Fist to the Heart Ch. 10

He bit hard on his mouthpiece, tasting thick saliva and a bit of his own blood. His opponent had managed a quick jab and, while his guard hadn't been down, the man's fist had brushed over the side of his head, making the inside of his cheek crush against his teeth.

As he thought, his opponent was launching himself in a frenzy, hoping to get Johnny down just by making him lose his cool, under the pelting rain of hits. But this time, his guard was up, letting him see like a metal helmet might have allowed a medieval soldier, just enough to gauge where his opponent was.

With each punch, the man was getting restless. That explosiveness could not keep for long. No one had that kind of stamina. And they were both at their wit's end. Of them two, Johnny intended to resist longer.

His opponent stepped closer, still in berserk mode, and Johnny had to take a few steps back. But he wouldn't let the guy push him into the ropes. He danced to one side and caught the other with his right down, and straight into his cheek. His opponent made a small unwilling pirouette like a 190-pound ballerina and crashed into the floor.

Johnny stood there, deaf to anything else but the thunder in his ears. When the ref caught his arm, his eyes remained on the man on the floor. There was just so little, a blink of an eye, that made the difference.

***

He had no hopes that he was going to get together with Ruslan, not after seeing the guy having company. Maybe he would call later. Maybe.

With a shake of his head, Johnny laughed at himself. What was with him lately? Was he starting to forget who he was? Why was he fighting? He and Ruslan Kent were light years away. It was just fucking luck Johnny had scored with him.

He stopped, in the middle of the hallway, struck by a sudden realization. There had been no real push and pull between them. Ruslan hadn't seemed bent on playing games. So maybe he was just quick to judge the pretty man. He was the only one responsible for the push and pull he imagined. It was all on him.

"Hey, Johnny!" someone called for him from behind.

He could feel his face stretching into a smile. Ruslan Kent was the only man in the world Johnny was willing to let his guard down for. But his smile faded as he turned.

Ruslan was accompanied by some douchebag, dressed up to snuff, and reeking of money. It had to be that companion from earlier.

Ruslan flashed a big grin at him. "You were amazing tonight."

With confidence, Johnny walked forward, decided to make things right, and show that rich dude fresh off some private plane who was boss. But before he could reach Ruslan, the new guy moved faster and stretched out one arm, offering Johnny his hand, and practically walking in front of his host. "Oh, man, what a bout!" he exclaimed, and Johnny had no other choice but to take his hand.

Ruslan's companion had his upper lip curled, revealing his teeth, like a horse. Something in his smile was striking Johnny as insincere.

"Nigel wanted so much to meet you." Ruslan moved on the side. "It looks like he beat me to it, but here are some proper introductions. Nigel, this is the most promising fighter who has put a foot in papa's ring in a long, long time, Johnny Bryne. And Johnny, this is a friend, Nigel Davenport."

Davenport? Johnny worked his jaw. Maybe it was a coincidence? He looked at himwhile holding his hand, squeezing it now, and making some of that dishonest smile fade from the his face.

The resemblance was there. And no, he didn't imagine it. Eventually, Nigel coughed and made a sign that he wanted to release his hand. Johnny dropped it quickly, his eyes trained on him.

"A friend, huh?" he said.

"Yes, he came quite a long way -" Ruslan began.

Johnny pulled Ruslan to him so fast that he almost lost his balance. He took Ruslan hard by the shoulders and stared defiantly at Nigel. The insincere smile was all gone now. Nigel's slightly slanted eyes were examining him with curiosity, and something like the disgust one had to feel while staring at a bug.

Ruslan shifted next to him, trying to pry himself free. But Johnny was having none of it. He wouldn't let Ruslan believe this scumbag was a friend. If he was related to who Johnny thought, he was a scumbag from a family of scumbags.

"Johnny," Ruslan said quietly, trying to draw his attention.

"You're done here, right?" Johnny said while looking at Nigel. "Let's go."

"No," Ruslan protested. "We have a table reserved. I wanted to have you come with us -"

"No, thanks," he said brusquely.

He had no time to explain to Ruslan what was wrong. What he needed was to take Ruslan away from that guy. "We're going," he added and started to pull Ruslan after him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ruslan hissed at him, and this time opposed more resistance.

"We need to go," Johnny said stubbornly.

"No." Ruslan finally pried himself free from Johnny's hold. "It looks like you're a bit too hot-headed after the bout. We'll talk later."

"Like hell," Johnny said through his teeth.

"I can leave you guys alone for a few minutes to sort out this ... lovers' quarrel?" Nigel intervened, looking questioningly at Ruslan.

"Oh, no, we're nothing like that," Ruslan hurried to say while throwing Johnny an annoyed glance.

"Yeah, leave." Johnny gestured for Nigel to get lost.

"I'm going to inspect a little the ring, now that the bout is over. I hope it is enough time." Nigel smiled widely, and sauntered over to Ruslan, placing a quick peck on his cheek. "I look forward to the tonight's entertainment," he added and looked at Johnny with a satisfied grin.

Nigel was playing the generous part, but he was nothing but a scumbag. And what entertainment? Whatever. As soon as he was out of sight, Johnny would tell Ruslan.

"Okay," Ruslan murmured, and Nigel walked away.

Johnny followed the guy with his eyes until Nigel disappeared around a corner.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ruslan whispered angrily and punched him in the shoulder, taking him by surprise. "I'm trying so hard to tell my papa that you're a good guy, and you're behaving like a possessive Neanderthal!"

"Ruslan, listen to me." Johnny ignored how pissed the other was and pushed him into one of the side walls.

He grabbed Ruslan's face and forced him to look up. He needed to be convincing. Ruslan had no reason to believe Nigel Davenport was some scumbag. "This guy is bad, okay? He's a bad man," Johnny said, towering over the other, hoping to keep him safe like that.

Ruslan rolled his eyes. "Johnny, seriously, you don't know him. And he doesn't know you. How can you say such a thing?"

"Trust me. I don't know him, that's right, but I know his family. They're fucking bad people," Johnny said, moving his thumbs slowly across Ruslan's jawline, trying hard to be gentle, but firm.

Ruslan placed his hands over his wrists, obviously wanting for Johnny to let go. "Is this some jealousy you're feeling? I told you he's just a friend. And what do you know about his family? And how? If all you have is a name, that may be just a coincidence," Ruslan demanded to know.

Johnny pursed his lips. There was so much he needed to tell Ruslan. But it was not exactly a good idea to start telling his life's story with that scumbag nearby.

"Let's go to your place, and I'll tell you all about it."

"Tell me now," Ruslan said.

"Are you two still arguing?" Nigel said, materializing next to him, and seemingly quick to finish his tour of the building. "Ruslan, forgive me for assuming this, but is this guy bothering you?"

"Watch it," Johnny growled. "You don't want to piss me off."

"Fighters." Nigel exhaled and shook his head. "Always ready for a scuffle. You're making Ruslan uncomfortable, pal. Should I call security?" he added, turning toward Ruslan.

"Why? Do you need help?" Johnny finally let go of Ruslan so that he could face Nigel.

"Help? What for? Oh, do you think I want to spar with you? Such a silly thing to believe," Nigel said, crossing his arms.

"Spar? I'd wreck you," Johnny said through his teeth.

"Seriously, Johnny, you're out of line!" Ruslan intervened, putting himself between them. "Go home and clear your head. Nigel, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry, Ruslan." Nigel smiled, full of himself. "I'm sure your lovely company tonight will compensate for any ... nuisance."

Johnny stared at Nigel, feeling all the blood in his body getting to his head. A vein was throbbing somewhere in his neck.

"Chill." Ruslan grabbed him and forced him to look at him. "I mean it," he added, pointing a finger at Johnny.

He thought he was good at this game of surviving. But right now, he wanted nothing but to wipe the smug grin off Nigel Davenport's face, with both his fists. And, if he was indeed related to the scumbag who had taken everything away from Johnny, which he had little doubts about, now seeing the man's MO in dealing with others, that meant that beating the crap out of Nigel would mean putting himself in real danger. And not only himself. His mom, too.

If Douglas Kent could find anything about him, no one could say others couldn't, including where he was keeping his mom. So far, as long as he paid what was due, he was safe, and he had no reasons to fear for his mom. But, now, with his fists still up, curled tightly, he was thinking.

Just like in the ring.

Johnny put his fists down. "See for yourself," he said through his teeth and shook Ruslan's touch away.

It wasn't his business. And his knee jerk reaction from earlier was just that. Reacting on instinct. On impulse. And that did not usually work that well, as far as he knew.

***

Ruslan looked at Johnny's retreating back, still confused over his reaction. Yeah, Johnny was a hothead, but what had just happened was more than that. Had to be.

"Shall we go now? Let's leave all this unpleasantness behind." Nigel took his arm.

Ruslan smiled politely. "I'm terribly sorry. Maybe it was all because of all that adrenaline going to his head," he tried to justify Johnny's behavior.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Nigel quipped. "But, if I may say so, Ruslan, I believe that you would do better not letting such men believe they could treat you as they please just because you're noble enough to treat them as equals. Hmm, what do you say?"

Ruslan knew he had a hard time keeping the same smile as Nigel was looking at him with searching eyes.

"Johnny and I -" he started.

"Let's not talk about that man anymore. You wanted to invite him over for dinner, and all he could think of was to act in such a manner. But, it's all for the better," Nigel said brightly. "This way, I can have you all to myself tonight."

Ruslan's smile was strained now. He would have much liked to have had Johnny join them and later to have fun with him, but that was off the table now. He wasn't particularly looking forward to spending another boring dinner going through arid conversation with Nigel.

Under other circumstances, he would have found Nigel almost charming. He understood why the old man tried so hard to sell Nigel to him as a potential partner. He was from a good family, wealthy, with connections. He had a degree in economics, so there had been topics of discussion Ruslan had found familiar.

Only that Ruslan was not at all interested in talking about how to run a successful business. He had other things he would have much liked to do, and Nigel, while obviously sharing the same interests, was not the desired partner.

If asked point blank, Ruslan couldn't say what he didn't like about him. He had jumped in bed with so many men in his life. Nigel was well mannered, and usually, Ruslan was not against that. He wasn't bad looking, and by his wiry constitution, which could be guessed under his tailored suit, he was probably capable of some serious action between the sheets. Plus, he had made no secret he was interested in taking things to a more heated level than endless discussions about business.

But Ruslan could not care less about him. He had waited for Saturday to come just so that he could see Johnny again, and now he felt frustrated.

Yet, he could not just forgive Johnny for his behavior. It had been over the top and unnecessary. So Johnny was jealous. He didn't have to come up with some made up lie about how Nigel Davenport was somehow a dangerous man.

Ruslan stole one look at his companion for the evening. By all means, Nigel Davenport seemed a goody two shoes. But maybe, Ruslan pondered, as they walked to the car, he needed to pay more attention than just to appearances.

***

"So, Ruslan, your father seems interested in closing a deal. Now, that I have seen your thriving business, I will go back to mine with some recommendations." Nigel leaned over the table, looking Ruslan in the eyes.

"That is great news." Ruslan nodded. "I look forward to a successful collaboration."

"Actually," Nigel covered Ruslan's hand as he reached for the check, "I look forward to more than just a business deal. And please, let me take this. All week, you have been nothing but an accommodating host."

"Nigel," Ruslan pulled back his hand slowly enough to avoid insulting his guest, "I am glad you are interested in doing business with us. Unfortunately, I cannot say anything else about the other part. I am flattered. I truly am. But -"

"Ah, there is someone else." Nigel smiled, and Ruslan, paying close attention this time, could tell the smile wasn't reaching his eyes. "That fighter?"

"I would rather not comment on that," Ruslan said promptly.

"I thought you said you two don't have that sort of relationship," Nigel insisted.

"We don't," Ruslan agreed. "But I would not go into something I don't feel strongly about."

"Okay. Friends, then?" Nigel offered his hand.

Ruslan took it and shook it slightly.

"One last toast?" Nigel tapped his index finger against his wine glass.

"Certainly," Ruslan agreed.

Johnny was exaggerating. Nigel Davenport was a nice guy, maybe a little too boring, but not the bad man Johnny was talking about.

He made a small grimace as he sipped his wine. While the old man had struggled to make a connoisseur out of him, he only knew that he liked white wine better than red. Somehow he doubted wine sold in that sort of establishment they were in was supposed to have that slightly salty taste. He was about to say something and call for the waiter to bring him another glass when Nigel stopped him.

"Bottoms up and then hit the road?" Nigel asked with a broad smile.

There was little left in his glass. And making the waiter come again would prolong their dinner. He wanted to get back home and call Johnny. The man needed to explain himself and, in particular, what he had meant about Nigel's family. And, simply put, Ruslan hoped Johnny had cooled off already.

***

Johnny wanted to smack himself hard. What the hell was he doing, stalking Ruslan like that? He had waited in the shadows when Ruslan and his companion had left the ring and gotten into the car and had overheard where they planned to have dinner.

And now, he was outside that restaurant, trying not to look too conspicuous, or as if he was loitering.

The problem was he could not get rid of that nagging sensation that Nigel Davenport was up to no good. Maybe he was paranoid. But he had eventually taken a cab and had the driver drop him not far away from that expensive place, only so that he could keep an eye on Ruslan and his companion.

He hoped he wasn't right. So Ruslan was entirely out of his league. He wouldn't be upset if the pretty man chose that rich scumbag. But if Nigel Davenport was half the scumbag the other Davenport Johnny knew was, then Ruslan could be in trouble.

He didn't want to risk it. If Ruslan waved goodbye to that scumbag after their fancy dinner, he would go to sleep, his mind at ease. Of course, if the duo left together, Johnny didn't know what to do. Maybe he would follow them. Cabs were everywhere at that hour, ready to collect the last patrons from the lively avenue.

***

"I'm so sorry, but I must take this call." Nigel pushed back his chair and made a helpless gesture at his phone. "Do you mind waiting for me here? You could have some dessert," he suggested. "I will try to make it as quick as possible."

"Okay," Ruslan agreed.

He pulled at his collar, as Nigel walked away to find some privacy for taking his call. Why was so hot in there? Usually, such places maintained a perfect temperature to ensure their patrons' utmost comfort, so it was rather strange to feel like that.

Taking out his phone, he browsed through his contacts. Somehow, the names of a few acquaintances seemed absurdly funny. He snorted and then tried to hide a giggle with the phone. What was he trying to do again? Ah, he wanted to call Johnny.

Only the thought was making him ... Hmm, maybe that was why the expression 'hot under the collar' was used when guys got aroused. He was indeed, hot, and now even more impatient to be through with Nigel so that he could find Johnny fast and take him home.

Ruslan bit his bottom lip as he remembered Johnny's muscular body stretched on top of his sheets. That man was making him hungry for sex. Not that he wasn't usually horny and up for fun, but Johnny was doing more to him than that.

Johnny knew how to satisfy him. And that was what Ruslan was yearning for. Right that very moment.

Now that was a tad odd. But why? Ruslan tried to focus, but it was like his rational thoughts wanted to slip from his mind, like running water.

"Done," Nigel interrupted his confused thoughts. "How about you see me to my hotel? It's only a little away from here. We could walk by foot."

Ruslan had a mind to say that he minded that. He minded any delay to see Johnny quite a lot at that point. But the old man had told him to be polite to Nigel, and that was what he needed to do.

He stood up. "Certainly."

Was it just him, or were the lights in the restaurant a bit too bright? A bit of fresh air would do him good. Plus, maybe the wine had gotten too much to his head, although that wasn't usually the case.

Nigel offered his arm, with a goofy smile, and Ruslan took it. He wouldn't stumble like a drunk outside the restaurant.

***

Johnny was starting to get a little anxious, and he was keeping himself away from the door when he finally saw the men he was expecting walking out of the restaurant.

He pulled his hoodie to cover his face. Strangely enough, the two weren't hailing a cab, nor did they seem to wait for their ride. And that wasn't the only strange thing.

Ruslan was holding onto the other man like he could not walk properly on his two legs. Something was fishy. Was Ruslan drunk? During the weeks they had been fooling around, the pretty man didn't seem particularly fond of the bottle. Also, by the fun banter between Ruslan and his best friend Yanis, it looked like he could hold his liquor pretty well.

For the moment, Johnny decided to follow the two from a safe distance. There were plenty of people walking to and fro at that hour, so he could keep a few feet between them, without risking detection.

He was surprised to see them taking one corner and walking down a less traveled street. That didn't lead to any of the posh hotels in the neighborhood, as far as he knew. It was also a problem that he could not follow the two from up close. That street was not as crowded, but the lights were a bit dimmer.

He fell back and walked carefully so that his footsteps could not give him away.

***

Ruslan felt his limbs a bit heavy as if he was walking through water. The same euphoria making him giggle was also making a mess of his brain. But he could feel a small chill.

"How long to your hotel? Wait, weren't you staying at -" he trailed off.

He could not put his thoughts in order. That sudden realization, together with the fact that he could see they were walking now down an almost deserted street, was screaming at him to wake up.