Fearless

by Maya Rossi

  Raymond, one of his men, quietly edged inside. “Boss?”

  “We’re--”

  “Dad! Leave him, leave him, leave him alone!”

  Raymond blinked. “That can’t be Brayden, is--”

  “Go, he’s fine. Just a bad dream.”

  With Raymond gone, Jack made his way to Brayden’s room on silent feet, knowing what he would find. The bed was empty, the twisted sheets the only indication Brayden slept on it. Jack placed his palm on the sheets, it was cold. If it were anyone else, he would have assumed the worst, but he had witnessed Brayden’s nightmares and sleepwalking too many times to panic.

  Quietly, he moved to the bathroom and pushed the door open. At the corner, far from the bath and under the medicine cabinet, Brayden held court.

  “You killed him!”

  “Mother will be mad at me, oh, oh, oh. Father you killed him.”

  “Benjamin, please, breathe, breathe for me. Open your eyes and everything will be alright. Mother will be happy, she will speak to me again.”

  “Benjamin!”

  What kind of childhood had his friend suffered to hunker in the darkest corner of his room in fear almost every night? Jack walked to the bath and switched it on to fill it. Careful not to make any noise — Brayden had jerked awake in this state once before and slugged him thinking he was an intruder — Jack reached for a bucket wedged into the head of the bathtub. He filled it with water and unceremoniously upended it over Brayden’s head.

  Before he lowered his arm, Brayden was awake. Grabbing a towel, he trudged past Jack. “Thanks.”

  Following his best friend and employer to the bedroom, Jack ran a discrete eye over his body. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes. Can you leave, I need to sleep.”

  “Let me guess, we have a charity thing set up for tomorrow.”

  “Wow, didn’t know you were smart enough to figure out my routine after spending over six years in my employ.”

  Jack chose to ignore the way he emphasized the ‘employ’. This was Brayden going on the defence. “Your father killed Benjamin?”

  Brayden froze while running the towel over his hair. “No.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. S-sometimes, I think I killed him but--”

  “That’s impossible.” Jack reached for Brayden and stopped. “It took years of training to make you stop flinching every time you landed a great punch, remember I nearly used that against you in our bout? No way you killed Benjamin. Your father--”

  “I have a full day tomorrow. And so do you.” Brayden folded the towel and left it on the bedside table. “I need to sleep.”

  But Jack knew he wasn’t getting any sleep until that bathroom was spotless. “Let me get someone to clean up--”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  Frustrated, Jack threw up his hands. “You just said you needed to sleep!”

  “And now, I’m saying I’ll handle it.”

  Jack hesitated, thinking of how to broach the next subject. “So, uh, this hasn’t happened for sometime, do you need me to--”

  “What part of I need to sleep do you not understand?”

  With a resigned sigh, Jack made his way back to the living room. Six months out of the ring, the fans and boxing federation couldn’t wait to have Brayden back in action. And he was not ready. Not if he couldn’t keep his food down or sleep through the night.

  “Rise and shine, princess.”

  When Jack opened his eyes, he wasn’t surprised to find Brayden up early. No sportsman was more disciplined, more determined than Brayden. What many didn’t know was that he owed his dominance of the division to constant training and wilful determination.

  He placed a plate of eggs on a stool and Jack noted he had also put away their game from last night. Brayden cooking was a treat. The man cooked like a chef and ate like a model, throwing up soon after. With a sigh, Jack grabbed the spoon and dug in only for Brayden to take the food away.

  “What?”

  “Go wash your mouth and come back.”

  He noted Brayden was bathed and dressed. Maybe he could keep his breakfast down today. “I wash after I eat, you know that.”

  “Then you’ll just have to do it again.”

  Grumbling, Jack went to do as he was told. When he returned, he found Brayden seated on the couch with his food untouched. He went over to the kitchen to make a special blend of protein shake instead. As expected, the kitchen glowed.

  “If someone from the media visited your home, they would tag you gay for sure.”

  “Why?” Brayden dropped his phone where Jack could bet he was checking up on news and rumors that concerned him. Someone else would think he was vain but Jack knew better.

  “You cleaned the bathroom before you slept, didn’t you? That’s if you slept.”

  “By your logic, men who are neat are gay?”

  Jack shrugged and handed over the protein shake. “The guys I’ve dated, they’re very neat.”

  “I’m pretty sure Garth isn’t one of those guys,” Brayden said, lips twisting in distaste.

  Jack laughed, amused by Brayden’s dislike of his young assistant. To think Brayden was the most tolerant person he knew. “Why do you dislike him so much?”

  “You mean apart from his falsetto voice and dressy shirts?”

  “Raymond’s brother, Ujin wears skirts and you get along pretty well, so that’s not it.”

  “He’s using you.”

  “I don’t want to marry him, Bray.”

  “Oh.”

  Jack shook his head, touched by his concern. “It’s not serious. He’s great in bed, that’s all.”

  “I made a friend yesterday.”

  Raymond stuck his head in, grinning from ear to ear. “The food was great, Bray. If you ever decide to open a restaurant, Ujin will make your apron.”

  “Shut up,” Brayden laughed, “remember to keep your plates exactly the right spot. And don’t wash it.”

  Jack snorted. “You do know he’s happy about that, right?”

  “I’m happier if he doesn’t wash my plates,” Brayden retorted.

  “You said you made a new friend? You do that all the time, Bray. That’s why you have me to look out for--”

  “A girl.”

  “A girl.”

  “A journalist.”

  “A journalist.”

  Brayden replaced his cup, irritated. “Why are you repeating every word I say?”

  “You made friends with a woman, who’s a journalist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Brayden’s full lips curled in a beatific smile. “She’s…terrifying.”

  “Terrifying,” Jack repeated flatly.

  “Very beautiful, curvy--”

  “You want her?” Jack asked, surprised because Brayden had never expressed interest in a woman before. At least not that he knew of. At first, he had thought him gay. But there wasn’t a gay bone in Brayden’s body.

  “Hell, no. She’s different. A fighter, intelligent, loves people, loves sports--”

  “Which kind of journalist?”

  Brayden picked his cup. “Sports.”

  “Ooookk.”

  “It means nothing.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Ava Miller.”

  “Twenty-six,” Jack read from his phone, “beautiful, curvy yes. Brilliant, broke the piece on Gershum, underrated even, very career-driven. Not a good idea, Bray.”

  “Youri likes her.”

  “Youri’s great but he was vulnerable, you’re not.”

  “I didn’t tell you to ask for your approval.”

  “No, you did that so we wouldn’t talk about last night.”

  Brayden rose and took his plates. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You know what’s funny? With one hand, you push your sister--”

  “Stepsister.”

  “Hannah away and reel in a pretty journalist driven to get ahead in her career at any cost with the other hand.”


  “Get dressed Jack, the dogs can’t be kept waiting.”

  ∞∞∞

  The state of the dogs was unreal. Injured, flea-bitten and riddled with lice, they needed all the care they could provide. The shelter was located in a small building deep in the country. It worked well because the dogs could be so easily spooked by noises in the city which would have made life even more difficult for them.

  With the amount of work and funding needed, Brayden soon forgot about the press. Around mid afternoon, he heard Raymond arguing with someone at the entrance.

  “Tell him it’s Ava, come on.”

  In her tucked in white t-shirt and jeans, and her dark brown hair locks tied back in some funky band, Ava looked more like a teenager than a twenty-six-year-old. Ava wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she had a quality that made her shine, made her stand out. It wasn’t her curvy figure or the unusual earrings. It was her personality, larger than life. A fighter.

  Raymond wouldn’t budge. “I’m not telling him anything until you step aside.”

  Without warning, Ava ducked under his outstretched hand and ran over. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he nodded at the fuming Raymond, “he’s mad at you.”

  Ava waved an apology. “See? We’re together.” She pointed at him with a forefinger. “Well, not like together, together, more like…friends. Am I right?”

  She ducked again, covering her eyes with her hand. “Is that your precious Arsenal jersey you’re wearing to murk out stalls, tell me it isn’t so.”

  Brayden smiled. He did that around her a lot; she was just too adorable with her antics. The wrinkled nose, causing the freckles on the bridge of her nose to pop out, and the horrified eyes, it was hilarious. “We’ve talked about this.”

  “Not really and I had no idea you’d feel the need to show your loyalty by wearing the shirt so soon.”

  “Wanted you to get used to it.” Brayden caught her elbows and drew her forward. “Come see this puppy.”

  Ava shuddered. “Tell me he’s at least in a better state than the others?”

  Brayden pointed at a big eyed, sweet goldie. Ava gasped and rushed to the cage where he lay. While they made the rounds, the dog didn’t even lift his head in acknowledgement but now he ran over, tail wagging, tongue rolling.

  He let Ava touch him, licked her fingers and remained close as Brayden dropped to his haunches before them. He watched Ava run her hands down the dog’s back.

  “What are you going to name him?”

  She stiffened. Then jumped backwards and didn’t stop running until the wall stopped her. Their eyes met. Hers were wide and frightened, big gray pools in her white face. As he watched, she forcefully brought herself together. “Jesus, you scared me, why did you speak so close to my ear?”

  “I didn’t take you for a liar.”

  Her shoulders dropped. The dog pushed its face between the bars of the cage, trying to get closer. Ava closed her eyes and turned away. In the next instant, she was running out of the shelter to the field like the gates of hell were at her heels.

  “That your girl?” Jack asked.

  “Not my girl. Even if I were interested, I need someone less… obvious —get me the director, please?”

  Thirty minutes later with all the arrangement concluded, he went in search of Ava. He found her at the edge of the property. With her windswept hair blowing behind her and the stark beauty of her profile, she was like a painting with the building as the backdrop.

  “I love this place.”

  Brayden walked over, caught her hand and led her to the back of the shelter where the view was even better. Ava gasped and ran to the small pond at the end of the garden. “This is amazing, who did this?”

  “Ujin, brother to one of my guards, Raymond.”

  He dropped on a log strategically placed by the side of the pond. A few inches in front of his spread legs, Ava sat on the ground, uncaring if the seat of her jeans were ruined and took off her sandals.

  “Here.” Brayden held his hand out for the sandals.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  His eyebrows flew to his hairline. “I was going to place it right here so you don’t ruin it.”

  Her teeth, almost milky white and small, sank into her lower lip. “Okay.”

  She dipped her feet into the water, breaking the silvery stillness of its surface. The evening breeze drifted in from the south, gently lapping up the sweat from their hard work. Brayden leaned back, stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. Maybe he could buy a property out here, disappear for a few days with nothing but the silence for company.

  “He comes all the way out here, Ujin?”

  “So he said.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  He gave her a side eye. “Almost as much as your bond with that goldie.”

  She grew quiet, drawing her legs through the water in a splash. Brayden left the log and stretched out on the grass. He could almost sleep like this. Lying here by the pond there was nothing to remind him of his past, except for his very self. Brayden opened his eyes and sought out Ava and was surprised to find her watching him.

  “Having trouble sleeping?”

  “A little. How did you know?”

  “I had the same problem while my mother was alive, the bag under the eyes and the sighs.”

  “She’s gone?”

  She nodded.

  “You loved her?”

  “Very much.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She drew her feet out of the water. This close, the water formed silvery droplets over the arch of her foot and dripped into the grass. Like this, she looked nothing like the sophisticated beauty who stood out in a party with some of the most beautiful and famous people around.

  “Your people tipped my friend to cover this rescue.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this what you do, Brayden? Call on media outlets to cover your good deeds?”

  Brayden regarded her steadily to mask his fear. Casually, he drew a finger through the wet skin of her foot. With satisfaction he noted her wide eyes and deeper breaths before she drew her feet away.

  “Answer me.”

  “I don’t have to, I’m under no obligation to do anything. If you want answers, ask nicely.”

  She looked to the water, expression almost sad. “I don’t think you’re a god. Or that you’re perfect like the press portray. I just admire the good you do with your fame. You know my situation at work, when my friend called she just got a tip about a sports personality coming down here, I was skeptical. I hadn’t done this kind of desperate gig since I was just the errand girl. With nothing to do, I checked it out, sure it was a fluke and my friend will call to say, hurry they are at the next stop--”

  “That’s scary. People do that?”

  “Yep, especially reporters starting out, they chase stories.” She shrugged. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here. No way the tip from an ‘unknown source’ wasn’t accurate and no way it wasn’t accurate without help from a member of your camp.”

  Silently, Brayden cursed. Jack was right, as much as he liked Ava, friendship with her was too risky. “Tell me about the goldie.”

  “What goldie?”

  “You wanted the dog desperately, but you left him, why?” Brayden placed his hands behind his head and waited her out.

  She sputtered, rising to her feet to put on her sandals. “I don’t have to answer your questions too, you forget this is what I do for a living, I can just--”

  “You scratch my back, I scratch yours, tit for tat, sweetie.”

  With a low growl, she threw her sandals at him which he caught easily with a low laugh. He stopped when he saw her trembling hands and white face. Cautiously he reached for her hand, directing her to sit on the log. “You don’t have to answer, I’ll let it go.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “What happened to tit for tat?”

  “I don’t have to answer either.”

  Ava studied their hands, his huge, call
used paw ugly against the beauty of her long, silky fingers. He held up her hands. Smooth, manicured and long, it was graceful and beautiful. “You’ve got beautiful hands.”