“I thought you wanted far from this lifestyle.”
“I’m a mother now, Drago. I have to think of her first. You wouldn’t understand.” She shouldn’t be this anxious, but if he trapped her in his condo, things would only get worse. Her father would think she’d planned this and was purposely avoiding him. Then he’d get vengeful. Her father wasn’t a good man.
“Listen to me.” He grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place. “This is bigger than your dad squeezing a few more dollars out of you. Let me figure things out before you do something stupid.”
“I don’t have time on my side. And, once again, this is my problem, not yours.”
“You’re still hurt. Have you looked in a mirror? You’re no good to anyone in your shape, Belle. Just rest up, get better, and let me find out more. No one’s going to hurt your kid.”
Belle really didn’t want to hear his logic. Even if she suspected her father arranged a death match, it didn’t change a thing. She needed information. If she knew where they were keeping Ava, she’d fight her way in and get her back. She’d never been afraid of pain.
“You’re not keeping me here!”
****
One week later
Carlos handed him a manila envelope. “That’s everything,” he said.
“The kid?”
“Out of town somewhere. Staying with one of Randal Aiello’s shakers. They’ve got her in lockdown. Trust me, I tried to find her location, but no luck.”
Drago clenched his fist. Belle’s father didn’t even bother keeping his own granddaughter under his roof. He’d shipped the baby off to one of the assholes that worked for him breaking bones when payments weren’t made. He didn’t like it. “I’m starting to think I didn’t miss out on much being an orphan.”
“The Aiello family is cutthroat. Anyone who challenges them, disappears. They even have cops on their payroll. This isn’t going to be simple,” said Carlos.
Drago opened the envelope and leafed through the pages. There was a shitload of information on the father of Belle’s kid. Just looking at the mugshots made Drago cringe. He didn’t like envisioning her with any man, especially a piece of shit like Mikey McKinny.
“He’s tied with Aiello?”
“Nothing big, collecting bets at matches. Errand boy shit,” said Carlos. “But, yeah, they’re connected.”
“Her father sent him. I have no doubt.”
“He had a healthy bank transfer when Belle was in her early pregnancy.”
“That’s probably when the asshole took off. Classy,” said Drago. He didn’t want to upset Belle with all the new information he’d gathered and confirmed. They’d finally developed a mutual understanding.
The first few days he’d forced her to stay put for her own damn good, and she’d been a fucking devil. Now she saw the logic in healing herself before she could help anyone else, and they’d been civil with each other. Her bruises had faded enough she could cover them with makeup, and her strength had been returning rapidly. She was a firecracker, and he didn’t dare turn his back when she was in the room.
Drago had confirmed Belle’s father used Mikey to drag her back into the lifestyle, using her kid as a pawn. Fine, he’d figured that out the first night. What didn’t make sense was why she’d been slated to fall. She was supposed to end up in the morgue.
His thoughts kept returning to that prick on the news. Politicians didn’t like having skeletons in their closets—especially ones they could easily eliminate. Belle’s father was the type of man who would sacrifice his own flesh and blood for money and status. It made Drago sick.
“Can I come upstairs?” asked Carlos.
Before this week, they usually spent their fair share of time kicking back in Drago’s condo. Since Belle had been staying over, they’d meet in the posh lobby, usually when she slept.
He shook his head, returning all the paperwork into the envelope. “Now’s not a good time.”
“I thought she was on good behavior now,” Carlos asked.
“Yeah, and I want to keep it that way. She’s been improving rapidly, so she won’t stay put much longer.”
“No offense, man, but why? I mean, who is this chick to you?”
Drago ran a hand through his hair. That was the million-dollar question. Even Carlos, his best friend, couldn’t understand why he was putting himself out for some girl he’d only spoken a few words to in years. He wished someone could answer that question for him. He knew the answer though. And before he left the circuit, they’d been through a lot together.
“I felt sorry for her. That’s all.” He couldn’t even look the bastard in the eyes. “Thanks for this. Call me later.”
He walked to the elevator, leaving Carlos in the lobby. How could he explain what was going on to his friend when he didn’t even know himself? Drago was known for taking, for keeping neutral, not upheaving his entire life for a young fighter. One with sad eyes and the fullest lips. Fuck!