by Tia Louise
“The one you saved on the beach? The one you were working with?”
“I’m still working with her.” My brow lined as I thought. “She asked me to teach her boxing. Show her some moves, self-defense.”
A smile was in his voice. “You started training her? In boxing?”
“Yeah, and she’s really good, a fast learner.” A knot was in my throat, and I knew I had to stop beating around the bush. “I’ve been seeing her away from the gym. She’s really kind and beautiful.”
“That’s great news.” Doc’s voice was cheerful. “So what’s the problem?”
“She doesn’t know about me, about my past.” Pressing my fingers against my closed eyes, I rubbed my eyelids. “I know I need to tell her. I can’t seem to find a way. I wondered… would it be wrong if I didn’t? No—I know I have to tell her everything.”
“It sounds like you know the answer here. What are you asking from me?”
Taking a deep breath, I sat back on the bench. “I’m not asking for anything, I guess. I just needed to hear a friendly voice.”
“You got this, my friend. If she’s the woman you believe she is, she’ll be strong enough for your past.”
“I love her, Doc.” An ache of dread moved through my chest. “I didn’t know I’d never been in love until I met her.”
It was all I was able to say, but he knew the rest. “True love destroys fear. It covers sins. It’s stronger than any human emotion.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s in the Bible.” A voice spoke to him, and the raking sound of his hand over the receiver filled my ear. “I’ve got to go, but listen to me. I know you, and I know your heart. If you love this girl, she has to be something pretty special. Tell her your truth. She’ll love you through it.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I switched off my phone and stared at it a little while. Then I got up and walked slowly to my truck. I would tell her. I’d take a day, collect my thoughts, and I’d tell her my story. If I loved her, I had to believe she was strong enough to hear it.
26
“I am Fortune’s fool.”
Kenny
The days flowed by like keys on a piano, each one a beautiful note of music. We spent every night together, either at his place or at mine, and every day at the gym, we exchanged glances from across the room, occasionally passing in the halls to steal a kiss, which naturally led to him copping a feel. I understood Rook and Tammy’s problem with keeping it in their pants now. When you loved someone this much, it was hard to stop at just a kiss, but we did. Slayde respected Rook’s rules.
We passed each night in each other’s arms, making love every way possible. I’d have to revise my answer to Mariska, because he did occasionally hold me down and fuck me hard from behind. It was rough and violent, and I usually felt it the next day. Those were also the nights I came the hardest and glowed the longest, so I guess I was as twisted as he was.
He’d always hold me close to his chest after, his hands soothing me from my stomach to my breasts. He would hold my jaw and kiss me, and I loved his possessiveness. I loved that before falling asleep, he would always check my palm for the tiny heart hidden there.
One night as I lay hugged against him, he held it up and placed his palm against mine. I reached out and touched his hand.
“What’s the 21 for?” I’d promised not to ask about his ink, but this one was always in plain sight.
“It was the year my life changed.” I could tell by his tone it hadn’t been a good change.
“Maybe I can make it a 26?”
He opened our palms so he could run his thumb over my little heart. “I want this instead. I want them to line up when we do this.” I watched him put our hands together again. “Then I want to tell you everything.”
My heart jumped at that statement. “Name the day, and we can run over to White Lotus. I’m friends with the owner.”
“Is that where you did yours?”
Nodding, I smiled, and he rolled me onto my back. His face hovered inches above mine, and he looked deep into my eyes. “I love you, Kenny.”
Nothing kept us apart when he said that.
Before going to the gym the next morning, we hopped in Henry and drove to the tattoo shop. Wren was there, and she was happy to let us use her spare gun in the back room. She wore a black tank and Love Hurts/Love Heals was on full display.
“I really love your ink,” I said, tracing my finger over one of the curled waves, thinking of our conversation at the gym.
She smiled and passed me two sheets of paper. “He needs to fill out all the usual forms, and I should probably have you pay me something small. A few bucks we can call rent in case anybody ever questions us.”
“Of course!” I took the paperwork and handed it to Slayde. “Whatever you need just let me know.”
“I’m only thinking about it because it’s that time of the month.” My mouth dropped, and she laughed. “When I do my bookkeeping, I mean. Although it makes me as cranky as PMS.”
I laughed too. “We’ll be out of your hair in less than ten minutes. I’m just doing something small.”
She stood and walked over to Slayde, checking out the boxing gloves on his bicep. “That’s some good work. You a boxer?”
“Ex.” He glanced up as he filled out the forms.
“I’ve seen this before.” She pointed to five dots on his right hand.
His eyes flickered to hers, but he didn’t answer.
Wren didn’t say any more, and I took his hand in mine. “Ready to get it done?” He glanced up, and my smile held all the love I felt for him.
He looked down and shook his head. “Yeah, I’ve got this all filled out.”
“Come on then.” I pulled his arm, and he handed the forms back to Wren, who now eyed him with suspicion.
Once we were in the back, I spoke softly as I prepped my workspace. “Sorry about that. You know how it goes. Everybody wants to talk about their ink.”
His lips pressed together and he put his hand on my cheek. “This one is for us. It always will be no matter what happens.”
I held a piece of tracing paper on my palm. “Outline it for me so I can be sure they match.”
He took the black felt pen I had and quickly outlined the small heart. I took it and held his hand. “Mine is on the left, so yours should be on the right.” Holding his palm flat, I wiped it several times with an antiseptic pad before transferring the design to his palm. “Now it’s just a matter of filling it in.”
“You know I’ve done this before, right?” He grinned, and I laughed.
“I don’t know why I do that.” Shaking my head, my long purple ponytail danced around my shoulders. “I guess it’s a habit.”
He reached out and caught the ends of my hair, wrapping a lock around his finger. “Better hurry up or Rook’s going to be pissed.”
Leaning forward, I kissed him quickly before getting started. In less than ten minutes we were done.
Slayde went straight to the supply closet when we arrived at the gym, then headed to the men’s locker room. His new ink only needed a small Band-Aid. It was tiny and I was a light touch, so it wouldn’t take long to heal. Still, I made him wear a surgical glove while working.
Rook was at the juice bar when I finished with my last client, and he was pissed. Only it wasn’t at us. The tanker had arrived in port, and the gym had been slammed all day with sailors taking advantage of the complimentary membership.
“Fuck, how long are these assholes in port?” He’d stormed into the juice bar speaking under his breath.
“Just a few days,” Mariska said, making notes in her recipe book. “I’ll make you a cucumber and ginger-root smoothie. It’ll help you relax.”
“They don’t speak the language, they take breaks on the equipment, and they leave towels everywhere.”
“Your Type A is acting up,” my friend teased. “I think they’re nice.”
I ducked under
the bar, hoping to diffuse the situation. “Why don’t you take off? We can handle these guys.”
He glanced at me. “I might. Tammy’s been doing double classes, and I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a week.”
My lips pressed together as I tried to hold back my laugh. “Dude. Go home and fuck your wife. You know that’s why you’re so tense.”
Everything went quiet for a beat. Mariska held her breath. Then Rook exploded with a laugh.
“Shit, Kenny.” He jerked my ponytail and headed back into his office. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“We don’t have to discuss it!” I called after him. “I finally got those images out of my head.”
He was gone a few minutes later, and Mariska fell on me laughing. “You’ve got balls the size of Texas, girl!”
We both laughed harder. “What’s the point of catching them twice if I can’t give him a hard time about it?”
My gorgeous guy appeared around the corner then. “You two kittens are having way too much fun. What’s up?”
“You are very sexist.” I leaned forward to capture his lips.
“Thanks,” he smiled, kissing me back. Then he frowned. “Oh, wait, you said sex-ist? I thought you said sexy.”
“You’re that too, Spinal Tap.” I dropped back off the bar. “How’s it going out there?”
“Overcrowded, but we can handle it.” He took my hand and placed our palms together. I loved it. “I’m going to have to clean the locker room twice.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Want me to help you?”
“I would never want you to do that.” He laced our fingers, and I thought about the two little hearts mirroring each other.
“I don’t mind,” I said softly. Never in my life had I been so completely and fully blissed out with happiness. It radiated in my toes.
Just then Pete called Slayde, and he kissed my hand before heading back to the weight room. “We’re going to talk tonight.”
“Okay,” I nodded, anticipation hot in my chest.
“I’m trying not to hate you two,” Mariska said once he was gone, but her giggle gave her away.
“You’ve got a lot of room—” I ducked out from behind the bar, but my words were cut off as two men strode through the glass doors.
It took me a second to register Patrick and Derek standing in the lobby of The Jungle Gym, completely out of context.
“Patrick?” I was confused, and I was pretty sure Mariska fainted.
“Hey, babe.” Patrick caught me in his usual rough hug, but he wasn’t smiling.
Derek waited, hands on his hips. He was a mountain of intimidating sex on two legs, blue eyes like steel. In typical form, I had no clue what to say to him. They were obviously here on a job. All at once, the realization of what it had to be slammed into me like a medicine ball.
“I need to know if you were working about a week ago,” he said. “I think it was a Wednesday afternoon?”
“Oh, Patrick.” I cringed with the guilt. I’d given up trying to call him about Stuart at Mariska’s urging, but if something had happened to his brother… “I’m so sorry.”
Patrick’s expression grew more serious. “Why are you sorry? What happened?”
Mariska charged ahead, gripping the counter and practically crawling across it. “Is he okay? Tell me he’s okay!”
Patrick’s confused eyes moved to my friend. “I’m pretty sure he’s okay—are we all talking about Stuart?”
I started to breathe again. “Oh, thank God. Yes.”
Mariska collapsed against the wall as well, but Derek was impatient. “I’ll step out and call Nikki, let her know he was here. Looks like we’re only getting started.”
He disappeared out the double-glass doors just as a voice I loved joined us. “Kenny? What’s going on?” Slayde stopped beside me, but his eyes were on Patrick.
“Slayde,” I said quickly, “This is Patrick. Lane’s dad.” Just as fast, I completed the circle. “Patrick, this is Slayde Bennett.”
“Oh, sure,” Patrick said. “So you’re the guy who’s dating my baby-mamma.”
I was pretty sure I’d die on the spot, but Patrick wasn’t through. He stood a little straighter, pulling his shoulders back. “Just so you know, punk, you hurt her, and—”
“Let me guess.” Slayde cut him off, pulling his own shoulders back. “You’ll rip my throat out and shove it up my ass.”
Again, silence filled the juice bar. This time I’d forgotten how to breathe.
Until Patrick laughed. “Good guess. How did you know?”
I almost collapsed, but Slayde slipped his hand into mine, lacing our fingers. “I heard the warning the first night I met her.”
I looked up at him, speaking softly. “It wasn’t for you.”
“Let me clock out,” he said, kissing the back of my hand.
I smiled and watched him step around to the office. Once he was gone, I looked up at Patrick. His hazel eyes twinkled. “Damn, girl, you are so beautiful in love.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I groaned.
“It’s okay if I say that, right? Because you are seriously glowing right now.”
My cheeks were hot. “Will you knock it off? What’s going on with your brother?”
His expression became serious. Derek rejoined us as Patrick explained. “He came back from Saudi a few weeks ago. He was running the Princeton office when Nikki, our office manager there, called and said he’d disappeared. Just went off the grid. I tracked a credit card transaction that led us here. Did he come to see you?”
“He did.” I racked my brain trying to remember everything that happened that day, every word we said. “He was okay, but he seemed very focused—not in a good way.”
Patrick’s lips tightened. “Was his behavior in any way erratic or threatening?”
My eyes widened slightly. “Not at all. He gave me a medal… he said it was your dad’s? He wanted me to keep it for Lane.”
Patrick’s face blanched, but Mariska jumped in, “He said he was going to your uncle’s!”
Both men turned to her. “What exactly did he say?” Derek’s deep voice was so serious, it made me afraid.
My friend was equally concerned. “He said it was out west, but he didn’t get specific. Somewhere he could breathe?”
“I know where he is.” Patrick seemed to relax a bit, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed Slayde returning to join us.
But something was wrong.
He was smiling until his eyes landed on the new addition to our group. At the sight of Derek, everything changed. It was as if he’d seen a ghost or something worse—something terrible. He leaned heavily against the wall.
“Slayde?” I started to go to him, but Derek cut me off.
“What the HELL are you doing here?” Anger flared in his deep voice, hotter than his concern for Stuart.
His sudden rage made me pause. My heart beat too hard; it made my arms and legs weak. I’d never seen Slayde like this, and Derek was seething.
Slayde appeared to be in shock. “I got out. They let me go on—”
“Of course they did.” Derek’s voice was disgusted. “Murderers always get out, don’t they?”
“It was an accident—”
“The ‘Slayer Death Attack’ is no fucking accident. It’s a trained fight move.”
His words were like a foreign language to me—one I didn’t want to understand. Murderer? Slayer Death Attack?
“It was a long time ago,” Slayde’s voice was flat. “I was out of control.”
I tried to approach my love. I was afraid, and I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to be okay, but Derek snatched my arm, jerking me back. “What are you doing?”
It was so sudden and violent, Patrick stepped forward, touching his shoulder. “Easy, partner. What’s this about?”
“Are you with him?” Derek’s grey-blue eyes flashed from me to Slayde. “Don’t you fucking know who she is?”
Slayde looked at me, but he was crumbling. I could see it—as if he knew the answer before it was given. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Who… is she?”
Derek stepped in front of me, his tall form and broad shoulders creating an unwanted shield between the man I loved and me. His voice was pure judgment.
“She’s the widow of Blake Woods. The man you beat to death five years ago outside a bar in Princeton—”
Slayed doubled over. His fist went to his mouth, and those pale blue eyes met mine with such anguish. He stood up fast, pushing through the glass doors out of the gym. The noise of his abrupt departure echoed in my ears, but my heart had stopped.
My vision clouded over, and I couldn’t seem to move. Everything was falling apart, shattering with my insides into a million pieces. Confused, I tried to look up at Derek, but I was blinded by his words.
“Why did you say that?” I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning in the answers my brain was fighting to reject.
Patrick was with me, scooping me into his arms. “Hold on, Ken. I’ve got you.”
Mariska’s voice was far away. “I don’t understand. What just happened?”
Derek answered her slowly. “Five years ago I helped put Slayde Bennett and his accomplice Stitch Alana away for the second-degree murder of Blake Woods and Max Marconi.”
He paused for a moment before driving the meaning home. “Blake was Kenny’s husband.”
It was the last thing I heard before my world went black.
27
“I am the architect of my own destruction.”
Slayde
Five years ago...
Stitch was on his fifth beer, and I’d finished my fourth shot of whiskey. It wasn’t working. Bitterness smoldered in my chest, ready to ignite. With every breath the burn grew stronger.
“They fuckin’ invited Compton.” My jaw was clenched. “He fights like he’s on fuckin’ Quaaludes.”
“Fuckers are scared,” my friend said. “They passed you over because they know you’ve got more talent than all those assholes. They’re afraid of losing their careers.”