Page 96 of Nemesis

With moves like that, I bet every night’s a good night for you.

“What was your favorite part?” he asks.

I slump against the wall, letting the world twirl around me. I feel light and floaty when I finally remember to answer his question. “The hot card girls.”

He frowns. “What?”

“You know, the card girls who tell you what round you’re in. You guys should really give them a raise. The whole show would fall apart without them.”

Kirill’s snicker keens through the air as he types furiously on his phone.

“Huh. I’ll have to let the organizers know.”

“You do that,” I nod sleepily, but a chunk of my loose hair gets stuck between the bricks behind me. Ouch. I hiss in pain as I try to pull free.

“Whoa, here,” he says, stepping closer. “Let me help.”

The guy towers over me, hands grasping my hair and wrapping the loose ends around his knuckles. I don’t know when exactly the shift happens, but suddenly, I’m not having fun with my cousins outside a fight club anymore. That horrible grey invades, shrouding my sight in darkness.

It’s not Dmitri standing over me, wrapping my long hair around his fist. I start to shake.

Shit. Not here…

My lips purse for a breath that feels far too exposed.

I’m about to whisper a panicked plea when the hovering shadow dissipates.

Dmitri barely manages to flinch before the fist comes barreling into his face, rupturing his nose with a soft crack. I blink, jerked free from the memory with a shot of adrenaline.

“Dude, chill, he didn’t do anything!” Kirill helplessly pulls at Vasiliy’s arms, only to get thrown down to the ground, too.

Vas lands punch after punch to the man’s gushing face, blood spraying with each hit. It’s not like the way he fights with me in training. That calm, patient look is replaced with something feral. I lurch forward, reaching for his inked arm that’s already loading up his next hit.

He freezes as soon as I press my skin into his.

Then he rises, rushing to my side.

“You okay?” Blue eyes twinkle with genuine concern. My man, I hear whispered into the back of my drunken mind.

“Yeah,” I pant, wrapping my arms around his neck. He’s so damn tall. Maybe I can hide in his arms and never have to come out again. “It was just, you know, the hair thing.” There’s a certain freedom that comes from not having to explain any further. To have someone who knows you so well, there’s not even a shadow of doubt or blame at the optics of a situation.

He turns, addressing the group of guards gathered around us. “Under no circumstances do any of you touch her hair. Understand?”

Every man in the group nods, including the fighter still climbing to his feet from the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding his gushing nose.

Damn, I feel like I should take on his hospital bills. I wave the apology off, flashing a genuine smile. It’s not his fault that I’m fucked up.

“How was the interrogation?” I ask, swaying against Vas’ body without the wall’s support. The world goes topsy-turvy as I’m lifted into the air and held to a chest I know like the back of my hand.

I snort. The back of my hand.

Have I ever looked at the back of my hand?

“Successful,” he responds softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the corner of my lips. The sensation chases away every last particle of the dark memory, transporting me to damp grass beneath my thighs and hot swipes of his tongue against mine. I instantly want more, grabbing for the back of his head. I practically growl when he pulls away, inspecting me with a frown.

“Did you smoke?”

Shit.