Axel: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Bry Ann

  I was driving to my hotel in crazy traffic, wishing I was safe in my bed at home. Maybe I shouldgo home. I could beg my parents for forgiveness, and it was not like I hadn’t been punished before. I could handle whatever they dealt out. I went to Seattle to find myself, but what if there was no one left to find, then what was the point? I didn’t belong at home, and I didn’t belong here. At least at home, I wasn’t alone.

  Okay, just go to the hotel, have a seat, and think through what your next move will be. That thought kept me going.

  I pulled up to the Holiday Inn and checked into my room. The minute I walked in, I threw all my clothes out of my bag and put on my pajamas. I’d clean it all up in the morning, hopefully. Cleanliness has never been a talent of mine. The minute I had my PJs on, I crawled into bed.

  It was past eleven, and I could feel the heaviness of my eyelids and the weight of my body. I was aching all over. I was about to fall asleep when my thoughts drifted to the guy from the train. Crap, he told me to text him. I was already snug in my bed and figured I’d text him in the morning.

  It’s not like he was worried.

  Eventually, I fell asleep, and it was the most peaceful sleep I’d had in years. My body felt as light as a feather, and when I woke up the next morning, I felt well rested. I hadn’t felt well rested since I was a little girl.

  It was eleven in the morning when I finally popped out of bed. I smiled to myself as I crawled out of the crisp white sheets. I was alone in the clean, air-conditioned room of an actual hotel in a big city. Holy crap. No one was here. No one was judging me. I wasn’t sure being here was the best option; I had to return my rental car in two weeks. I’d need a job in three weeks. I needed an apartment in two weeks. How was I going to figure all this out and not have a repeat of the prior purse snatching situation? There was just so much to see and do. So much to keep track of. My phone beeped, and I snapped out of my train of thought instantly. I went over to it. It was Brandon.

  Brandon: You alive?

  Me: Yes. Thank you.

  Brandon: You’re sinful, Aly. I can’t believe what you are doing to your parents.

  I bit my lip and threw my phone on the counter. The familiar combination of anger and guilt was boiling at the surface again. I was about to sit there and stew in it when I remembered I was supposed to text that boxer. Still feeling angry and guilty, and all the range of emotions the people from home invoked, I picked up my phone and searched for his number. I scrolled through my short list of contacts until I landed on his: X.

  That was it. It summed him up. Simple, mysterious, and unknown.

  I think he chose that nickname on purpose. It let no one know who he was. Even his name sounded like a threat. That reminded me I needed to Google him. Well, I wanted to Google him.

  Me: Hey, this is Aly from the train. I just wanted to let you know I’m alive and stuff. Thanks for everything.

  His text back came in less than a minute.

  X: HOLY FUCK, GIRL!!!! I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. Why the hell did you not text me yesterday?

  I cringed at X’s use of the F-word, yet somehow knew it suited him. My parents would flip if they knew I was even associating with someone who swore.

  Me: I’m so sorry. I was tired. I didn’t think it would matter if I texted you in the morning. I didn’t mean to worry you.

  Was he worried about me?

  X: I wasn’t worried.

  Brandon: Are you not going to respond to me now? Your lifelong best friend? Or did you meet some new friend at a bar?

  I texted Brandon back first.

  Me: You know what, please don’t text me for a while if this is how you are going to be. I’m 18 and alone and just trying to figure stuff out. I’m coming back. Okay?

  Then I texted X, who, for some reason, I was also angry at, which was probably just a by-product of Brandon.

  Me: Cool, but don’t have me text you and waste my time if you don’t care in the slightest bit if I, as you put it, ‘end up dead in a ditch somewhere’!

  I threw my phone on my bed and ran my hands through my hair. My phone beeped again. I rolled my eyes and climbed on the bed to pick it up. I clicked that familiar green box, and my eyebrows rose when I saw it was X. I expected it to be Brandon texting me back with some guilt-inducing text message.

  X: The coffee shop off 11th and Main. Meet me there in a half hour. It’s a dodgy area. Bring your pepper spray.

  What?

  Me: Why?

  X: Just be there.

  I would be. Why I was taking orders from this guy? I had no idea, but I was genuinely curious why he wanted to meet me. He got rid of me on the train. I still knew nothing about him, but it couldn’t be clearer that we werepolar opposites even if we were just talking superficial looks here. The guy was mysterious and attractive. I was small and very easy to read.

  I grabbed a white dress from my closet that I paired with white tennis shoes and a yellow necklace. I ran my fingers through my long blonde hair and walked out the door. I asked the front desk for the directions to the coffee shop and they wrote it out for me. I’m a terrible driver, so I was glad they wrote the directions out for me on paper, or I totally would have gotten lost. Driving in this city was a nightmare. I hated it.I hated driving without my GPS telling me where to go, but X didn’t give me an exact address.

  Eventually, I found my way, and it was in a dodgy area. A lot of the buildings looked incomplete, and several people were walking around with their pants hanging down by their knees; muttering to themselves. I wondered why he chose this spot. I grabbed my pepper spray as I got out of the car and slowly made my way to the front doors of the coffee shop we had agreed upon. I wanted my pepper spray as close to me as possible without having to bring it out and hold it directly in front of me like an idiot.

  “Making good use of the pepper spray, I see,” a deep voice said.

  I looked up and saw X. He was leaning against the front door of the coffee shop with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking. Oh, man, this guy was perfection and was definitely not good for me.

  Aly walked up to the coffee shop holding onto the pepper spray I gave her for dear life. I don’t even know why I invited her here. I took pity on her, I guess. First, I was fucking pissed because the damn midget nearly gave me a heart attack the night before. I just kept picturing her in an alley somewhere. Like Sarah.

  Fuck.

  I knew I should have distanced myself from her, but for some reason, I was bringing her closer. I wasn’t planning on texting her back earlier, but then she sent me this angry text, and I knew she was lost. I had help when I left home. I had my coach, my manager, Carl, and Caylan and honestly, my whole career set me up for success. My coach discovered me, and Carl was the guy who opened all the doors for me and led me in the right direction. Caylan, on the other hand, was a wanna-be gangster I met at an arena where I was training. He was a janitor, and I appreciated his “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. I needed an assistant, so I offered it to him. We got along well. He took my shit, and it never seemed to bother him.

  Aly was alone and probably getting a hard time from the people she cared about back home. My plan was to give her some tips, advice, and say goodbye for good. I thought I’d be able to get her out of my head if I knew that I had tried to help her in some way.

  She was wearing a modest white dress, white sneakers, and her handswere hanging limply by her sides. Somehow, she still managed to look stunning. I was used to hooking up with double Ds, fake blondes, and perfectly sculpted women. Aly was none of those things. She was imperfect in the eyes of the world, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was fucking perfection to me.

  I was standing outside the coffee shop to make sure she got over to it without any trouble...and to make her feel better, which I could tell she did. She visibly relaxed when she saw me. The second we made eye contact, it started pouring rain.

  Welcome to Seattle, Aly.

  She immediately started running ov
er to the doorway I was standing in and holding her head. I held the door open for her so she could run in. Once we were both inside, she turned to me with a resolute expression on her face and slumped shoulders.

  “I’m wearing white,” she sighed.

  I tried not to look out of respect, but her dress clung to her skin, and I could see her peach skin showing through. Her cheeks were bright red. Reluctantly, I took off the button-up black shirt I was wearing over my T-shirt and handed it to her.

  “Here, take this,” I said. “It’ll help...but remember you are in Seattle, girl. It’s always gonna rain.”

  “Right,” she said, putting it on. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  I nodded and gestured to a booth. She crawled in and started buttoning up my shirt. I had to admit there was something incredibly sexy about her being dripping wet wearing my t-shirt. This girl was off limits. I kept trying to tell myself that. She was off limits.

  “So,” she said, breaking my train of thought. “Why am I here?”

  “Because I’m going to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yeah, help you. Like, figure out how to get you situated and shit.”

  “Why are you going to help me? No, look,” she sat up straighter, “I know I am innocent and all that, but I’ve heard about you guys. I won’t be taken advantage of.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me.

  I burst out laughing. Everything about what she said was funny to me. That only made her angrier.

  “And what kind of guys have you heard of? Please tell me who I am, Ms. Aly.”

  She leaned in toward me, furrowing her eyebrows. “Don’t make me say it.”

  “Then how will I know?” I joked.

  “Fine, you want to know! Here it is,” she said, flailing her arms. “You guys use girls. You use them so you can sleep with them and, I don’t know, feel better about your bruised egos. It’s all about, well, sex.”Her voice dipped slightly when she said that,which only made me laugh again. “And money and power and all that. I won’t be drawn into that. I won’t be some girl on your list of whatever.”

  I leaned in close to her, so we were almost nose to nose.

  “I am that kind of guy,” I said with a shrug. “It’s pretty much all about money, sex, boxing, and power for me...but that isn’t why I’m helping you.”

  She was about to object when a noise from the TV caught both of our attentions.

  “Up next is X vs. Raylin! Let’s see who can take the title…”

  Her gaze was immediately fixed upon the TV. I remembered that fight. It was a big title win for me. My fourth, I think. I didn’t usually keep track of that shit. I won, got a trophy, a lot of money, a great night of fucking, and getting drunk. That is what I remember.

  Oh, and my parents texted me.

  That was it. She, however, seemed enthralled with it. I was sort of surprised she wasn’t repulsed. After a long while, she finally turned to me blank faced.

  “Is that you?” she asked. Her voice sounded distant.

  “Yeah, that’d be me.”

  She turned to me with amazement in her voice. “You’re incredible.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “You do that to control your anger?”

  “My anger?”

  “Yeah, when you handed me the pepper spray yesterday, you said you had anger issues. That’s what you do to help with it?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I said, watching her carefully. This was not a topic I wanted to delve into.

  “How’d you figure it out?”

  “Figure what out?”

  “How to help your anger?” She looked at her hands and fidgeted.

  “You’re not angry, Aly. Why does any of this matter?”

  “I’m not angry… but I’m lost… I… you found your way. Your passion. How?” She paused. “Why are you helping me, X? If you are using me, please…please, I beg you to tell me to leave here now. I have no one. Everyone I know hates me. To pick on me would just be pathetic and cruel.”

  The brokenness in her voice got to me. Looking at her, I noticed her eyes were full of pain and confusion. Something gripped my heart, and I was reminded of the man I used to be. Before Ryan, before Sarah, and before juvie. Just a young man with big dreams and a best friend to talk about them with. I didn’t understand the world back then.

  Not like I do now.

  “Aly,” I said, forcing her to make eye contact with me. “Everything you said about me is true. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not a good guy, especially by your Christian standards. I am not using you, though. I swear on the lives of the only three people I have ever cared about. I understand you and where you are.”

  She looked guarded. “How could you possibly understand me? Where I’m at? You’re rich, attractive, and apparently famous,” she said, gesturing to the TV. “I’m no one. Nothing.”

  “I wasn’t always, Aly. You want to know why I understand you. Here’s why. I fucking hate my past. Hate talking about it. I hate anything to do with it, but I’ll tell you a small piece, so you understand how I can relate. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “I grew up in a horrible town. Everything was good until I was about fifteen. Something terrible happened. I won’t speak of it, but afterward, I went to juvie and then back home to the same horrible place. I didn’t belong there, but I couldn’t leave until I was eighteen. Those years waiting to leave were the worst of my life. The day I left I was terrified and desperate, but mostly angry. I had help. I got a contract as a boxer. I was all alone like you.”

  She thought for a second. I could tell she wanted to ask about my time in juvie, but she respected my wishes and remained quiet.

  “How can you help me?”

  “Well, first, tell me your situation.”

  Aly hesitated, looked me up and down, then her shoulders fell and she sighed. “I am at a hotel for two weeks, I have my car for two weeks, and enough money to live without a job for three weeks. That’s my time frame.”

  “Okay, we will start with getting you a job. The other two will work themselves out if you have a steady income. What’s your education level?”

  “High school.”

  “Are you in college?”

  “No.”

  “What do you want to be ‘when you grow up’? “I let out a laugh at the silly phrase.

  Aly looked down and bit her lower lip. “My dad had a plan for me. I was just going to follow it until I... went off the rails.”

  “Well, what was the plan?!” I tapped my fingers on the table impatiently.

  “Well, marriage, kids, the housewife thing. You know? I wasn’t the smart one in my family. My dad always said I’d be a good mother.” Her cheeks turned red, and there was sadness in her voice as she spoke.

  I took a deep breath to control my temper so I didn’t scare her. “Is this the freaking sixties? Do you always let him control you like that?”

  She blushed. “You don’t know my dad. He’s very controlling. There’s not much room for what I think.”

  “Well,” I said, shaking my head. “I would love to discuss with you what your life plans are outside of giving birth, but first we have to discuss a short-term job solution. What do you like? Enjoy doing? There are tons of restaurant jobs, shops, and grocery stores around here. All these types of jobs are super easy to get regardless of experience.”

  “I love music. I’ll look at music stores around here, “she said as she made a note on her phone.“I could cashier there.”

  “That’s good. As for transportation, it’s the city. Use public transport until you can afford a car. Just be careful. The people can be sort of sketchy on the bus and all that. As for the hotel, that’s going to be the hardest part. You’ll probably make eleven dollars an hour at first, no matter where you work. So you’ll need to look for a roommate, a shitty apartment, rent a room, or something.”

  I ran my hand over my face and groaned. I was fucked with this girl. I felt so prote
ctive of her for God knows what reason. It literally was causing me anxiety to think about her alone in a shitty apartment or spare bedroom, and we both knew there was no way she was going to find a roommate in two weeks.

  “What?” she asked, looking up from where she was typing notes on her phone.

  “I’m going to offer you a job.”

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Four

  “What?” I choked out as Idropped my cell phone on the table.

  “Yeah,” X mumbled. He ran his hands through his hair and looked so nervous. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look anything but confident.

  “Doing what? What could I possibly do? I have no skills.”

  His phone rang and he held up his finger, telling me to give him a second.

  “Hello,” he said roughly to whoever was on the other line. His whole demeanor changed the second he picked up the phone. It caught me off guard. He was so much more aggressive.

  “Well, get it fucking done. I have a fighttonight, and that shit better be figured out before I get in the ring…” There was a pause. “Yeah. Yeah, will do. And, Cay, I’m bringing a guest to the fight tonight. I want her to be front and center in the exclusive seats where you can keep an eye on her…” There was another pause. “Shut the fuck up and do your fucking job or I will fire you. Don’t think our somewhat friendship puts you beyond firing if you don’t keep an eye on who I tell you to. Understood?”

  X slammed the phone shut. I sat all the way back in the booth feeling a little thrown off guard by the call. He was intense.

  “So…” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just totally flipped personalities. “You are coming to my fight tonight.”

  “Again, with the bossing around, “I said, pursing my lips and frowning at him.

  He gave me a warning glare and leaned forward. “Look, Aly, this opportunity I’m offering you is so you don’t have to live in some sketchy-ass apartment and take public transportation. I pay everyone that works for me extremely well. I’m well aware my success is largely because I have a great staff, so I pay them accordingly. I am telling you to come tonight so you can get a feel for everything and meet everyone. I would never have even invited you, but, surprisingly, you seemed to enjoy the fight on TV, so maybe this could be a win-win. I think you are a smart girl with potential. However, and this is my one warning to you, I’m not a good person. I won’t pretend to be for you, nor do I expect the people around me to be. There will be sex, drugs, cursing, alcohol, and all that shit. We love it, and we’ll do it. I’m not nice. I’d be your boss, and I will treat you accordingly. I will also expect you to treat me accordingly. I can be patient because I know your background and have taken some sort pity on you, but I have high expectations for everyone that works for me. So, with all that said, I will ask you, do you want to go tonight?”