Since he was already looking a retched mess, Allie decided to abstain from any smart-ass comments about being alone with him. Didn’t mean they weren’t floating around her head, though. “Sure.”
Adam led her down the hall, past the security desk, and back to an employee’s only lounge.
When he shut the door both their voices rose at once.
“I’m sorry—”
“What the hell—”
The ghost of a smile curved his lips and his eyes warmed with a little of their normal, Adam glow. “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m a real shit-eater, okay!” His hands flew above his head, filled the confines of linoleum and plastic chairs. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I don’t know what you were thinking, either.” She narrowed her eyes at him, though honestly, she’d forgiven him the second she’d seen him. The A-hole.
“I know, Allie.” He started to walk toward her and then stopped, mouth clamping up like a trap.
“You know I don’t feel that way about you, Adam.” She hated saying that to him. Sucked watching the way those words pierced through him every time.
“I know”— his face paled—“I know.” He paused to chew his bottom lip. Allie watched the wheels turning while he buoyed himself up for something. “You know I’m in love with you, right? You’ve gotta know that. Have been for years.”
She dropped her eyes to her tangling fingers.
Shit.
“I know,” she managed to whisper.
“I know you don’t feel that way about me . . . but, I just had to tell you. Just once. This shit with dad has messed with my head. People don’t have forever.”
“Uh, huh.” She shook her head, arms crossing. “So you thought you’d make your big reveal by attacking my face?”
Red flames licked up Adams neck and face. “Guess I got a little overzealous.”
Raised eyebrows to that one. Understatement of the year? “Uhh, yeah. You did.”
“Allie. I’m sorry.” A long, dark finger jabbed his chest. “Shit-eater for life, 'kay.”
Her foot tapped over a peeling section of flooring as she let out a big sigh. “I didn’t come here to make you grovel, Adam. It’s over. But things are different now. Between us. It’s weird.”
At that Adam dragged a hand over his face. “I know! I messed up. Bad.”
Adam would always be her oldest friend. Feeling sympathy well up in her chest for him, she allowed a small smile to curve her lips. “S’okay. We just need to find someone for you. Maybe Lainie’s available again?”
At that Adam’s nose curled halfway up his face. “Holy hell. That girl would eat my lunch!”
Allie felt her laughter come natural. Things might be weird, but the boy would always have a permanent residence in her heart. With the crap from the other night out of the way, Allie decided to get on with her real purpose. “Ah, Adam. Got a question for you.”
A dark brow inched up his forehead. “Okay. Shoot.”
“What do you know about PTSD?”
“Um, a little. Why? You having problems since those assholes attacked you?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! No! I’m fine . . . I’ve been fine. I just . . . well, what would you say a normal case is like?”
“I dunno”—his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face—“it varies person to person. You want to tell me what all this is about? Didn’t think Jeopardy! was your thing? Or are you gonna keep playing up the whole, random question angle?”
Allie caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uhh.” She didn’t want Matthew brought into it if she could. Had a feeling he wouldn’t like his dirty laundry aired in front of the guy who he’d given a beat down to a few days ago. “I’m asking for a friend of mine who was in the military.”
Adam’s face clouded with instant thunder. “Oh. You mean the new BF.”
Well, crap. “Yeah. How can you tell he’s military?”
Adam snorted, crossing his arms as he popped a hip against the small, laminate countertop that held a microwave. “Serious, Allie? That guy was rocking the whole Rambo vibe. Dude’s got a stick so far up his ass I could see it when he opened his mouth.”
“Be nice,” she glowered.
Adam’s mouth pursed and Allie heard his molars grind together. “Explains the two-second fuse,” he said slowly. He looked down into Allie’s face and she saw it wash with worry. “Dude. You want to be careful if it’s really PTSD. Especially military. He could get violent.”
“I’m trying to help him. But I feel way out of my league here. He’s tried to get help before, but said his doctor just doped him up.”
Adam nodded. “Meds are common, Allie. Nothin’ wrong with it.”
“He hated it, Adam!” Allie felt her eyes prick with tears and she cleared her throat to get rid of the wobble in her voice. “I need to know if there’s any alternative.”
“Don’t know how severe he is. Might be he’s gonna have to use some kind of drug. Vets with PTSD are under a lot of stress. Most can’t sleep, which only adds fuel to the fire. Sometimes drugs are the only way to go until you get the real problem fixed.” When Allie’s face crumpled, he added, “But look, when I did my residency at the hospital, I had some buddies who were on the VA wing. I knew a cool guy who could probably help. Young doc. He was more into therapy than meds. Lemme look up his number and I’ll text it to you, ‘kay?”
“Thanks, Adam.”
His face darkened then and he stepped close enough that Allie had to crank her head clear back to look up at him. “And, Allie?” his voice was whisper quiet. “Be careful. This guy of yours ain’t no stray puppy you can nurse back to health. If you feel like your safety is threatened: Get. Out.”
Allie nodded and pulled the turtleneck she was using to camouflage her black and blue neck up to the bottom of her chin. “Sure, Adam. Of course.”
***
Okay. So the easy part was done. Now she just had to confront the merc with some kind of intervention thing.
Shit on a turtle. This was going to suck.
Most likely Matthew was going to be pissed at her for meddling. But, damn it, he needed help and she cared too much about him to do nothing. Sometimes the hardest part of recovery was asking for help. She just hoped he’d talk to her again after.
As she entered the PPMS building, walking on legs turned to water, her head was a continuous screaming loop of “shit, shit, shit.” Those big girl pants of hers were feeling a little threadbare at the moment.
One of the stega-steroid guys looked up at her as she approached his desk. A pair of electric blue eyes narrowed at her, standing out like a couple of neon signs in his olive face and dark brown, short-cropped hair. He seemed to be one of the more frightening goons Matthew had employed. The faded pink scars running down the side of his jaw and neck didn’t help much either.
“Somethin’ I can do fer y’all?” His rich, Tennessee twang somehow rolled the sentence into a threat.
She cleared her throat. “I’d like to see Matthew Lynch, please?” Where had the Minnie Mouse voice come from?
“And you are?” He arched a brow.
“Allison Young.”
His eyes widened and raked her head to foot, looking for a third eye or a horn or something. “Uh, huh.” The goon stood up and wrapped a set of bulging arms across his chest. Holy cow, he dwarfed her! “Well, Miss Young, seems like you’re not to be allowed on PPMS premises.”
Allie felt he mouth pop open. “W-what?” she stuttered. “Since when?”
“Since this mornin’, ma’am. I’m ta escort y’all out of the building if I see you. Sorry bout that.”
Still in shock, she glared up at the goon, her thoughts turning to Matthew. That . . . ass!
Eyeballing Allie like he expected her to throw herself on the floor and kick and scream he walked around the side of the desk. “Y’all need me to call a cab?”
“No.” Asshole! “I don’t,” she muttered mulishly. Of all the asinine . . . she spun on her hee
l and huffed out the front of the building, hands shaking as her purse got caught in the door. “Mother . . . assmunch!” She jerked her purse free and then stomped her foot—a little girly, but, damn it! The jerk had banned her from the building!
“Allison?” A feminine voice floated to her over the cursing. Allie whirled around to see the willowy figure of Stacy Lynch, Matthew’s super model sis-in-law, coming out of the building.
Did she have to be so knock-down gorgeous? Maybe just a zit or two on her perfect nose? Allie felt like toilet paper in comparison on the heel of her—holy smokes!—were those Louboutins clattering toward her? The blood red bottoms of the heels gave them away and she cringed.
Shit, again. Allie so didn’t have a prayer of measuring up.
Stacy stopped in front of her, a delicate hand fluttering over her heaving chest. She must have been in a rush to catch up. When she finally caught her breath she asked, “You’re Allison? Matthew’s Allison?”
Uhh, maybe? “Kind of.”
Stacy, though manicured and buffed to perfection, hit Allie with one of the most genuine smiles she’d ever seen. “Oh! I’m so happy to meet you!” She was suddenly all over Allie’s personal space, hugging the life out of her. When she pulled back, her smile had upped its wattage even more. “You have no idea how happy I am to see Matthew with someone!” Her eyes ran all over Allie—made her want to adjust something—strike that—made her wish she had forty-eight hours to prepare for this moment. Brush her teeth again at the least.
“And you’re beautiful, of course,” Stacy continued. “In the most perfectly girl-next-door kind of way. Just Matthew’s type.”
Ooookay. “Uh, thanks?”
“So, were you meeting Matthew?” Stacy quickly linked arms with Allie as if they’d been BFF’s for years. Allie had never been into the whole touchy, feely stuff, so it was a job not to jerk away. Not that she figured Stacy would have noticed. The girl took happy-go-lucky to a whole new level. She’d seem like a ditz if not for the intelligence that flashed in her eyes as she looked Allie over for the fifteenth time.
Allie shook her head to gather her wits. “Actually, I don’t know what’s going on with him. I just found out he’s banned me from the building.”
That stopped Stacy in her tracks.
“What happened?”
Oh, geeze. What to say to that one?
“He, uh. We . . .” Stacy was looking back at her, thin eyebrow cocked. Spit it out already, Allie! “I stayed over and he . . . uh . . . had a problem. A bad dream, actually. He didn’t handle it well.” Man, if Matthew found out who all she’d blabbed to, he really would strangle her.
“Ah.” Stacy’s face fell. “A flashback?”
Of course Stacy would be familiar with PTSD if her husband had been in the same platoon as Matthew. Allie dropped her eyes to the pavement while her fingers worked on unraveling the string of fabric from the cuff of her shirt sleeve.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“But, you’re okay?” Stacy’s eyes roamed all over her again, taking a better look at Allie’s long sleeves and high collar.
“It got . . . a little intense. But he stopped.”
Stacy turned to face her fully. “Allison—”
“Just Allie’s fine.”
“Allie.” A small smile lit her lips. “I like that.” She nodded. “Allie, I’ve got to be frank with you. Matthew’s special to me. He’s like a brother. When my husband died”—a shudder cracked apart her happy demeanor and gave Allie a small glimpse of the pain hiding beneath all her perfection—“it was hard. Really hard. And Matthew took care of me and the boys. Still does, in fact. Matthew doesn’t talk about what happened to Jay”— Allie sucked in some air. Jay was his brother? Holy. Shit.—“since we all watched that coffin roll down the tarmac at the Air Force Base Matthew’s been different. Numb. He’s cut himself off from everyone, including his family. He’d cut himself off from me too, but I’m good at being the pain in his butt he can’t ignore.” She laughed a little at that. “We’ve all been worried about him. His parents have been sick. But . . . when I saw him a few days ago, it was like some part of him has been resurrected; and the only explanation I have for the change is you.”
Stacy’s honesty was barefaced, but Allie liked it. Made her chest swell with the hope that things between her and Matthew could be salvaged.
“So,” Stacy chirped as her hands clapped together. “What do you say we go back inside and figure out this whole banning silliness?”
As Stacy approached the front desk, blazing with hellfire and damnation Allie noticed with a well of satisfaction that the scary goon guy behind it shriveled up like a prune in the sun.
“Jon McCarty. Who do you think you are, kicking this girl out?”
Jon had been reduced to twitching limbs under Stacy’s dainty glair. “Sorry, ma’am. Just followin’ orders from Mr. Lynch.”
“Don’t you go all Mr. Lynch on me, Jon. This is Matthew’s girl. Why would he ban her from the building?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
Stacy got right up in Jon’s face with one tiny, perfectly formed French tip. It gave the illusion that David was about to put the beat down all over Goliath. “Well, I don’t know either.”
Jon’s eyes crawled all over the main floor, looking for some kind of goonish backup, but the place had quickly vacated a few minutes too late to save him.
“So where is Mr. Lynch, then?”
“He’s gone for the rest of the day. Overseeing an install.”
“And when will he be back?”
“He won’t. Not till the mornin’, ma’am.” Jon was practically slinking up the back of his chair by this point.
“And where will he be tonight?”
“He’s scheduled to fight tonight.” Jon paused when Allie sucked in a breath, and those electric blue eyes settled on her. “At the UMMA,” he finished.
“And what on earth is the UMMA?” Stacy asked.
Allie’s throat had turned to dust while her fingers transformed into ice. “It’s a Mixed Martial Arts fight club. I know where it is,” she whispered.
Chapter twenty
“You’d really have thought Matthew would have chosen a nicer place to hang around.” Stacy’s voice dripped distaste as she pulled her coat up around her throat and curled her nose.
Allie figured Stacy didn’t slum it often. She seemed the kind to prefer the comforts of a local five star country club or day spa. Everything about her suggested she came from money; her very posture implied years of affluent upbringing. It was a wonder she’d met someone like Jayce in the first place.
The alleyway that had been the start of so much loomed at their side. A steady breeze rushed off the narrow brick walls, kicked up old wrappers and bits of debris before it nipped at the bottom of Allie’s jeans and sent shivers up her legs.
Stepping closer to Stacy, she shuddered. “At least we have muscle with us.”
Said muscle followed behind as they entered the UMMA. Jon was dressed casual to blend in with the others, in jeans and a tee. He’d come along grudgingly—actually, he’d been forced by Stacy; there had been nothing willing about it.
While less than thrilled to be babysitting a couple of girls, Jon looked like a cat in the middle of the canary shop as he took in the surroundings, cracking his knuckles like he wanted nothing more than to get in the ring himself.
Knowing Matthew would throw a clot if she and Stacy had tried to come alone—ornery ass that he was—Allie was happy to have Jon along.
The arena was packed, just like it had been that first night she’d come, humid with sweat and too many bodies. The floor rumbled from the base of the huge speakers on the floor, while Tupac’s voice pounded above the octagon. Allie stared at the cage as a shiver ran through her body. The mat was already stained with blood in spots.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever get the appeal of MMA.
When they hit a wall of bodies, Jon barreled into them like he was parting th
e Red Sea, while Stacy and Allie followed in his wake. A small hand grasped onto Allie’s and she looked down into Stacy’s wary face. Tiny as she was, it would be far too easy for her to be swallowed by the crowd.
They were making their way toward the fighter’s locker rooms when a booming voice cut off the hard rap music and the merc was announced, followed by a wild roar from the crowd.
Allie stopped and tugged Stacy’s hand. “That’s Matthew,” she shouted over the raucous.
“The merc?” Stacy shouted back. “That’s a little dramatic.” Her curly head shook back and forth.
“Don’t think Matthew came up with it.”
“What?” Stacy shouted again.
“Never mind.” Allie shook her head and followed after Jon.
They found a free spot to stand while the fight got ready to begin. Stacy looked close to being drowned by the wave of people, but the tilt of her chin, as well as her stance, gave her an attitude that made up the inches she lacked in the height department.
Tougher than she looked, for sure.
“Have you ever seen Matthew fight?” Allie asked to fill the time and draw her nerves into submission.
“Mm, hmm,” Stacy nodded with a glint to her eye, her mouth curling up like the Cheshire cat. “Poor guy, whoever has to fight him. Matthew and Jay used to box in our basement. Jay was a great fighter, but Matthew was something else. Jay could rarely land a blow that Matthew didn’t block.”
It was weird to imagine married life with someone so . . . charged with testosterone. It had to have been a dream come true when Jayce and Stacy had their two little boys. What better gift for a dad than to have some little Mini Me’s to throw around? Though, as she thought of the tender moments she and Matthew had shared, she could imagine a tough dad having a little girl would be heaven, too. Allie’s chest suddenly filled with sorrow for Stacy and she instinctually squeezed her hand a little tighter.
Stacy’s answering smile cut off when Matthew entered the octagon and the crowd’s roar cranked up to a deafening decibel level.
Paler than when last she’d been with him, and his eyes were swallowed by heavy shadows. His hair was a wild tangle over his head, scruff over his jaw giving him the brutality of a Viking.
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