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The strength in me?
If there were any words I would choose to describe myself, the last on my list would be strong.
That’s what she saw. Some brave, courageous hero leaping in front of men with knives to protect pure strangers. But she was wrong. Strength didn’t drive me to do those things.
Weakness did.
Fear did.
My addiction, my past, and my memories did.
I was propelled forward because I was scared that the people who have become my present and will hopefully be my future, may one day hear about all the awful things I’d done and the shitty person I used to be.
I was scared that if I didn’t keep pushing forward, fighting to do better and be better, the past me would catch up one day, and I would sink back into that deep, dark hole I dragged myself out of so many years ago.
I was not strong. I was just afraid of being weak.
“Okay, okay,” Calli said when I didn’t answer. “I’ll shut up now.”
Calli had been my best friend for five years. She was well aware of how I tended to shut down when any kind of attention was pointed in my direction. She knew it because she often acted as a distraction to protect me whenever the spotlight moved in my direction for any reason.
I rolled my eyes dramatically, elbowing her in the ribs. “For someone who occasionally carries a gun and is almost a perfect shot, I’m sure you would have stepped in too had it been you.”
She let out a burst of laughter and leaped off the bed. “I carry because I know it makes my dad feel better when I’m going certain places, not because I think I could actually pull it out and shoot someone with it.” She pressed her lips together, furiously shaking her head. “Uh-uh. No. The thought of being responsible for taking a person’s life? I couldn’t. I’d never be able to live with myself.”
The woman pressed her hand to her chest and gripped her shirt. She was struggling to breathe, her chest still rising and falling but too quickly for her to be actually catching a breath.
“Ali, I think she’s having a heart attack!”
I gripped the plastic sheets as a wave of nausea surged, the stomach acid burning at the back of my throat for a second before I managed to force it back down.
“Shay?” Calli questioned with a raised brow. “Are you okay?”
“All right,” Matt announced, stepping back into the room while pushing a trolley of sterilized medical instruments. He picked up a large needle, and I instantly shook my head.
“You need to do them without the anesthetic,” I said quickly, my heart kicking into gear.
He sighed. “Shay, I need to numb it to do them, or it’s going to hurt like fucking hell.” Matt knew about my aversion to pain relief.
If I could do without it, I did because present me refused to open any door that past me could possibly step through.
I reached out to my best friend. “Calli, throw me your handbag.”
Her brow pulled together, but she let her bag slip from her shoulder and held it out to me. I took it, lifting the leather strap to my lips and taking a deep breath before I placed it between my teeth and bit down hard.
“Jesus Christ,” Matt cursed under his breath, looking to Calli, who just leaned back against the wall of the small medical room and shrugged. Matt sighed but returned the needle to the tray before turning back to me and clapping his hands. “Okay, no painkillers. But here’s your warning. I haven’t sutured since medical school, so…”
Goddammit.
Chapter Two
BISHOP
“How’s everything coming along?” I questioned as Blue and I pushed through the doorway of the boxing gym. The sound of fists connecting with pads and bags was so loud I felt the vibrations moving through my body. The smell hit next—sweat mixed with that shit you rubbed on your muscles when they were sore. It’s not exactly pleasant, but I’ve spent so much time here these days that I’ve become accustomed to it.
The club had bought Brawlers a few months ago. Some people might call it an investment opportunity. I called it a legitimate business that was perfect to cover illegitimate activities.
Not only was it a busy and well-known gym used by many boxers in the area to train and compete, but it also had a large basement big enough to house a new project, and I was here to check in on its progress.
