Ripper (Tortured Heroes Book 5)

by Jayne Blue

  Raleigh looked at the calendar on the kitchen wall. Every day was marked up with her log. It was full of stuff, activities filled the hours and the days, but activities weren’t life. She didn’t have much of one lately.

  She had to have each moment all planned out. Quiet, methodical, and within walking distance was all the life she could manage.

  It had been almost a year since she had graduated college and her life took a turn that defined the days to follow.

  She had a degree from Grand Valley State University, a great job lined-up with a major company, and then happened.

  Her parents were ready to move to Florida, and they postponed their lives to take care of her. In the last few weeks, she’d spent most her time on the phone with her parents and her doctor that she could manage on her own. The key to that was calm, quiet, and careful.

  She had been, for almost a year. She had arranged a walking distance life. She wanted to be independent and didn’t want to be a problem. But it still wasn’t living, this cautious road she walked.

  She rubbed the fatty spot behind Andrew’s ears. He loved that. That was the one good development this year. Andrew, her seizure assistance dog.

  He was why she could live alone. Her life was small, and she knew it. To her parents and her friends, she said all was well. Everyone go on with your lives, nothing to see here, Raleigh thought. It was dawning on her how much her seizures had taken away from her.

  Her boyfriend at the time of the incident was ashamed of what she had done and in the end declared he was not going to spend his life “taking care of her.” Good riddance to that guy.

  She was going to prove to everyone that she did not need to be taken care of her, her parents did not need to take care of her, neither did Alysha or Courtney. She could do it.

  She might not be allowed to drive, but she could survive. She was surviving. Thriving? Well, that was a different criterion.

  It had been a year of ups and downs, but she was doing it on her own now.

  Her freelance security hacking was paying the bills, and she wasn’t rich, but it was enough.

  Enough until just a few minutes ago, she realized, as thoughts of the sex god next door floated through her mind.

  She had not even thought about what she was missing in the romance department. Until ten minutes ago. Until Mace, Alois moved in.

  Raleigh looked around her apartment with a critical eye.

  He did owe her a little something for watching his dog. She decided he would pay it by helping her paint the walls in her family room area.

  Yep. She needed some time with her new neighbor to see if the sparks she just felt were a fluke or a sign that it was time to move one more step forward.

  Raleigh’s log did need an entry that would burn up the pages dammit.

  She was so tired of being safe. Of trying to avoid a seizure. If having no seizures also meant having no life what was the point?

  Mace

  Great Wolves Gym was too high profile, but he needed a place to work out. Zeke Powell’s gym was home to a lot of up and coming names. It had been featured on television even.

  But maybe that was a good thing. Agents and scouts could focus on the burgeoning careers of people like Craddock Flynn and Jessie Hoolihan while he stayed at least somewhat connected the sport he loved and kept in shape for his security jobs. Craddock Flynn deflected attention from him Mace reasoned.

  He had to be careful, though. Whitey Hoolihan, the old trainer, had asked him to do some sparring with a new crop of light heavyweights that day. Mace had a strong punch, he knew he could take any of these guys out with it, but it was the ground game that Whitey wanted the guys to learn.

  “No one rides like you Mace,” Whitey said to him as he blew the whistle to end the session. Jessie, his grandson, and insanely strong middleweight wrestler piped in behind him.

  “That’s what she said,” Jessie added. Both Mace and Whitey were confused by the reference.

  “That’s what he said.” Mace pointed to Whitey.

  “No, that’s the joke from that television show? The Office?” Whitey smacked Jessie on the back of the head.

  “Stop being funny,” Whitey said, and Jessie shook his head and walked over to the free weights.

  “I am confused by the pronouns,” Mace explained to Whitey.

  “I’m confused by anyone under fifty. Don’t worry about it.”

  Mace felt fluent in English but sometimes got tripped up and no more so than when someone quoted an American television show. Growing up in France his parents did not even have a television. They had the restaurant, and he worked there or worked out all the time.

  “Hey before you take off, I wanted to let you know, the Great Wolves MC, guys that own this joint, want to sponsor someone to make a run this year for the 21C professional league. I was thinking of you. Sparring with these guys is one thing, but I’m watching you and know you got a lot more in the tank.”

  “Not interested in pro anymore, but thank you.”

  “You’re what? Only 26 or 27? You’ve got a few good years ahead?”

  “Merci yes, 27. But no. I’m happy sparring and whatever you need but no fights for me.”

  “Damn shame,” White said and shook his head as he walked away from Mace.

  Mace headed to the showers and tried to convince himself he was safe here. This was just a question from Whitey. No one here knew who was looking for him. He hoped. Grand City was about as far away from Europe as you could get. He knew the men who chased him had a long reach.

  His days at the GWG could be limited if they found him here. It was why he fled New York. Things were too hot there. Then Detroit. Finally here.

  Maybe he had been here too long already. He did not want to run again though he knew he might always be running. He carried the past like a weight he could not put down.

  It seemed a particularly heavyweight as he returned to his apartment until he saw her.

  He walked to the door of his place and there she was again. Raleigh “like the city” - his luscious neighbor.

  He had seen glimpses of her in the mornings the last few days, running out in short shorts to walk her big yellow dog, Andrew, she called him.

  Her blond hair caught the light and her legs, well, they drove him a little crazy. He tried to avoid seeing her. It was much easier that way.

  Raleigh noticed him noticing her and took a few long strides in his direction essentially cutting him off from his front door.

  “So when’s a good time?” She asked, no hello, no how are you today. She just dove right into the question.

  “Good afternoon would be the courteous way to great a neighbor in my country.” The American way of getting right to the point was a cute trait on her, but he supposed just about everything was cute on Raleigh Gibson.

  “Bonjour, right?”

  “Oui.”

  “Bonjour, when’s a good time for you to paint my living room?” She looked him right in the eyes, and there was a little challenge on her lips. He wanted to kiss that smirk right off her mouth. This one was almost impossible to resist and with no sense of what he was really getting into with her, he had promised to help her around her apartment. Mace was not sure that was the best idea all of a sudden.

  “It’s Friday night. I have a job to go to tonight. I am off on Saturday though, totally free. Does that work with you?” He asked her.

  “Perfect. I have plans tonight too. I will see you early Saturday. Au revoir.” Then she turned around to offer another lovely view of her backside. Mace stood in place for a second to enjoy it.

  She turned back unexpectedly and caught him staring.

  “And you were lecturing me about manners? Is it courteous to stare at a woman’s ass?”

  “It is in France.” Raleigh Gibson appeared to want to play with him. He had decided to see if she was all talk.

  “Oh, really, I always thought that was more Italy.” She continued to her place and shut the door.

&nbs
p; He found himself wondering about how she looked without those short shorts on. How she looked all the time. It was a line of thinking that could lead to big trouble.

  Raleigh

  Alysha and Courtney were her best friends since forever. They had gone to high school and college together, and now they were all starting careers in Grand City. Alysha was teaching, and Courtney was an associate producer at WLUV, the local news station.

  She was envious of both of them sometimes. They were out, doing the things they dreamed. They were not housebound, as Raleigh had to be.

  The envy did not last long. Especially when they continued to try to make sure she was okay. The incident had not changed their bond. It was stronger if anything.

  Except they spent less time together. They rarely went out thanks to Courtney’s schedule; she worked nights at the station, so it was a treat to have all three of them available for a girl’s night in.

  She had thought that meant movies at her apartment. Even though she knew, they were getting tired of staying in with her.

  They showed up Friday night, each looking gorgeous in her own way, and they announced she was going out with them.

  “You have been fine. You said so yourself. You have your medicine, and you have a killer dress that’s been collecting dust.” Courtney was not taking no for an answer.

  “I am fine. But am I bar fine? That’s a totally different kind of fine.”

  “Superfine,” Alysha chimed in.

  Raleigh did not use to be the shy type, and she had fun dressing up or used to. It had been a long time. She remembered her boring log of the day, she’d walked Andrew, worked for clients, and then shocked herself by making painting date with Mace.

  Maybe she was getting braver. She would roll with it! She decided to take a leap of faith do a night out instead of in. Alysha and Courtney would have her back if anything happened.

  She chose her favorite little black dress and short jean jacket over the top.

  “Please, can we do that long pendant you have,” Alysha was the fashion advisor of the group.

  Raleigh put a long pendant on and her silver hoops.

  “Happy now? But no spinning, let’s not press our luck,” Raleigh said.

  “You look sensational!” Alysha said. Her tiny friend was half-Filipino and all gorgeous. If she had not been so short, she could have been a model. Instead, she taught special education at an inner-city elementary school.

  “Back at you.” Alysha had a little red dress on accented with gold jewelry and her petite frame put Kelly Ripa to shame.

  “Your legs couldn’t be more toned,” Courtney complimented her. Courtney was their model tall friend. Courtney played college volleyball, and if it was on a high shelf, their stunning redheaded Amazon would get it. Raleigh envied the strength and power that radiated from every gorgeous inch of Courtney.

  They were both trying to bolster Raleigh’s confidence and it was so sweet she could cry.

  “I owe my gams, as Grandma Gibson used to say, to the dog. I walk about four or five miles a day.”

  “That’ll do it. Courtney where we headed?” Alysha asked.

  It was Courtney’s turn to be the designated driver, and as such, she got to pick the place.

  “Well seeing as I can’t partake I decided we’d go somewhere where we can have some excitement and see some gorgeous man flesh.”

  “Oh God. What? I’m not going to a male strip show.” Alysha was the most conservative of the three of them and blushed at the talk of eye candy or men or just about anything.

  “Relax. We’re headed to the Big Old Building Bar.”

  “It’s a meat market. What if someone from school sees me?” Alysha was always worried about that these days.

  “Relax. They don’t let elementary school kids in unless they have a really good fake id.” Raleigh assured her friend. They laughed together, and it was good to be with the girls Raleigh thought. She had been so focused on work, and that damn balance, that she had forgotten fun.

  The three friends staked a claim at a bar top table once they arrived and Raleigh described Mace to her girlfriends. She had contributed so little to their once vibrant discussion of men she felt she owed them some full disclosure.

  “Sounds like a meat head.” Said Alysha, who was looking for a man with ambition and earning potential to go with her steady as a rock personality. Very logical plans were Alysha’s forte.

  “Sounds like you should fuck his brains out.” Courtney’s logic was of a different flavor.

  “I can’t say I haven’t visualized that.” The three laughed they had one drink each, white wine for Raleigh, which packed a punch since drinking was such a rarity for her these days, and a Cosmo for Alysha. When the server brought Courtney the water she had ordered, he whispered something in her ear.

  “That’s exactly what I’d been hoping would happen,” she told them after the server left.

  “What,” Alysha asked.

  “Well, ladies finish your drinks. It’s time to motivate.” Alysha was putting money on the table and chugged her cocktail.

  Raleigh thought better of it and left her wine half downed. She was taking a huge leap being out and she was getting more afraid by the second. She did not want to ruin her friends' night though getting dizzy after on glass of wine. They worked hard too and deserved not to have to babysit her.

  “So we’re going to the speakeasy,” Courtney explained, and they followed her out the door and down the block. Both shorter women had to hoof it fast to match Courtney’s confident stride.

  “The what,” Raleigh asked.

  “The coolest thing right now is bars with no advertising, no names, and no signs. They pop up for a few weeks, then poof! The bar’s gone, and the party moves to a new one. This new one we are going to is supposed to be like an old-time fight club. It’s called Bareknuckles!” Courtney was beside herself with glee at her adventure planning.

  Sure enough, the bar next to the one they had started in looked closed condemned even. Raleigh and Alysha gave each other concerned looks.

  Courtney knocked on the door, and a window opened.

  “Password.” Really? Password? Was Al Capone dropping in later?

  “Designated Driver,” Courtney said, and that was apparently right because the door swung open.

  “Welcome dames,” whispered the doorman and Courtney turned to them to explain how she came by the location and password for Bareknuckles Bar.

  “The waiter said when anyone orders water he gives them the tip and the password to this place. Pretty cool right?”

  “This is all legal right, I am a damn kindergarten teacher,” Alysha said.

  “Oh yeah, we did a story on it at WLUV, legal, fun, and totally retro.”

  The Bareknuckles Bar was straight out of 1920s movie. The bar lined all the darkened walls of the place. The tables and chairs looked like they’d been stolen from a salon straight out of a movie Western. The tables were situated around a boxing ring smack dab in the middle of the space.

  Raleigh looked around. Surely they had to be out of place here. They couldn’t possibly be the regular customer of Barenknuckles.

  But she was wrong, hipsters, college kids, and young professionals sat at the barstools and crowded the ring, three rows deep. Before they could even order a drink, a bell rang, and a man in the center of the ring announced the event.

  “PoPo Portuguese vs. Jean-Claude!”

  Raleigh looked over the heads of the people watching and into the ring. Her jaw dropped. The floppy hair on top, the broad shoulders, it was him. Raleigh’s eyes drank in the muscle and sinew that made up Jean-Claude. Which was clearly his fighting name because Jean-Claude was actually Mace. Sweaty, mean and scary as hell looking. But the man in the ring was her neighbor.

  For the next eight minutes, Raleigh forgot about her carefully tended balance. She watched as Mace dodged PoPo, blocked a kick, and took a vicious hit on his jaw. Which served to really piss him off it appeared.
>
  “That guy is so fucking hot,” Courtney yelled in her ear. Yelling was the only way to communicate at that moment at Bareknuckles.

  “That’s him.”

  “What?”

  “That’s my neighbor.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Alysha said.

  “Yep. Though I think Jean-Claude must be some sort of stage name.”

  Mace spit a bit of blood out after the punch on the jaw and got to work. He slammed PoPo to the mat with a loud thud and the bar went nuts.

  “PoPo going down!” One person yelled.

  “Never bet against Jean-Claude Van Damage!” Another joked.

  Mace had PoPo screaming for mercy on the ground as he unleashed punch after punch.

  “Isn’t that ref supposed to step in and save that other guy?” She turned to Alysha, but Alysha was as the bar. Courtney too had been swept up in bar mayhem and was talking up some guy. Raleigh was alone in the crowd and rather worried that she was about to watch Mace murder, someone.

  In the overwhelming sight, sound, and sensory overload she absolutely forgot to worry about herself at all.

  “STOP!” She yelled at the top of her lungs and miraculously Mace must have heard her. Or the ref did. But she swore it was Mace who keyed into her voice over the crowd because he looked right at her, as he continued to pound on his opponent. He may have heard her, but he did not heed her. The ref came over, finally, and pulled Mace, or Jean-Claude, off of PoPo whatever his name was.

  The crowd erupted around her, and money went flying from person to person. Of course, they would all bet on this, it was like a cockfight, right? But with humans. The bar might be legal, but she doubted the betting was.

  Raleigh had never seen anything like it. The next fight was about to start, one right after another. She felt penned into the throng all of a sudden. And without Mace in the ring to focus on, she remembered to be afraid of having a seizure in this environment.

  Raleigh’s heart was pounding so hard she felt it would beat out of her chest. She needed out of there. Fast.