Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Danika
The Steel Valley Chain’s gym has been my safe place lately.
With the early morning sessions I give myself, it’s been both a mental and physical addiction.
Honestly, Tank trusting me with a spare key is crazy.
I wasn’t going to accept such a generous offer, but he insisted and I’m glad I decided to take it, because being here is part of my healing journey.
Although, with the security cameras surrounding this place, I can see why he doesn’t have to worry about me doing anything suspicious.
It’s six am and freezing but I want to do this.
After the other day with the incident in front of the diner, I’ve been itching for a stress relief.
There is a brief second when I thought about yoga and revisiting the art that used to give me such calmness over my mind.
Over my body. But there’s something holding me back.
I’m angry about it. Which hurts my heart in the process.
It’s another thing he stole from me. Stripped me of.
So this will have to do for now.
With each closed fist to the punching bag, they roar out in pain down both arms.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
Kick.
Punch.
Sweat drips down my forehead as my body heats underneath my sweatshirt. My ponytail swings with every force and every blow.
I pause catching my breath for only half a minute before starting again. And again. And again. Right punch. Left punch. My deep scream echoes off the soaring ceilings and along the walls I let out with every hit.
“Little rabbit.”
Punch.
“You’re mine.”
Punch.
Kick.
Scream.
My knuckles bleed but I don’t care. I keep going as the pain vibrates in each elbow.
Again.
Again.
And again.
Until… I can’t fight anymore, and my body gives up.
Unreleased tears hang on by a thread as I sink down onto the cushioned gym floor.
With my legs and feet tucked under my body, my chest rapidly heaves in and out.
It’s like I’m fighting everything out of me.
All the bad. His hands on me. On my bare skin.
Him inside me. I want it out. I want it gone.
I need it to be gone.
My shoulders shudder, the tears pouring out, dripping onto my hands below. I thought I was okay. When will I ever be okay?
The taste of salt is from the mix of sweat and tears as I attempt to swipe it away using the back of my hand.
The sun begins to peak through the morning clouds, and a motorcycle sounds nearby vibrating outside the gym building. Sure, I’m next to a motorcycle club, but who rides in the dead of winter? In the freezing cold. It’s not the first motorcycle I’ve noticed out in this either.
Odd.
My body feels like Jello as I continue straining to catch my breath, but also as I try to get a glimpse of who’s outside.
I press my hands to the cold glass as the motorcycle comes to a stop just in front of the shop.
The club member swings his leg over the seat, and I recognize the tall frame of whom the body belongs to.
He takes off his helmet followed by his hat and ski mask once protecting his face.
The tousled dark hair flows freely as Hush tucks his winter gear into the saddle bag.
His strong features on complete display as the sunrise reflects off every part of his beautiful face adding more of a dramatic mystery about him.
Is the weird attachment and curiosity only because he protected me back then? Him being my safe haven. Who is Hush? What are his secrets? Surely, he has them. No man is that shut off from the world without something troubling their soul.
He runs a strong inked hand through his hair, shaking out parts that were drowned by his hat. Then he pauses, hand no longer intertwined in his hair, but his eyes flick to mine. With a gasp I jump back and away from the frosty glass.
Crap.
I slowly stalk back to the window as he closes the lid to his steel saddle bag.
My heart pounds, but I’m unable to peel my curious gaze away.
Then the moment’s lost when he unlocks the shop, disappearing inside.
The feeling when he looks at me is indescribable. Could be lethal, dangerous, but I’m not afraid.
Hush
Hours dripped away as I exit the spray booth.
My mind wonders to the same petite copper haired woman who slammed into this life against her will but hasn’t left.
I won’t push her away, but the frustration of her blankets over me like a hot summer day.
I can’t explain it more than I can stop thinking of her staring at me this morning.
What was the look? Curiosity? Is my life that amusing I’m to be gawked at like an experiment? Something tells me that wasn’t the case, but whatever it is, she’s still a riddle.
Tank approaches wiping the grease from his hands. “She needs a transmission and some body work. But I think she’ll be good as new when I get done with her.”
The rust bucket has been parked in the corner of the shop since it was brought in. Toyota Camry’s sure did earn their worthy title though, the heap of metal being an early 2000’s model.
“Owner not coming back for it?”
Tank shakes his head, peering at the car before turning his attention back to me. “Nah. Said to take it off his hands. He only cared about fixing his Harley, gave us a hundred bucks to scrap it. Dude wasn’t exactly living in fear of breaking the bank.”
No doubt that was the case. Though he’d probably only get about a thousand bucks for it anyhow. We only deal with motorcycles, but Tank doesn’t seem to have a problem fixing it up.
“I’ll work on it.” Not sure why, but I have an itch to be the one who brings it back to life.
“You sure, brother?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it.” I can paint, but I also know how to change up a transmission. Besides, I’d already finished up a big job and I’m free for a bit.
“All right. Cool, man. No rush. Don’t really know what we’re gonna do with her when she’s finished. Guess having an extra ride won’t hurt any.” Tank scratches his beard. “Though, not sure if any of us can actually fit inside,” he mutters as he walks away.
Outside the shop, I catch sight of Danika leaving the clubhouse, wrapping her coat closer to her as she steps down the hill from our small community.
I wait for her next move and that’s when Tequila barrels after her, both heading for Tequila’s car. The weather sucks and her neighborhood sucks worse. The idea of her walking anywhere from her apartment creates an unease over me.
With force, I pry my thoughts away. I don’t want to be thinking of her. Don’t want to be concerned about why or what is happening in her life. Telling myself I don’t give a damn will make things easier. For the both of us.
The heel of my boot scrapes against the pavement as I head inside the club, not daring to glance back over my shoulder.
Last night was a shit night. Insomnia got the better part of me even though my body screamed for sleep.
I kick my door shut once I’m upstairs and flop down on the mattress.
Sheets are still tucked in like a housekeeper had been here.
Maggie likes to play the role of mother, washing our sheets and making up our beds like we’re teenaged boys.
Her boys. I suppose it isn’t a terrible thing.
It makes me think of my own mother every time Maggie did it.
With my ankles crossed and my hands behind my head, I finally doze off.
Gracie hung up her bag and coat, then collapsed onto the couch beside me. Her flowery perfume invaded me as she slid closer. She looked exhausted as she tucked her sweater in and over her. Her scrubs always left at the hospital.
With a heavy sigh, she laid her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. “It was another busy one today.” Her answer repeated every damn time she ended a shift.
“Every day is busy at the hospital,” I said, playing with a strand of her silklike hair.
“True. I just… I wish I could do more.”
Gracie being an ER nurse, she saw her fair share of deaths. And it weighed heavily on her each time. Stripped her of her mental sanity little by little when she couldn’t save someone. Knowing it mentally pained her, pains me.
“There was this girl about my age. She had just lost her parents, and she sat there alone and so sad. I couldn’t leave her there by herself, so I sat with her.”
That was the kind of person Gracie was. She wanted to help everyone.
“You have a good heart.” I kissed the top of her head as she burrowed into me more.
“You always say such nice things to me.”
“I say what’s true.”
She yawned, already closing her eyes again.
“You hungry?” I asked, surveying the weight of her shoulders dissipating.
“Not really. I had a big lunch.”
“You should eat something.” I’ve noticed small changes in her appetite, and I felt like work stressed her out to the point she didn’t want to eat.
“Tell me about your day. How’s the new house coming?”
Building a house wasn’t easy. The hours sucked. The weather conditions were shit sometimes. But I liked that it didn’t interfere with spending time with Gracie. Our hours always lined up somehow. And I liked the physical labor of being in construction.
“It’s getting there.” I let out a yawn with a stretch of my back.
“And you say I’m the one who’s exhausted.” Gracie’s breathing slowed. Her small breaths pressed against my shoulder.
“Mine’s a different tired. Yours is—”
Her breathing grew a notch louder, letting me know she fell asleep.
I continued to stroke her hair and let it string between my fingers until I slowly drifted off, too.
“Liem… Liem…”
Fuck.
It always ends the same way. Gracie calling out for me. But I’m never able to reach her.
I tear my eyes away from the ceiling, throwing my legs off the bed. It’s still dark outside, and when I check my phone, the time reads a little after four in the morning. There’s no way in hell I can go back to sleep now, so I throw on sweatpants, and an old shirt and head out for the gym.
The clubhouse is silent and dark. There aren’t a lot of times that happened, and it almost feels eerie because of it.
I don’t bother putting on a jacket since the gym is only next door, but as I step outside, the frosty air makes me abnormally shiver. I’m normally immune to the frigid temperatures, but this morning feels different.
We all had a key to get inside Tank’s gym. Shit, all of us are here more than he is at times. He has his own private gym at his place anyhow and that’s why he lets Angel take the reins of co-managing the gym here most of the time.
Before sticking my key inside the lock, I notice a light from inside is on, but it’s coming from the back, and I can’t see past the wall. Figuring someone forgot to turn it off last night before closing, I realize I don’t need my key and then enter.
The only sound is the pounding of the treadmill running. Okay, so someone is obviously here working out. And my money is on Danika.
I creep inside slowly, and as I round the corner getting a whiff of the fruity vanilla scent, I spot copper hair. The flow of it swaying back and forth is familiar.
Danika sprints on the treadmill, her body pushing itself to the most extreme it can.
Sweat trickles down her bare back, disappearing into the material of her sports bra that clings to her skin.
She has earbuds in which is probably why she doesn’t hear me.
The area here is safe, but regardless, I don’t like the fact she’s oblivious to her surroundings.
Her outfit shows off her toned body. The lean muscles of her quads bend with every hit of the treadmill under her tight leggings. The pounding of each step vibrates off the treadmill belt, but she doesn’t falter. Keeps going. Keeps pushing.
The large mirror hanging off to the side lining the entire wall gives me full access to her features.
The sweat trickles her brows and cascades down her neck.
Her eyes are shut off, empty as she runs like her life depends on it.
But it’s when she glances to the right and spots me, the echo of her scream fills the gym.
Shit.
She hops up from the moving belt, allowing the arms of the treadmill to hold her weight. Her back and chest rise and fall to catch her breath while she yanks her earbuds out. “You scared the shit out of me,” she says, her words coming out in a struggle.
I approach her. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” Unsure of my next move, I stand there with eyes locked on hers. “I didn’t know anyone would be here. I’ll go.”
She jets out a hand, latching on to my forearm. With an involuntary flinch, she snatches it back, her eyes slit in confusion. “No. Stay. You won’t bother me if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I don’t like to be touched and I’m not entirely sure what I thought about her being here. I suppose her wanting her privacy crossed my mind. Or it’s me who wants to be alone. Regardless, I nod and give her what she wishes.
Danika slowly turns away, the sound of the treadmill belt still going at the speed she was previously sprinting to. She taps the button, and the belt slows all while she sticks her earbuds back in. She continues with a fast walk, and I head toward the front to where the weights are.
Sometimes I’d start my workout with a run, but instead, I grab a set of dumbbells, doing a few warmup motions for my shoulders. But I do end up stealing a few glances behind me.