.
A knee-length, charcoal skirt worn over black
leggings and flat, calf-height boots completed her ensemble, demure
and feminine yet comfortable.

Seated next to his large frame, she
seemed small and fragile, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight
shining out from the votive cup on the table's center, and she
remained subdued until Jeremy's official introduction.
The First
Strike team members cheered, and Drago stared in fascination as her
jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly, at the onset of the fight.
Leaning forward, her eyes scanned every step, turn, and movement as
she silently mouthed the instructions she would yell if present
ringside.

Henner was an excellent wrestler, and
each takedown he scored sent Grace back a little against her seat.
As Jeremy executed the fight plan, she relaxed until she was once
again against the arm Drago had draped across the back of her
chair.
With some amusement, he observed that her muscles never
fully went lax until Henner had been awarded the decision.
She did
not cheer as those around her erupted, but smiled and leaned
against his side.