“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
Drago sighed, and he held her close without pressing too tight. His lips rested against the top of her head, and she hated how much she loved his touch. Right now, she yearned for his strength and support. She was tired—mind and body.
You shouldn’t get too close.
“We’re going to find your kid, Belle. First though, I need you to get strong. All this shit that happened, you’ve got to understand that you could have died. If I hadn’t been there tonight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
She sniffled. “I know.” Pulling away from him, she opened and closed her fists, anything to help her through. She hated her weaknesses.
“You’re not alone here.”
“You shouldn’t be helping me. You’ve been out of the life for a long time.”
“True, but the thing is, I can’t walk away. Not now, not ever. I don’t give up.” He placed his hand beneath her chin, tilting her head back. He didn’t even show any sign that he hated her messed up face.
She’d taken one too many hits to the face, and it felt obscenely swollen. Although she’d only caught a glimpse in a reflection, she knew she looked a mess.
“This isn’t your fight, Drago.”
“I have a problem with men who abuse women and children. Seeing you tonight, there’s no way I could walk away. I’m not a good man, Belle. I’m not claiming to be. But we both know there’s a problem. Children are dying every fucking day because of this life.”
“What do you want to do? There’s a lot of power that you can’t just cut away or ignore.”
“You’re right. I have no intention of ignoring it. Not anymore. We’re going to get your kid back. That’s a promise.”
****
Drago sat down nursing a nice shot of bourbon. He used to hate the stuff. Whiskey as well. The taste had once reminded him of mold and the scent of his room where he stayed at between fights. Unlike Belle, he didn’t have a home or parents. His fighting started because he was a piece of shit on the streets.
He’d been stealing some bread from one of the stalls in the marketplace when he’d been caught. To pay for his crime, he’d been ordered into the ring. He’d been young, a baby really in the scheme of things.
No one cared about the children of whores, so, for most of his life, he had to fend for himself, which was fine. He was happy to do that, had been doing it a lot longer than people realized. Looking back, he wondered if the guy who’d thrown him in the ring expected him to die.
He’d made a lot of money over the years, lining the pockets of fat cats until he’d had enough. Fighting was something he’d done to survive. An outlet for the pain he kept bottled up.
Now, he was fighting for something else, and looking toward the door of the bathroom, he wondered what the hell he was going to do with Belle.
Fighting for her, it was going to be a challenge. She never accepted help from anyone, and she always had an attitude no matter what. But that was the way they had to be in order to survive. Not once did they have anything come easy. The fighters he remembered when he was young had to earn everything. They had to prove themselves constantly. In the early years, he had to fight for food. To hurt anyone who got in his way.
It was a cutthroat world that hadn’t gotten any easier.
From what he’d seen, it had gotten a whole lot harder and didn’t show any signs of letting up. He hated that, especially the feeling of helplessness from watching Belle. She deserved better, deserved a life far from the ring.
He’d always thought so.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Belle stood there in a simple white robe. The bruising was coming out on her skin, and she looked a fucking mess.
She hesitated, and he nodded to the spare couch a few feet away from him.
“Do you want a drink?”
“I don’t think I should.”
“It’ll relax you.”
“I don’t want to relax.”
He poured her a shot of bourbon and held it out to her. “You don’t have to drink it, but I can pretend I’m not drinking on my own.”
She took the glass from him.
Her hand shook a little. She didn’t want drinks or conversation. Her child was all she wanted.
“They won’t kill your kid,” he said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That doesn’t offer me any comfort.”
“I’m not trying to comfort you. I’m just speaking the truth. Kids are worth far more to them alive.”
“She’s a little girl, Drago. No life here is safe for her. I should have run when I had the chance.” She sniffled, and he watched her take a sip of her drink.