I shrugged again. “Brent and Cole are big news. Anything that I can put in print that others don’t have is good business.” Sticking to the truth as much as possible was always key when caught snooping. And I was press. They expected it of me.
“Hear anything interesting?” Daniil asked gently.
Instinct had me taking a step back. The man was chilling on a different level. “Nothing I didn’t already know.” Ember was not happy with Brent and Cole. She always smiled pretty for the cameras, but her eyes gave her away. Anyone who hid that much in her gaze was not happy.
“What a shame,” Daniil stated slowly. He glanced at Artur, speaking in Russian before his regard returned to me. “Artur will be your escort while you interview the group you were spying on.” He bent, and I froze like a skittish deer as he placed his mouth against my ear, my damp hair being pressed against my head. “If I ever catch you spying on any of my children, you will never write another article. Because you won’t have hands to do it with.”
I started trembling at the blatant honesty in his tone as he leaned back and smiled charmingly. Right before he angled his body differently, and with reflexes I sure as hell did not have, he slipped his hand down my camisole right into my bra. My eyes widened as he grabbed the tape recorder and pulled in out just as swiftly as he had stuck his hand down my top.
My reflex came naturally to any man that would have done that.
I smacked him across his face. I was smart enough to realize that was a really bad move, and stumbled back just as quickly, slamming against the bleachers.
Silence extended as he slowly straightened, his gaze wandering over me, his expression one of disdain as he rubbed his cheek. He did not even need to say anything. His look said it all. I was not his type. Never would be. I was beneath him.
My eyes narrowed. But I did not say anything. I had just poked the shark with…not even a sharp stick…more like, a twig. It was just enough to irritate him and make him notice me. I sure as hell did not want to be his dinner.
Then, he opened his big fat mouth. “You shouldn’t hide something like this in an area so small. It’s too noticeable.” He twirled the tape recorder between his fingers, his lips twitching as he started to turn to walk away.
My eyes narrowed even further and I crossed my arms over my B-cups, more than a little self-conscious. “I’m sure you know plenty about small things, old man. I hear with age appendages tend to shrivel.” I let my lips twitch as his had. “Like prunes.”
Stash choked.
Roman snorted.
I quickly backed away as Daniil turned in my direction, utterly honed on my face.
Luckily, Stash and Roman intercepted him and herded him away.
Artur was staring with stunned amusement. “You really don’t want to piss him off.” He jerked his head at his dad. “And you just did.”
I shrugged, staring at the tape recorder Daniil was pocketing. I had more, and an excellent memory, but still, that would be coming out of my paycheck. Not to mention, I knew Artur was right. I had possibly just started something that I was in no way prepared for.
Sounding bored, when he did not get a comment from me, Artur asked, “Do you want an interview with my group, or not?”
“Might as well,” I muttered, knowing I needed to give something to my editor tonight.
Artur escorted me to Lion Security’s group.
I interviewed each one, receiving only curt answers even when I kept the questions acceptable to the event. Though playing the good little reporter for the charity, my cover was most definitely blown.
Brick Foundation’s event was set up with different categories. Lone sparring, gun control, group defense, group offense, partner sparring, partner sparring for show, weapons show, and an obstacle course, group and loner. There was not enough time for all of them to be done in one day, so each event had been split up for different days and times, only three hours in the morning, and three hours in the evening.
There were no rules for men against women, supposedly they were all trained enough to fight any weight group or sex. At the end of the two weeks, they would tally what groups had the most wins. The top two teams would then pick which person/persons they wanted to compete in each event again for a grand finale. During the evenings, every third night, there were parties planned.
Tonight was lone sparring. As the celebrities entered, I snapped photos of them in their casual attire as they were given score cards, where they were to mark down how much they would like to donate based on each match. I was sure they already had a total amount they wanted to give, but this allowed them to play-act making bets. In the end, no one lost any money. They had given it to charity and gotten to see their favorite ‘life saver’ in action. Really, for a Donovan planned event, it was damn genius.
Once the lights started blinking, indicating the event was about to begin, Mrs. Donovan and her husband, the Mayor, slipped into the ring. A mike was lowered, just like in a real boxing match, and polite applause ensued. I quickly took my seat in the chairs provided on one side for the press that were barely squeezed between a fully extended bleacher and the ring. I was right up front, and loving it. I had grabbed a seat smack in the middle on the front row right when the bleachers were pulled out. I guess I had not lost my touch for the newbie stuff.
I flicked my other tape recorder on, while I dug in my duffle for my high-zoom camera. I quickly snapped a photo of the Mayor and Mrs. Donovan as they said a few words that explained the events and where the proceeds of the donations would go.
A referee stepped into the ring as the competing groups entered from a side door, their assigned sitting area directly behind the press on one-half of the bleachers. I scanned the groups entering and started laughing quietly when I saw my target group. They were wearing hot pink tank tops or sports bras with black athletic shorts. There were not many women at Lion Security, and it looked damn funny seeing them in that color. By their expressions, they were not entirely too pleased with it either.
I zeroed in on Cole, Brent, Grigori, and Ember, snapping many shots. Oddly, Ember was wearing a tank top like the men, instead of a sports bra like the women of their group. She was a Goth girl, but I had not expected her to be bashful. I pulled out my notepad, and quickly wrote that information down to investigate later.
Up in the boxing ring, the referee was filling the bejeweled top hat that Mrs. Donovan handed him with different colors of paper, the colors of the competitor’s team shirts that had a participant’s name on each slip. If Mrs. Donovan drew the same color in a row, she would then put the second slip back and keep drawing until she drew one of a different color.