Chapter 2
Zane Merrick reared back his fist before letting it fly forward and hitting the tan leather bag hard. It trembled under the violence. He did it again and again, yet that pit in his gut didn’t go away.
Hitting a bag had once brought him peace. It had allowed his mind to quiet and the world around him to disappear.
That hadn’t happened for over a year. Since before everything had gone down with Monty.
He punched the bag harder, the thump of his fist hitting leather the only sound in the quiet gym. His gym. The Pit. The place didn’t open for another hour. Exactly why he liked to work out now…because he liked the quiet. The noise of an open gym didn’t compete with the noise in his head.
He jabbed the bag then lifted his leg to kick it, rage sitting in his gut like a rock. The same rage that had been there since Monty, his cousin, a man who was family, had done the unthinkable.
Zane had been through a lot in his thirty-five years. His time as an Army Ranger almost broke him. Then his years in the UFC had tested him both physically and mentally. He’d fought world champions and won. But this last year…fuck, it had been hard.
Punch, punch, kick.
Sweat beaded his forehead, the muscles in his shoulders aching. He didn’t stop. He didn’t even think about stopping. He wanted to feel so damn exhausted that he had nothing left.
Jab, hook.
Air soared in and out of his lungs. Six months. That’s how long it had been since that asshole was sentenced. Now Monty would spend the rest of his worthless life behind bars—like he deserved.
Just because Monty was locked up didn’t mean he didn’t have access to the outside world though. He had money, and money bought things a person behind bars shouldn’t have.
The next punch was so powerful, the bag swung wide.
Zane caught it. Steadied it. Then he pressed his temple to the leather and breathed. It was hard. But he was used to hard. Good at hard.
When he eventually stepped away from the bag and pulled the wraps off his hands, his gaze went to the window that overlooked the street.
It felt good to be out of Billings. To be somewhere people didn’t know what he’d been through and the media didn’t hound him. Thankfully, all that shit had only made local news…and that’s where it would stay—in Billings.
He’d just dropped the wraps when he heard the click of the door opening.
His head swung around. A wall separated the hall from the rest of the gym, so he couldn’t see the person, and when no one stepped around, he frowned.
Who the hell was it?
He moved toward the hall, only for his frown to deepen at the sight of a woman leaning against the door. She was short, with long brown hair that had blond streaks through it. Her eyes were closed. Not just closed—squeezed tight. And her palms and back were flush against the door.
She didn’t seem to hear him as he closed the distance between them. Because her chest was heaving?
Was she scared? Was she hiding from something? Or someone?
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes flashed open. Beautiful hazel eyes. And so fucking expressive that a million emotions passed through them. Shock. Confusion. Recognition. “Hi.”
Her soft voice was kind of breathless. From whatever she was hiding from? Or him?
He’d seen her at The Tea House a week ago. Two assholes had tried to mess with her, and he’d been a second away from stepping in, but she hadn’t needed saving. She’d thrown one of the jerks onto his ass and saved herself.
He checked the window beside the door, then returned his gaze to her. “I’m Zane.”
“Bonnie.”
Bonnie. It fit. Pretty. Simple. Different. “Is everything okay, Bonnie?”
She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder at the wooden door before looking back at him. “I just need somewhere to hide for a second. Is that okay?”
“Are you in danger?”
“Not the physical kind. At least, I don’t think the physical kind. But what’s out there could definitely hurt me.”
What the hell was she talking about? Whatever it was, for some damn reason, if this woman needed shelter, he wanted to give it to her.
She glanced down at his chest, and there was the smallest flaring of her eyes before her gaze shot back up.
He stepped back. He was big. Big enough to come across as a threat. “Stay as long as you need.”
He headed back toward his bag.
The soft pad of footsteps sounded behind him. “This is the place you mentioned? Your gym?”
He paused, their conversation the week prior coming back to him. After those assholes had messed with her, he’d offered to let her train here. “This is it.”
“It looks great. Actually, it looks like the kind of place my brother and cousins would like.”
He turned. “Who’s your brother?”
“His name’s Noah. He was a Marine. And my cousins are all badass military guys too.”
Zane lifted his bag to his shoulder. “I’ve met Noah.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. We went a round in the ring.”
Her focus flickered to the octagonal ring before flinging back to him, an emotion he couldn’t place crossing her face. Longing? Why the hell would that be her first emotion at the mention of her brother?
“Have you been in a ring before?” he asked.
“Once or twice. I’ve done a lot of self-defense classes.” Her brow creased. “Have you ever offered any kind of classes?”
“No. This place isn’t really built for that.”
She nodded almost absently, and when she glanced out the window, she gasped and stepped back so the hallway wall covered her.
He followed her gaze to two women crossing the road outside the gym, one older and one maybe early thirties. He looked back at Bonnie. It wasn’t fear in her eyes. Apprehension? “You know them?”
“Knew them. I haven’t seen them since the last time I was here.”
“Was that a long time ago?” Why the fuck did he ask that? It wasn’t his business, and he shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.
“Thirteen years.” She looked at the window again, even though the women were gone.
“That’s a long time to be gone, considering you have family here.”
“It took me longer than I thought it would to come back. Guess we’re not all built with courage.”
She thought she didn’t have courage?
She continued to frown at the window. “It feels different…the town. I mean, I knew it would but—” She suddenly stopped and shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t care about this.”
That was the thing—even though he’d just told himself he didn’t care, for some goddamn reason, he did.
The door suddenly opened. “Yo, boss, the door’s unlocked. Did you—” The twenty-one-year-old stopped at the desk at the end of the hall. “Oh. Sorry, I—” He frowned at Bonnie. “Hey. You look familiar. Do I know you?”
Her eyes widened.
“Yeah.” Stetson moved closer. “You dated my cousin.”
She swallowed like she was suddenly nervous. Why would she be nervous of Stetson? He was like a puppy dog.
“I’m Stetson. Dean’s little cousin. Although, I’m not eight anymore.” He laughed. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“I got here a couple weeks ago.” Anxiety. It wove through her words.
What the fuck had happened between her and this Dean guy?
Stetson shook his head. “Sad what happened to my cousin. But just so you know, I never bought into anything my aunt and uncle said about you. Even at eight, I was too smart for that.”
“Thanks. I, um, should go.” She looked up at Zane. “Thanks for letting me hide in here.”
He dipped his head.
She smiled, and fuck, that hesitant curve of her lips did something that it absolutely shouldn’t. It felt like a kick to his gut.
She disappeared into the hall, and there was a quiet click of the door closing.
“I can’t believe she’s back,” Stetson said, almost to himself. “I wonder if Jane and Carlos know.”
“Jane and Carlos?”
“My aunt and uncle. Awful people.” Stetson looked at Zane’s raised brow.
“You think I’m joking? I’m not. They made a lot of money on some good investments and it went straight to their heads.
Think they’re right all the time when they’re not.
But their son died, so Mom and Dad think I should cut them some slack. ”
“So this Dean guy’s dead?”
“Yep. Died thirteen years ago.”
Thirteen years ago…when Bonnie had left.
“Do you want—”
“No.” Zane cut the kid off. He knew exactly what Stetson was going to ask. If he wanted the story. He didn’t. Or at least, he shouldn’t. Because he should mind his own damn business. He checked the window one last time, but she wasn’t there. “I’m going to shower.”
“You got it, boss.”
His lips twitched. This is why he’d hired the kid. Stetson wasn’t great at the bag or in the ring, but he was likable and worked hard, two things Zane valued.
In the changing room, before getting into the shower, he lifted his cell and texted Ethan. The man wasn’t just a childhood friend from their hometown of Deep River, he was also a former Navy SEAL who’d made a business out of finding information that most couldn’t.
Zane: He’s still there, right?
The response was immediate.
Ethan: He’s in there for life, Zane. He’s not going anywhere.
The same response Zane always got. And yeah, Monty had been put away for life. He should spend the rest of his days rotting in Montana State Prison.
So why did Zane feel so fucking uneasy?