CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Ava
“M r. Quinlan is looking for you,” Bourne says when I reach the lobby.
I bet he is.
“He was busy.” I grip my purse and then check my watch.
By day, I’m a queen, seen all over Manhattan in my nice clothes, hair styled, and lots of makeup. I lunch with my cousins, my aunt, and others who want my husbands’ and my brothers’ favor.
I hate it.
It’s not who I am. I thought Griffin knew I hated it, too.
But three nights a week, I come alive teaching self-defense to domestic abuse survivors in Isabella O’Rourke’s center for women. Tonight is one of those nights.
It’s early, but I need to work out and get loose, shake off what I heard Griffin say about me. And that Rand Miller might be alive after all and spied on me.
“I’d like to go to the O’Rourke Women’s Center now instead of later,” I tell Bourne.
“Yes, Mrs. Quinlan.” He steers me out of the lobby and into the Lexus where Ace is watching the double-parked SUV.
He smiles at me and opens the passenger door.
Once I get to the women’s center, I change into workout clothes I keep in a locker. I run on the treadmill, Griffin’s words ringing in my ears.
Get rid of her.
Her family will need a funeral home.
What in the actual fuck?
Before I know it, I’ve run about twelve miles, and I’m covered in sweat. Then Jenna walks into the center, and I forget my troubles. Although, I identify with her and the others a little more now. Looks like my husband also wants me gone and will use violence to get rid of me.
Jenna’s story broke my heart, and I was ready to tell my husband to kill the man who hurt her. But men like Jenna’s husband are cockroaches. Squash one and flush it down the toilet, but a few thousand are lurking behind the wall ready to strike when it gets dark.
I doubt I’ll say much to Griffin anymore. Move into one of the guest bedrooms. Something happened, something...
Did... Did I misunderstand what I heard?
“You okay?” Isabella startles me, and I nearly trip on the treadmill’s fast-moving belt.
“Yeah, sure. Just... You know. Stuff.” I shrug.
“Griffin?”
I close my eyes. She’s married to a mafia king like me. But I don’t want to pry into her relationship. Marriages are snowflakes, no two are alike. I recall her telling me she and her husband had a rocky start.
I doubt he threatened to kill her!
“He’s been...” An asshole. “Busy.”
“It comes with the territory.” She absentmindedly holds her stomach.
Christ, she’s expecting again. I can’t bother her, or make her think I too will have a stalker husband. She’ll ban me.
“It’s fine.”
“Your group is here.” Isabella points to the women filing into the workout room I use for the self-defense classes.
I hop off the treadmill and grab a towel to rid my body of sweat. In the locker room, I change into fresh workout gear and then strut to the class, my head held high.
Even though I feel miserable.
In the small group of women I coach, Jenna is the quietest, the most unsure. But she’s come a long way. I was told by her on-site therapist that the idea of any violence triggers her. Her eyes always cast downward. The weight of everything she’s been through is clear in the slope of her shoulders.
I greet the class and Tyson, a retired police academy instructor, and I go a few rounds. Building on moves we covered in the last class. Jenna doesn’t squirm as much watching me get my ass kicked by Tyson, who isn’t really kicking my ass. He looks convincing, it has to look real. Fighting back is life and death to these ladies.
After a few others take their turns with Ty, I offer Jenna a go at the guy. But she says she’s only comfortable with me. My heart leaps, hearing that.
I think about the RAVENs and all the people we helped, especially the women who’d been raped in Syria. I can do this. I can have my own life and gain satisfaction without Griffin.
Jenna approaches me, looking at her feet.
“Eyes on me, Jenna.”
She nods and looks at me while planting her feet, but her hands shake as she squares up in front of me.
“You’re doing great, hun,” I say gently, showing her how to hold her hands, firm but non-threatening. “The important part is to not just be confident, but look confident. You have power. You just have to find it.”
Her lower lip quivers for a few seconds, but when she meets my gaze, I see a fighter.
“Let’s try that last maneuver again.” I move behind her and wrap one arm around her chest, holding her in a mock chokehold. “Now remember, elbows back, and twist out to the side. You’re not trying to beat him up. You’re trying to get away.”
The primary response we teach is to run. The treadmills and other weights in the gym are to build muscle.
Jenna hesitates, but I see that glint of determination in her eyes. I see the recollection come back to her from my earlier instructions. She blows out a breath with pursed lips as she moves in. With her elbow jutted back, her body twists, and a sting hits my ribs.
“Ouch!” I snap.
She’s suddenly free of my hold.
I grin so wide, my face hurts. Filled with pride, I chirp, “See? You did it!”
“I... I didn’t think I could do it,” she murmurs, glancing around at the other women for validation.
They cheer her on softly. There’s a lot of hurt under these women’s skin. This isn’t a spa. They don’t want to be here. Jenna’s expression shifts to something like hope mixed with disbelief.
“Did I hurt you?” she asks, her eyes on my hand rubbing my side.
“Yeah, and I’m happy you did. I’m here to get the bruises you don’t have to bear anymore.” I meet her gaze firmly. “You have every right to defend yourself. No one has the right to hurt you. Ever.”
“I know,” she whispers, wiping tears away from one cheek. It’s slowly regaining its normal hue from the massive bruise she came in with last week.
The rest of the session passes quickly with Jenna practicing, her confidence growing with each attempt. When our two-hour lesson is up, I hate leaving. If I had my way, this is all I would do.
“Thank you,” Jenna knocks me from my thoughts.
“You’re so welcome.” I don’t hug her because she’s got touch issues.
“How long have you been married?” she looks down at the gold band on my left ring finger.
The rock around my neck could knock someone out.
“Not long.” I twist the plain gold wedding band that just showed up on our wedding day, my heart hurting.
“He’s a good guy?” Jenna asks, sounding hopeful and not jealous.
“He is,” I say to convince her. Or maybe me.
I’m still fucked up over what happened this afternoon.
I think about Rand Miller again. “But I was attacked once. By someone I knew.”
Next, Jenna is petting my arm. She’s touching me! I try not to react.
“I fought back because I had training. I was lucky. That’s why I’m here.” I smile. “To share that with you ladies.”
“Thank you. I appreciate all your help. Ted is... I’ll see you next week.” Jenna leaves, her back a little straighter.
Private car service picks her up, something Isabella provides at no charge when the women leave here after dark. When the rest of the women leave one by one, I feel the weight of my words about Jenna’s right to defend herself sink in. I hope she truly believes me.
It’s almost nine p.m. and my phone remains silent. No texts. No calls. Griffin hasn’t called me. He knows I have classes tonight, and I know he has plans to make the rounds again on the streets. A stronghold of a few blocks who are not on board with the new Quinlan Empire regime needs another visit from the king and the enforcer team.
What happened? We’ve been getting along great. It’s been so easy. Griffin lets me do whatever I want. Maybe he’d rather have a sunshine bird like Wren and not a beat-up, grumpy wife.
I gather my things and when I leave the center, I look for Bourne. He waves from the corner. I head that way and he tosses a cigarette.
“I had to park down the street. Mrs. O’Rourke asked me not to double park.”
“No problem, Bourne.”
Following my guard down the eerily quiet street, I look up at a rare blanket of visible stars for a city full of lights. I spent many nights in different countries looking for Orion and Cassiopeia, their locations taught to me by Aunt Helena along with their history in our Greek heritage.
I’m so transfixed tonight. My head is all over the place, and I don’t realize Bourne kept walking ahead. With a glance, I see he’s nearly on the next block.
Feeling it’s best not to yell, I pick up my pace, but an uneasy feeling creeps over me. Hearing footsteps, I swing around, but the footfalls stop.
Then with sickening clarity, a voice hisses from the darkness. A man steps out of the shadows, his eyes wild, a sneer pulling at his mouth.
“Ava...was it?”