Ryker

Chapter Six

I know I’m stalling. It’s been over twenty-four hours since Ryker, Lincoln, and Hawkins showed up at Stardust. I should have left that night, but for the first time ever, I can’t just leave.

This time, I won’t be taking Jeremy. Over the five years he’s been with me, I’ve dragged him along, but now, he’s about to graduate with his GED and will start the police academy. I will not be the reason he has to leave everything behind.

I’ve done my job. I’ve helped him stay off the streets and out of the lifestyle I live. If I stay, he would either wind up dead or, worse, spending his life in the exact place I’ve worked so hard to keep him out of.

I groan as I slip out of bed and look at the clock. Today will be my last shift at the gym, and it’s payday. Thankfully, the owners haven’t asked too many questions. Even though I have the story down pat, I still get confused with all the different lives I’ve lived over the past six years. I use the same story every time. Once I told them that I was on the run from my abusive ex, they agreed to pay me under the table.

I roll my head from side to side before I stand and stretch my arms above my head. I hear the door open, and my eyes fly open to see Jeremy standing in the doorway. I had no intention of saying goodbye. I know, I’m a dick. But can you blame me? It would be easier on everyone if I just disappeared. Goodbyes are something I never do.

His eyes trail down my body, and his jaw tightens. I look down and find my sweatshirt has risen up, exposing my bare pussy. I quickly lower my arms, and he straightens .

“I’m taking my final test today.” He says with a smile.

I furrow my brows. “On a Sunday?” I ask as I wander to my dresser, pull out a black thong and a matching sports bra, and toss them onto the bed before opening the bottom drawer and grabbing my last pair of clean shorts.

“It’s the only day I can do it. I turned in my final paper for English, but my math, science, and social studies will be on the test.”

I nod as I search my closet for anything to wear. “When will you know if you pass or fail?” I internally groan as I remember I haven’t done laundry in about two weeks, and most of my things are in the duffle bag under my bed. I grab the oversized T-shirt and toss it onto the bed.

“They will send a letter in the mail. I told them that I wasn’t sure where I would be staying and would stop by the office for my diploma. If I pass they will have it, if I fail.” He shrugs.

I slip on the underwear and shorts before I glare at him. “You won’t fail.”

He shrugs again, “If I do, I’ll just retake the courses.”

I narrow my eyes. “You better try your best, or I swear to god.”

He smirks and leans against the door frame. “What? You will punish me?” His grin widens, and I pick up my pillow and throw it at him. “I’m serious.”

He laughs, and I can’t help but join in. The thought of losing him sends a wave of sadness coursing through me. I don’t know what I will do if I lose the one person I have left. He is my person. The person I thought I would always have. It was a foolish thought. I know this is for the best. I have to believe that.

My smile drops, and I grab my sports bra and step into it, sliding it up my hips before pulling my arms through the sweatshirt to finish putting it on. When it’s in place, I pull the sweatshirt off and glance back up to Jeremy, whose eyes have heated. He takes a step forward before he stops and runs a hand through his hair.

“Can I be honest about something?”

Oh god, no. Please, not today.

“Of course. You know you always can.”

He swallows hard and takes another step forward. He opens his mouth and closes it again before repeating the motion a few times. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. My breath is caught in my throat. It starts to burn. When his eyes open, he steps into me and grips me by the hips, pulling me flush to his body.

“I don’t have the words.” He whispers and kisses me. Hard. He puts everything into this kiss. My eyes widen in shock, and it takes me a second to react. We’ve kissed before, but this… I close my eyes and lean into his touch, allowing myself five seconds to reciprocate, five seconds to allow me this one thing. One.

He growls, runs his hands down my legs, and grips the back of my thighs. Two.

He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, flinging my arms around his neck. He bites my lower lip, and I can’t help the whimper that follows. Three.

He slides one hand under me so one arm holds me up while the other slowly traces my spine. A shiver runs through me, and I deepen the kiss. Four.

I push my body more into him and shut my eyes even tighter. Trying everything to make these five seconds count. I run my hands through his hair before sliding down his neck and holding his jaw. Five .

I pull back, break the kiss, and lean my forehead against his. That kiss was filled with love and compassion—something I haven’t experienced—ever. But it changed nothing. Today, I leave. I will go to work, come home, grab my bags, and leave before he can finish his test. I have to.

He sets me down softly, and we stand there for way longer than we should have. By the time I finally look at him, our breathing has returned to normal, and loss coats his features.

“Jeremy,” I whisper and take a step back.

“Don’t,” he says and takes a step forward. “You feel this. I know you do. Don’t push me away.”

I shake my head and keep walking backward until I bump into the dresser, making a few things that were piled on top fall to the floor. “I-..” I swallow hard and look at the ground as he approaches.

“You won’t even give this…” He gestures between him and I, “...us a chance? We could be great, and you know it.”

I do.

“I don’t.” I look up, forcing an impassive expression.

“Don’t.” He repeats, gripping my hips again. I slide out of his grip before he pulls me back in.

“Jeremy, please. You and I can’t happen. It won’t happen.” “You’re telling me you feel nothing for me?”

I don’t answer because I can’t lie to him. I don’t know what I feel for him, but I know I can’t explore it. Whether I like it or not, Manzo owns me. I can never live a normal life. Constantly on the run, I can never have anything but death, destruction, and misery.

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step back and shakes his head. “You are unbelievable.” He scoffs and throws his hands up in the air. I can’t help but wince .

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and look at the ground.

He huffs a breath as he walks to the door. He pauses in the doorway, and I slowly look up to meet his gaze. “You are going to miss out on so many things because you’re too fucking stubborn to realize what you have right in front of you. I’m a grown fucking man, and I can take care of myself. You might not want to believe that, but that doesn’t change the facts.” I open my mouth to respond, but he stops me by raising a hand. “I don’t want to hear what bullshit excuses you’re going to make this time, Bianca.” He shakes his head before turning and slamming the connecting door behind him.

“I have to because I love you,” I whisper to myself.

I finish getting ready. Putting on the ridiculous oversized shirt and grabbing the baseball cap I keep tucked in the side pocket of my gym bag. I grab my other bag from under the bed and finish packing by throwing everything that is clean haphazardly into it before zipping it up and sliding it back under the bed.

I tilt my head from side to side, thinking about what I might need. I grab my thigh strap, slip it as high as it would go, and place two of my favorite knives in their rightful spots.

Just as I’m about to head out, I hear Jeremy’s door open and slam shut. I wince. I know I hurt him, but it would be ten times worse if I didn’t follow through with leaving. I have to keep reminding myself of that as I grab my bag, slip it over my shoulder, and head out the door.

I feel it. Someone is here. Someone is watching me. The wind knocks my cap off my head, and I quickly grab it, tucking my hair under the cap as I search the parking lot. I look for any of the usuals: Black SUVs or one of his flashy cars, in case he’s decided to be a dick today, but I don’t see anyone. The weird feeling in my stomach seems to grow tenfold as I begin walking .

Maybe I should just leave. I see an older blue car with paint missing from its hood, one of the wipers is missing, and the left headlight is busted. As I slow my pace, it comes to a complete stop. I stare at it for a moment, trying to see inside. I sigh out of frustration when I can’t see through the tinted windows.

The car takes a right and disappears. I look back at the motel down the street and down the road they turned. I don’t know who that was. All I know is that it wasn’t Manzo. I know Manzo and all of his tricks. If that were him, he wouldn’t have been so careless to let me go. He knows that I’d run. I furrow my brows as I start walking back to the motel, but then I stop.

“Why am I being so paranoid?” I mutter to myself. I turn and head to work.

I keep glancing at the clock on the wall, watching as each minute passes. They tick by at an agonizingly slow rate. I’ve been here for almost three hours, and I’ve already decided that I’m going to leave early. I’ll get off around five, but I should get my check at around three. After that, I’ll grab my bag from the motel and leave before anyone notices, before Jeremy notices.

“Okay!” I clap my hands together and try to sound as cheerful as I can, “You did such a great job today, and I can tell you’ve been keeping up with the routine.” I throw the brunette a towel as she hops off the treadmill and walk her back to the locker room. “I’ll see you next week?” I ask, and she takes a long pull of her water bottle before nodding.

“Thank you, Sophie.” I give her a half smile, pat her on her back, and make my way up to the boxing bags on the second floor.

I don’t bother with gloves or wraps as I make my way to the bag in the back corner. I throw a few practice punches to get my hands used to the weight of the stiff bag. I make sure to focus on my form and the speed of my punches. I brace my core as much as possible, but remembering to stay square with the bag becomes difficult with every swing. The punches get harder, faster, and meaner. Making me falter and causing my hands to ache.

Once my 30 minutes are up, my arms are shaking, and my knuckles are a bit bloody. I flex my hands, opening and shutting them, trying to get the circulation to return to my fingers. I stretch out my shoulders and arms, lean my head against the wall, and sigh.

My mind wanders back to that kiss, how tender Jeremy was with me, how protective, and how loving. I wish I could love him the way he deserves to be loved. I wish I didn’t have to leave him. I wish we could be together. I wish. I wish. I wish. I lean my head back, holding in the tears, and look back at the bag.

Moving quickly, I swing as hard as I can. I use all of my rage, fears, and annoyance with myself in each swing. My breathing becomes heavy, and my throat starts to burn.

Fuck you, Manzo. I swing. Fuck what you did to me. Fuck me for allowing someone to get close. I swing even harder. Fuck me for not letting myself have a nice guy. This time, when I swing, I hear the chains holding the bag up jingle and snap from the weight of the punch.

I hear a gasp come from behind me, and I pull out one of the knives I have strapped on me and whip around to find a 20-year- old woman with shoulder-length brown hair, round brown eyes, olive skin, and a triangle face staring at me with wide eyes. I let out a sigh and put the knife back into its strap before turning back to the punching bag now lying on the floor. I look up and see the chain has come undone, and I groan. They weigh about two hundred pounds, and I know there is no way I can hook it back up myself.

“Sorry to bother you…” The girl starts, and I close my eyes, trying to gain my composure so I don’t lash out at her. “Can you show me how to do that? ”

I let out a laugh that holds no humor and turn to face her. I give her a once-over before shaking my head. “Maybe another day. I need to get back to work.” I walk past her to the bench where I’d set down my bag.

“Are you okay?”

I look up at the girl, who is giving me a puzzled look as she glances between my hands, and my annoyed expression. “Yeah. I’m great.” I grumble as I walk over to the fountain and take a long drink of water. When I’m done, I glance back at the girl who is fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Why do you want to know how to box?”

“I think it would be good to know how to punch. Just in case… you know.”

I sigh, walking towards my bag, and shove it into a locker. “I’m teaching a self-defense class in thirty minutes. Sign up at the door if you want.” She nods, and I head to the front desk for my turn at check-in.

Over the next thirty minutes, I sign up three new members, which I find a bit odd but shake off as paranoia. I keep glancing over my shoulder, hoping the woman will leave. If she stays, I’ll be forced to teach the class, but if she leaves, I can go home.

It doesn’t take long for the next person to come and take over watching the front desk. I head upstairs, checking to see if she has stayed, and curse internally when she is sitting next to the closed door. I unlock the door and prop it open for anyone else who wants to join, then I start stretching, and the girl follows.

“What’s your name?”

“Vivian.” She says as she bends down to touch the floor. “Vivian…” I pause and eye her. “Have we met?”

“I don’t think so. ”

“I don’t forget faces very often, let alone names, but for some reason, I feel like we’ve met…”

“I don’t think so.” She repeats as she breaks eye contact and looks at the floor. Before I can respond, my coworker Brian enters the room.

“Ready?” He asks, but I keep my eyes on her. She looks back up at me with pleading eyes.

I stalk towards her, my voice dropping to a low growl.. “Do I know you? I won’t ask again.” I hiss.

“No.” Her voice is shaky, and she keeps fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

I narrow my eyes and open my mouth to speak, but Brian grabs my arm and pulls me back. I take a few deep breaths and touch my thumb to each of my fingers before walking to the back of the room with Brian.

“Everything okay?” He asks as he puts on the last of his padding.

“I don’t know,” I admit as I glance over at Vivian, whose eyes are wide with fear. She knows something. I turn back to Brian, who shrugs.

I take another deep breath and face her. “Vivian, Today you are going to learn how to defend yourself. These moves are used when an attacker is approaching or has given you any reason to suspect they intend to harm you.” She nods. “My friend Brian and I are going to have a sparring match here. He never gets any hits in.” I laugh as I take my spot across from him and square my shoulders, raising my arms. “That’s why he needs the pads and I don’t.” I turn my head and eye her, hoping she understood my underlying threat. When she avoids eye contact, I think I’ve made my point .

I look back at Brian, who is shaking his head and smiling. He knows the threat all too well. “Ready?” he asks after he has composed himself. I nod, and he gets into his fighting stance.

We spar for a few minutes as I talk through the steps. I show her the basics, where to aim and how to get out of certain holds. Once I think she understands, Brian and I commit to the fight. He doesn’t take it easy on me, and I’m always thankful for that.

When I finally pin him to the floor, I relax and stand, offering him my hand before turning to Vivian, who is looking at me in horror. She points to her arm, and I look down and sigh.

“It’s not from this.” I turn to Brian. “Would you mind getting me the first aid kit out of my gym bag?”

He nods and runs off, waddling in the padding. I look back at Vivian, who is still pale.

“Were you paying attention?” She nods. “What were the main spots I hit?”

“The face and stomach mostly.” She keeps her eyes locked on my arm as we talk.

“Correct. When it’s someone random, you aim for the face-aka, the nose, the shins, the throat, and of course, if he’s a male, you aim for the dick. You tap him once there, and he’ll go down.”

Brian enters the room again with my bag, and I rummage through it until I find the first aid kit. I pull out the needle and thread. “Woah,” Brian says as he eyes me. “You’re not going to go to the hospital?”

“Why would I do that?” I give him a puzzled look. “If you need stitches…”

“Who can afford insurance, right?” I laugh and pause, looking at the needle, my scar, then at Vivian. I didn’t think it was possible; she looks even paler. I quickly thread the needle and close my eyes as I enter the first stitch. As I am adding the three new stitches, realization sets in.

I put everything away, zip up my bag, and stand. I look over at Vivian, a murderous look on my face. She stiffens and takes a few small steps back as I approach. “I know where I know you from,” I grumble.

“I told you…” She starts, but I interrupt the lie.

“The elevator.” I hiss and clench my fists at my side. “Why are you here? How did you find me?” Brian starts to walk towards me, but I shoot him a warning glare over my shoulder.

“I don’t know.” The panic sets in and she starts to shake. “Vivian. I’m urging you to tell me right fucking now, or I swear

to god.” I seethe. When she doesn’t answer, I grab her throat and

shake her and press her into the wall hard. She whimpers, and tears start to spring to her eyes. She claws at my hands but I don’t let up. My eyes are wide with panic. What if they got to Jeremy? What if he is hurt? I start to squeeze and I snarl at her, trying to hide my spiraling thoughts. “Last. Chance.” I release just a little so she can speak.

“My brothers. Okay, my brothers sent me.” She gasps out.

I furrow my brows. “And who would your brothers be exactly?” “Ryker Domincio, and Lincoln Soren.” She whispers and closes

her eyes, keeping her hand gripped on mine.

My heart stops and my eyes widen. “What? Where are they?” My voice is so low and full of anger that I don’t even recognize it.

“I don’t know.” Her words come out rushed. “He s-said…” I release her, and she falls to the floor, gasping for air. I take a shaky step back. “He said to keep you here.” She huffs in another breath, and I sprint for my bag .

I can feel the blood dripping from my arm as I frantically dig through it. I grab the gun holster, strap it around the leg that doesn’t hold my knives, and then turn and point the gun at Vivian, who is still on the floor.

“Jesus Christ.” I hear Brian mutter as I take a step towards the door and put the bag on my shoulder. She puts her hands up as I bolt out of the room. When I head down the stairs, I can feel my heart racing as I scan the gym. I don’t see Manzo or any of the other bosses or Capos. I look at the men in the weight room and feel my blood turn to ice. It can’t be. He wouldn’t send low-level men.

I started to run past the front desk when I saw my name on an envelope. Knowing that was my paycheck, I grabbed it and sprinted out of the gym. My heart stops in my chest when I see the same battered blue car sitting in the parking lot.

“No,” I whisper. I turn around and see three men rushing toward the front door. I flip them all off and take off running.

This is all my fault. I should have just left. If I hadn’t stayed so long, if I had just left without the cash… I’ve been worse off. Why the hell did I stay? I repeat the mantra in my head over and over again as I run, making sure to keep my finger near the trigger the entire way.