Zel: Markovic MMA (13 page)

With the grace of a gymnast, Sara carefully balanced on the hood, her heels finding traction on the safety mat her crew had put in place. Rocking side to side, she unhooked the back of the shaper and peeled it away from her body. She tossed it overhead and did a sexy spin atop the hood, giving everyone a good look at the lacy briefs covering her voluptuous ass. Sara gave her backside a hearty smack.

The roar of approval sent shivers down her spine. Tonight, more than ever, Sara desperately needed the energy of the pumped-up crowd. Despite being utterly heartbroken, she approached this engagement with the utmost professionalism. BJ deserved to feel like the center of her attention. Feeding off the crowd allowed Sara to play up her sexiness and mischievous nature.

Hips swiveling, she crouched low and gave them a peek between her thighs before sitting down on the edge of the hood. Her legs dangled over the side as she kicked off her pumps and then made a show of unsnapping her garters and peeling off one black stocking and then the other. She used one stocking as a prop, holding it beneath her breasts as she gave them a wild shake.

Legs bare, Sara dropped the stocking and slid off the hood. She danced back to center stage and hooked her thumbs in the lacy red briefs. Undulating like a belly dancer, Sara dragged the panties down her ample hips inch by teasing inch to reveal a red G-string and the words “Happy Birthday BJ” emblazoned across her ass cheeks in fiery orange paint. The whistles and clapping nearly drowned out the music.

She stepped out of her panties and strutted downstage until she could almost touch the crowd. Sara made quick work of dispensing her bra. Red and black nipple tassels fluttered free, the thin cords smacking against her skin. She launched the bra into the crowd before grabbing her full breasts and jiggling them in her palms. Releasing her breasts, Sara pumped her fist in the air and danced like a madwoman to the final twenty or so seconds of a song she considered her personal anthem.

As Freddie Mercury’s voice faded on the track and the pounding guitar and drums took over, Sara danced backward toward the car. Just seconds before the song ended, she hopped onto the car’s edge and fell backward into the backseat, feet straight up in the air.

When the curtain fell, the club shook with thunderous applause. Her body vibrated with the excited shouts and whistles. Breathless, she panted and touched her face. What should have been one of the proudest moments of her life was tainted with the regret of what had happened with Zel. Even now the memories of yesterday intruded. She wished she could just forget the whole ugly scene.

With her crew’s help, Sara got out of the backseat and returned to her dressing room. Lucy helped her clean the body paint off her backside. While not a particularly glamorous moment for either of them, they managed to laugh about the lengths they both went to in order to provide the best show possible. As always after debuting a number, they discussed the minor changes she might make to the routine the next time she used it.

Keeping with her fifties theme for the night, Sara changed into a hip-hugging red dress with a sexy pencil skirt and pleated bust. She styled her hair into a fifties-inspired coiffure and slipped on a pair of designer pumps. Back out in the crowd, Sara plastered on her brightest smile and schmoozed. She wished BJ the very happiest birthday and even had a piece of cake.

As soon as she could, Sara slipped away unnoticed through a back exit. Her entourage of assistants, stylists and crew members stayed at the club with her blessing. They deserved a night of enjoyment for all their hard work.

But Lucy, hardworking, loyal and the best sister ever, bundled her into the backseat of a private car that whisked them away from the noisy nightspot. “You okay?”

Lucy knew everything that had happened last night. Sara had never kept anything from her sister, especially not something
that
important. The only details Sara had kept to herself concerned the manner of Lalo’s death. That was a secret she would take to the grave.

Everything else had been fair game. Lucy had agreed that there was nothing good that would come from telling the rest of the family that Ramsay had shown up in Las Vegas or the way he had tried to attack her or the way Besian had made him disappear. It was better if they went home and never mentioned him at all.

“I’m fine.” Feeling so incredibly alone, Sara stared out the window and watched the blur of the passing strip. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about Zel. Soon, he would be climbing into that eight-sided cage for that barbaric fight. Her stomach churned at the conjured image of his bruised and battered body. If he were hurt badly, she’d just die.

It seemed ridiculous that she could care about one person so deeply after so short a time, but there it was. Her heart clenched as she realized just how much she cared about Zel. This wasn’t infatuation or lust. This was something more. Something so serious she trembled with its power.

The limo rolled to a stop, and the driver climbed out but he didn’t open the door. Sara glanced at her sister with confusion. Her sister looked anxious and a little guilty too. Narrowing her eyes, Sara asked, “What did you do?”

“Last night, I made some new friends,” Lucy said as she opened the flap on the leather messenger bag she carried everywhere. “Erin Markovic is pretty much the nicest woman I’ve ever met. She’s sweet, and she cares about her husband’s fighters.”

Sara swallowed nervously. “And?”

“And she wanted me to give you this.” Lucy handed over a legal-sized envelope.

Sara took the envelope from her sister. Curious, she squeezed together the metal brads and shook the contents of the envelope into her palm. She frowned with confusion at the pictures that fell out and into her hand. The first was a snapshot of the cutest little boy. Sara didn’t even have to turn it over to identify the child. It was Zel’s son, Matthias.

The next picture was a group of shabbily dressed young children ranging from toddlers to teens stood on the steps of a rundown building. Faded and chipped painted letters arched over the entrance.
St. Marko Krizin Orphanage.

She stared at the faces of the children, noticing their haunted eyes. Upon closer inspection, they all looked a bit skinny and ever so sad. Her heart broke for the poor little creatures. She could tell by the age of the picture that it was at least thirty years old. Was one of those little boys Zel?

The final photo was a snapshot of Zel, Ivan, Alexei and some other men, all of them brawny fighter types, in their workout clothes. They were sweaty and laughing. It was a brotherhood of men who shared the same gym space.

She unfolded the note that accompanied the photos and read the handwritten message from Erin Markovic.

Zel is like my Ivan. Believe me when I say that you will never find a man more loyal or loving than Zel. Don’t let him slip through your fingers now. He fought for you. It’s time for you to fight for him.

Her gaze drifted to the VIP credentials that had fallen onto her lap when she had given the envelope a shake. Sara swallowed hard as she realized this was one of those moments she would look back on some day with the utmost satisfaction or the deepest regret. It struck her quite suddenly there wasn’t really a decision to be made. She wanted Zel. She wanted to apologize and make things right.

“I’m supposed to tell you that if you aren’t going those photos need to be returned to Besian tonight. Erin kind of borrowed them from Zel’s hotel room.”

Sara put the phots back in the envelope. “I’ll give them back to Zel myself.”

Lucy grinned. “Go get your man, Sara. For once in your life, be happy.”

Sara didn’t hesitate. “I will be happy.”

Lucy leaned over and kissed her cheek before tapping on the car window to signal the driver. The door opened, and she stepped out of the vehicle. Bending down, she instructed, “Don’t worry about me or the rest of the team. You go and do your thing. I’ve got this.”

“I love you, Lucy. Thank you.”

“I love you, Sarita. Good luck!”

The door was shut, and the driver slid behind the wheel. He glanced back at her, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. “You just sit tight, Miss Rubens. I’ve got friends working security. We’ll get you right in the fight.”

“I hope so,” she whispered, desperation overtaking her body.

The next twenty minutes were the longest of her life. The driver wove in and out of the heavy traffic. Sara’s eyes bugged out at some of his maneuvers. Once, they barely cleared another car’s side by mere centimeters, but so long as he kept the car moving forward, she didn’t care.

Antsy, Sara fidgeted with her skirt’s hem and wondered what the hell she was going to say when she saw Zel. Somehow “I was wrong” just didn’t seem to cut it. But it was the best she had. It would have to do.

When they neared the arena, her driver took a side street that led them to a back entrance with loading docks for vendors. The moment the limo stopped, Sara bailed from the backseat and dashed toward a pair of security guards chatting animatedly with someone hanging out near an exit door.
Besian
.

The mob boss smiled at her as she raced toward him, tottering on her too tall heels. He made a show of checking his watch. “You cut it close.”

“I got her here as quickly as possible, Mr. Beciraj. Just as you instructed,” her driver said.

“I appreciate it.” Besian handed the driver a thick envelope. “You’ll stay here until my friend and her man are ready to leave. The guards know a place you can park.”

“Yes, sir.” The driver happily pocketed the envelope.

Sara presented her credentials to the security guards. One of them flicked his fingers after studying them. “Follow me. I’ll get you to your seats.”

Bubbling with excitement and relief, Sara latched onto Besian’s arm. “Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me.”

Besian kissed the top of her head. “You’ll always be one of my girls.”

Her relationship with Besian would always be hard to explain to an outsider. They were friends, but more than friends. Their friendship had survived so much because they had never fallen prey to the messy romantic entanglements and sexual attraction that ruined so many of these types of relationships. It seemed oddly fitting that the man who had shown her a way to save her family ten years ago was now showing her how to save her budding romance with Zel.

They traversed a series of labyrinthine hallways and stairwells. Employees rushed along the same corridors, often shoving her out of the way in their haste to get to their destinations. Sara didn’t care. She just needed to see Zel.

As they neared the arena floor, the deafening cacophony took Sara by surprise. She had never been to a fight like this and had no idea what to expect. The guard paused at an entryway onto the lowest—and seemingly most expensive—deck of seats to converse with another set of guards and an attendant of some sort. Their tickets were inspected and they were waved through.

“You’re on your own now,” Besian said before giving her arm an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”

Sara nodded and followed a woman in a red vest and black slacks down a small set of stairs to an aisle seat.

Erin Markovic occupied the seat right next to hers. She looked incredible in a sexy dress with an edgy cut. The shimmery gold fabric of the pencil skirt hugged her hips and outlines her curves beautifully. The white camisole style bodice popped against her tanned skin and dark hair. Louboutin heels and gold jewelry complemented her outfit to perfection. Her smoldering eye makeup and bright red lipstick popped.

Erin smiled and gave her two quick air kisses and a hug. “It’s almost time for Zel to make his entrance.”

A heartbeat later, the lights dimmed and loud music blared over the speakers. Sara’s heart fluttered in her chest as she glanced back in the direction Erin pointed. It made sense that Ivan’s wife would have the perfect seats right along the corridor where Zel and his team would enter. She couldn’t see him at first and looked toward the massive television screen mounted high above them for a better view.

Tense. Powerful. Handsome. Zel looked every bit the warrior he was. His serious gaze was focused forward on the looming black cage as he advanced down the aisle. Ivan and the rest of the coaching staff flanked their fighter, all of them in the trademark black and red clothing favored by the gym.

As Zel drew near, Sara looked away from the screen and toward the aisle. She held her breath as Zel came into view. She almost didn’t want him to see her. She worried that seeing her and remembering everything that had happened last night would shake his concentration. She would never forgive herself if he got hurt because she had rattled him.

But when his gaze skipped from the cage to her face, she didn’t see shock registered in his expression. The tension in his jaw relaxed, and his mouth twitched with the barest smile. His eyes were warm and hopeful as they settled on her. She smiled at him, the silent gesture begging his forgiveness and encouraging him at the same time. Zel winked at her, and Sara’s heart raced with sheer joy, the pulse pounding in her ears so loud she couldn’t even hear the raucous crowd surrounding them.

Dazed, she watched as Zel mounted the steps and entered the cage. While Mace worked his way down his corridor, Zel stood still and let the referee and cutman inspect him. After Mace had gone through the same routine, the emcee finished his dramatic introductions and Zel got his final moments of coaching from Ivan. The referee called both fighters to the center of the ring where they squared off as he gave his final instructions.

When the starting bell rang, Sara thought she might pass out. Her entire body felt hot and then cold as her blood pressure spiked and her heart raced to keep up with all of the adrenaline that had just been released into her blood stream. Mace swung first, and Zel evaded the massive punch, landing one of his own to Mace’s ribs.

With that first trading of blows, the crowd went nuts. Sara tried to follow the fight, but it was hard. Every time Zel took a hit, her stomach lurched. Every time he landed a hit, her heart flip-flopped in her chest. Calm and cool, Erin stood next to her and watched the pair with the practiced eye of an avid sportswoman. She didn’t look particularly concerned or worried so Sara decided that Zel was doing just fine. There was no need to panic.