by Cari Quinn
“Don’t expect me to explain what men think, because I can’t.” I gripped her chin and lifted her head until we were eye-to-eye. “What’s going on with you and Giovanni?”
“Nothing. What happened to you last night?” she countered.
“I…I don’t know, exactly.” I rubbed my thumb over the dent in her chin and let go. Strong-arming her had never worked before, and I didn’t even know if I was correctly pegging her behavior as off when my own was so very fucked up. “I hit the guy. Decked him. He hit the floor.”
“Wow, Ame.” She picked up my right hand. It was only then that I noticed the knuckles were puffy and bruised. Flexing my fingers hurt, but the pain hadn’t even gotten through until now. “You should wrap this up.”
“Yeah. I should.”
She sighed and gently placed my hand on the blanket. “You didn’t even notice the pain, did you?”
“No,” I admitted.
How could I, when sometimes it felt like my entire body was a morass of wounds and aches? I didn’t even have the excuse of fighting anymore, though I continued to train pretty hard. My regime wasn’t as intense as it had been when I’d been active on the circuit, but it was close.
She sighed again, shaking her head.
“Giovanni got us out of the club. I guess those guys are dangerous. Fits, since they had guns.” Her gasp made me close my eyes. Great. I was scaring her even more. “I didn’t argue with him, didn’t say a word as he drove us back here. Tray was worried, and I wanted to let him know I was okay but it was like I’d forgotten how to speak.”
Carly was quiet for a while. “Ame, you need to tell your therapist.”
I nodded without opening my eyes. I’d already come to that conclusion. I didn’t like it, but I knew I had no choice. Taking the chance that I’d check out at the absolute worst time when the people I loved were involved was a risk I refused to take.
Lightly, she cupped my battered hand between both of hers. “I can come with you,” she said hesitantly. “If you want me to.”
The tears were back, squeezing out between my lashes. They embarrassed me, but I refused to hide anything else from my sister. “You would do that?” I asked, voice hoarse.
“Sure. I’d do whatever would make this easier for you.” I opened my eyes to find her chewing on her lower lip while she stared at my hand. “You’ve shouldered so much of this alone. Fox helps.”
“Yes,” I whispered. Words weren’t enough to describe how much he’d helped me just by staying at my side. By holding me and taking care of me when I wasn’t strong enough to do it for myself.
I’d never had that luxury before.
“He’s an amazing guy, and I’m so glad you have him. But I’m an adult now too.” Her chin came up, pride etched in every line of her beautiful face. “I can handle it, Ame. Even if, you know, you talk about it. The details of what happened years ago.” Her eyes shined. “It’ll hurt me, and I’ll probably cry, but I swear to you, I can take it. I can be your shoulders for a little while.”
“I never wanted you to know.” I bowed my head, shame making my voice shake. “Protecting you was all that kept me alive.”
“Now you have other reasons.” She brushed at my tears, her fingers as gentle as her tone. “He would die for you.”
Tears streaming, I nodded. I knew that more than I knew what name I was using today. What persona would greet me when I met my eyes in the mirror.
Tray was more real to me than myself.
“You have to stop hiding it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me? Absolutely nothing.” She wrapped her arm around me and tugged me to her chest, as if she was the older sister. And I went, because I guess hadn’t used up my allotment of needing to be coddled yet. “You’ve been nothing but strong, and brave, and invincible. But eventually, Supergirl, you gotta take off the cape.”
“I don’t know how.” Except I did. Last night, I’d shed everything. Without planning, without thought. All my armor had just dropped.
“Yes, you do.” She sniffled and kissed the top of my head. “Let the dude carry you over a few puddles for a change. He carried you last night, and oh my God, it was so hot. Seriously. If he wasn’t my almost brother-in-law, I would’ve jumped on that in a hot minute.” She gave me a watery grin when I looked up. “After he set down the semi-unconscious girl, of course.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I wasn’t unconscious. I could hear everything. I just couldn’t bring myself to respond.” Before she could reply, I sighed and rubbed the heels of my hands over my damp cheeks. “I know it’s not good. I know I have to tell the doc, and maybe even listen when she gives me a course of treatment.”
Like medication. She’d suggested anti-depressants in the past, but I’d refused them. I didn’t want to be a zombie.
I also didn’t want to keep fighting every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I wanted some peace. And if I’d find a measure of it in a vial, then maybe the strongest move I could make was taking that step. Admitting that I couldn’t do it on my own.
God knows I’d tried for so fucking long.
“We’ll go together,” Carly decided, rising. “Make the appointment.” She bent and grabbed my crumpled jeans, tossing them into my lap with a grin. “Get dressed. I’m going to take a shower then I’ll make us some foodage. Feel like waffles?”
“With strawberries and honey?”
Her grin broadened in spite of the bruises under her eyes. In them. “Well, lookee there, I just happened to get some fresh last night.” The bathroom door clicked shut behind her.
Fisting my hands around my tangled panties and jeans, I debated getting dressed. Instead I tossed my clothes aside to grab Tray’s laptop from the coffee table.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed in the words Olivia Latimer and the name of my hometown in Georgia. My heartbeat thudded painfully in my ears while I waited for something—anything—to come up. She was probably just his wife. Why did it matter now? All these years removed…
There were a ton of Olivia Latimers, and none of them popped as anything unusual. RNs being lauded for service to the public, the occasional human interest bit. Nothing that made me click further. I searched through two pages, and sighed, wondering why I was wasting time when I should be cleaning up the apartment and oh, calling my therapist to set up an emergency session.
The shower turned off in the bathroom. Carly took epic showers, so I’d obviously been fruitlessly digging for longer than I thought. I was about to close the window when an article from almost five years ago caught my eye.
Settlement in Missing Persons case reaches three million dollars.
Biting my lip, I clicked on the link and started to read the short article. I read it again when the words blurred.
My aunt Patty’s name was mentioned. And Darren’s. And someone I took to be his widowed wife. Her name was Eloisa, not Olivia. Amelia—aka me—wasn’t mentioned because I was an underage trauma victim. A load of crap, that, because my name had been mentioned a million times in the rags by that point.
What I couldn’t make sense of was the fact there had been a civil suit, one that had been resolved a couple of years after Darren’s death. One I had not been a part of, or even made aware of.
And the settlement had reached Three. Million. Dollars.
My face flushed and my fingers cramped around the edges of the laptop. This didn’t make any sense. I had to be misreading the article. Aunt Patty had lived in a modest home. Carly had said she’d started making a few upgrades after I’d moved out, but nothing outrageous.
How could I not know if I was a millionaire?
Because you’re not, dummy. She is. She took the money in your name.
My past telegraphed through my mind like a bad movie. Scrapping for every dollar to afford New York City rents. Falling to my knees in the back of the bar to suck off a guy for twenty bucks so I’d have enough to eat that week. Squirreling away what money I d
id have for Carly’s future, so she could go to college. I’d stopped taking online classes myself so I could save for her. What I wanted didn’t even rate when it came to providing for my baby sister.
And we’d both been conned. Fucking ripped off in the worst way possible.
I shoved the laptop aside with shaking hands and gripped my jeans, bringing them to my face so I could smell traces of Tray’s aftershave. His scents were always all over me, and I needed that link more than ever.
It took everything I possessed not to call him. I didn’t even know what I’d say. I couldn’t make sense of any of this. There had to be some explanation. Aunt Patty and I had never had any love lost between us, but she was my father’s sister. She claimed to love Carly. But if she did, how could she not have set any money aside for Carly to go to school?
How could she have profited from my complete decimation?
Somehow I managed to pull on my panties and jeans. Carly would be out of the bathroom any moment now. Even she only primped so long. And I had a call to make. A couple of calls, actually, but only one right now.
Before what was left of my sanity shattered.
Swallowing hard, I dug out my cell and pressed the sixth number on speed dial. “Hello, this is Mia Anderson. I need an emergency appointment.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “As soon as possible.”
10
Tray
It took Giovanni about five minutes to get to the point.
I’d been preoccupied on the way over to The Cage, and I knew he was biting his tongue about Mia. After last night, I couldn’t blame him. If I’d been in a more charitable mood, I might’ve shared something on that score without prompting. Though honestly, what could I say?
She slept all night, then we had incredible silent sex. And God, some sign of my Mia, the one who went underground last night, flickered in her eyes when I was inside her, which means I’d gladly stay right there for the rest of my life.
None of that was for public consumption, especially not with Giovanni. But that didn’t mean he intended to let me remain silent for long.
“We need to talk,” he began when we were about five minutes from the gym.
Even knowing it was coming, I stiffened. I didn’t want to discuss last night. Didn’t want to talk about anything with Costas, period. Yeah, we’d had some sort of a moment of understanding when Mia had gone catatonic, but that had been an extreme circumstance. We weren’t friends. Hell, we were barely acquaintances. All I cared about was my girl. I didn’t have time to circle the wagons with this dude.
“So talk,” I said, staring out the window of his fancy ass truck. Fit the fancy ass people he hung out with at The Pyramid Club. Except their toys had been expensive alcohol, pussy and gleaming firearms.
Toys I was beginning to wonder if Giovanni possessed as well. Well, the last one I was wondering. The first two I’m sure were part of his regular repertoire.
“It’s about Lorenzo.”
I grunted. He was another subject I had no desire to delve into. Knowing I’d have to didn’t make me any more eager.
“I negotiated on your behalf.”
My spine snapped so straight that the seatbelt tightened around me. “Excuse me?”
“Mia’s behalf,” he corrected. “As you hadn’t made it around the table to punch him yet, though I have no doubt you would have.”
“You are correct. Negotiate how?”
He cut me a sharp glance. “You recall what I told you last night?”
“Which part? The part that I had to shadow her, or that—”
“That her life was in danger,” he said quietly, silencing me more effectively than if he’d cocked a gun at my temple.
I stared straight ahead. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not.” His soft certainty sent a chill through my blood, making me cold way down deep. “She had a mark on her head from the moment she walked out of that club last night. You might have as well, by association.”
“Am I supposed to be frightened?” That wasn’t the emotion churning through my gut. Anger, yes. Icy cold resolve, absolutely. But fear? Fuck no.
That slimy bastard and his lynch mob could go to hell, and I’d be happy to send them there.
“No. They enjoy that too much.” His hands gripped the wheel tightly enough that his knuckles whitened. “You’re supposed to be smart. To not lead with your dick and your ego, but your head.”
“I’m not leading with anything yet. I’m sitting here. For now.”
“Fox.” The quelling look he sent me made me lock my jaw. I didn’t need him trying to calm me down. I didn’t need anything from him. Neither did Mia. It was his goddamned fault we’d even met that asshole Lorenzo.
His fault, and yours. He sure didn’t pour the alcohol down your throat.
“I took care of it,” he said when I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. If I tried, there was a good chance I’d launch myself across the seat and ram my fist in his face instead. I owed him a good punch to the eye for what he’d done to me last winter.
Sometimes it took a while to even the score, but I could be patient.
He rolled his neck until it cracked. “Look, I’m not the enemy here.”
“Really? Because you’re not my friend. Not hers. Not anything to us.”
“Perhaps not. But right now, I’m the only thing protecting the woman you love.”
Tapping my bunched fist against my equally tensed thigh, I narrowed my eyes. “You better quit speaking in riddles and get to the goddamn point.”
He flipped on his turn signal and arrowed into The Cage’s parking lot. After sliding into a space far from the building, he turned off the car. “Has she been training?”
“You know she has. You fought with her yesterday.”
He gave a short nod. “Yeah, and she looked good. That doesn’t mean she’s been keeping up with her regular schedule.”
The words she looked good didn’t sound like the assessment of a competitor in my book. To me, they sounded like he’d decided to go for a two-fer with the Anderson sisters. “You better fucking dial it back, or we’re going to have a problem.”
He rolled his eyes at me. Actually rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not interested in her that way. She’s not my type.”
“Right.”
“Are you able to take her on as a client?” he asked, gliding over my objection as if it hadn’t existed. “I know your roster is pretty full.”
“Client for what?” I exploded. “Tell me what the hell you’re suggesting before I suggest my fist meet your face.”
He didn’t roll his eyes this time. Didn’t even glance my way. “They want her to fight.”
“So the fuck what? They have no right to—”
“Trust me, this is the better option all around.” He blew out a breath and finally slid his gaze toward me. “After last night, do you think she’s mentally capable of fighting?”
“Of course. She’s capable of anything. She just checked out for a little while. She’ll be fine.” I had to hope that’d be true.
“Then this is the only option, Fox.”
I remained silent. I had no reason to trust him. No reason to even listen to him. The only prior relationship we had involved him putting me in the hospital and looking at my girlfriend’s sister as if he could give her an orgasm via his eyeballs. Nothing that indicated I should go along with any of his half-assed ideas.
So what if he’d been tolerable last night when I’d been looking to get wasted? Big deal. He’d been cool with the Mia situation too, but a few minutes of decent didn’t wipe out months of douche.
“They like to bet on the fights,” he said, as if that wasn’t obvious. “They’re willing to do whatever it takes to make bank. And they like the thrills. The fact that it’s illegal, for one. That women are involved now too is just a bonus.”
“She doesn’t fight anymore,” I said, cracking my knuckles. Repeatedly.
“She’s going to have to. One fight, Fox. It’s not
going to kill her. Or you,” he added. “She’s skilled, and I know she wants to—”
“You know fuck all about my girlfriend, so shut the hell up.”
“I know that she’s booked to fight a week from now, and if she’s not there, her safety isn’t only in danger. She’s as good as dead.”
Denials heavily laced with curse words clogged in my throat. There was no ignoring the intensity in his gaze. If he was lying, he was a damn good actor. And if I stopped and thought about it, I couldn’t figure out why he’d bother. What did he have to gain from Mia fighting? Assuming she wasn’t going to fight him.
And that wasn’t going to happen. Ever.
“A week,” I repeated. “She hasn’t been training professionally for seven months, and you think I can get her back up to fighting speed in seven days.”
Even as I said it, I knew I was just blowing smoke. Mia hadn’t let up on her training. She’d cut back no more than a workout or two a week. All along, I’d told myself she was just used to the routine. I hadn’t wanted to face the fact that she’d continue to train that hard because she wanted to be ready. Because she missed it.
I hadn’t wanted her back in the ring, so I’d pretended not to see the signs that she yearned to be there.
Then there was the tattoo. Now this. I knew if I told Mia she needed to fight, she might argue strenuously with the reasons why, but she’d never resist getting back in the octagon. I might, but she never would.
“She didn’t seem out of shape to me,” he said, and this time he grinned while I set my teeth. The bastard fucking grinned. “You really are a jealous fuck, aren’t you?”
“No. I just don’t like you.”
“Noted. You need to ditch Evie, and spend that time with Mia. She needs to be ready.”
“What does Evie have to do with this? Even if Mia agrees, I could still—”
“Evie is who she’s going to fight,” he interrupted smoothly, pulling his phone out of the charger as it beeped. He gave it a quick glance and tucked it in the pocket of his track pants. “Hand her off to someone else.”