12 Rounds (16 page)

Fear floods through me and my stomach lurches. I start to panic. Tapping my foot. Raking my teeth over my bottom lip. I can’t go back to that dark place. I  can’t go back to that night. Even if it’s in my dreams. “Are you…Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I stammer.

“Yes.” Satine sits back in her chair and taps the tip of her pen against her notepad. “I’m the professional, remember?”

“I remember,” I tell her.

What I don’t tell her is that you don’t have to rub it in.

~ ~ ~

After my appointment with Satine, as terrified as I am about lowering my dosage of the Ambien,  part of me feels like there has been a new found sense of hope instilled in me. In a way I feel liberated and free and I feel like doing something spontaneous. So I decide to go for a jog.

I know. I know.

Bold move, right?

Well it is for me anyway.

Even though it’s hot and humid out, there’s a slight breath of wind in the air, and when it trails along my skin my mind sails along with it to calming places. I thinking of happy times in my life. My youth. Baking cookies with my grandmother. The day I got my acceptance letter to CSU. I smile to myself. It’s at that moment that  I know for sure that my road to recovery is like climbing out of a deep ravine. I’m only about one hundred feet away from its wide opening, ready climb out. It’s like being reborn, living life for the first time.

A burst of excitement pumps through me and I push my legs harder, picking up speed, dodging deep cracks in the sidewalk.

For the first time ever I have this feeling.

A deep, throbbing feeling in my gut.

A feeling where I know everything will be all right.

That
I
will be all right.

Chapter Nineteen

~Connie~

The people Connor Doyle looked to as suspects when the feds started snooping  and a rat was involved were the members of his own organization. The members of the Braithreachas Don Saol. He and Aidan hid in a vacant apartment across the street from the four-plex where Sean Reilly lived. They’d investigated everyone else and the boy-o was the last person on Connie’s list.

It’s not like he ever wanted to suspect Sean. The boy was like a son to him. And on top of that, his own personal cash cow. Betting off Sean’s fights had made Connie even richer than he already was, and he loved the aspect of earning more money from the kid in the future. And he would have hated to have to cut the boy-o’s bright future short.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Aidan turned from the cracked blinds, a set of black binoculars in his hand. “I highly doubt that Sean is the rat were looking for.”

“Keep watching,” Connie commanded sternly. There was a large part of him that doubted the boy-o was the rat too, but a man could never be too sure. After all it was Brutus, Julius Ceasar’s best friend who turned on him. Stabbed his best friend in the God damned back.

Aidan shifted back toward the window, and placed the binoculars against his eyes. “He’s exiting the building.”

“And?” Connie waited a second. He knew his wingman would elaborate momentarily.

“He’s in his sweat suit. Most likely jogging to the gym.”

Connie drummed his fingers against the wall. He threw  his head back and let out a gust of air. Yes, Aidan was probably right. He was probably jogging to the gym. The kid had a title fight in about a week and Connie imagined his trainer was putting him through rounds and rounds of extensive workouts. “We’ll wait until he’s out of sight then we’ll follow him.” Connie had a feeling that his right hand man could also  be wrong though. The kid could be on to them. He was a lot smarter than he seemed and he could be posing like he was going to training, but really going to a secretive meet and greet with the feds.

Connie had seen it happen once before with the boy-o’s father. Patrick Reilly was a good man. A desperate  man who joined Connie’s organization shortly after he moved his family here from Ireland. And he was Connie’s best mate. They’d grown up together. Tore down the streets of Kerry, causing havoc and getting into mishchief. But something had happen to Patrick Reilly as he grew up, got married to the lovely Siobhan, and had his children.

He’d gotten soft.

Became the weaker man.

His family meant more to him than anything and as much as Connor respected him for that, he hated him for it as well. He used to know the Patrick Reilly who was fearless. The Patrick Reilly who’d take a bullet to the chest before he’d rat out one of his fellow members of the brotherhood. He thought of the last conversation he’d ever had with him.

“What we’re doing is wrong, Connie!” Patrick shouted. “I’ve got a wife. I’ve got kids. I don’t want them mixed up in this kind of shit.”

“But you knew that before you joined up, mate,” Connie replied levelly. “You were well aware of what you were getting yourself into.”

“I wasn’t,” he insisted. “You never told me you were mixed up in cocaine, Connie. You never told me that this was the kind of organization you were running. I’m sorry, but my son deserves  to have a father he can look up to. Not a father  who is a ringleader in organized crime and selling drugs.”

It was that moment that Connie heard a light tapping noise. It was almost scratchy, like it was coming from a microphone. He stilled as realization sank in, but he didn’t panic. Connie Doyle never panicked. Although it saddened  him a tiny bit to do what he was about to do, he knew he had to. Better Patrick than him. So Connie pushed aside the better half of himself that was screaming for him not to react to his best friend wearing a wire, and brought forth the lethal, cold blooded,  murdering side of him.

And just when Patrick panicked, and turned to run out the door, Connie whipped out his magnum 44 and put a hole right through Patrick’s skull.

Aidan set the binoculars down on an end table next to Connie. Connie nodded and followed Aidan out of the apartment. The whole way down the stairs he kept thinking of Sean, and prayed that he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps because Connie didn’t feel like shooting anyone today.

Chapter Twenty

~Sean~

I’m about three miles away from the gym when I see her jogging down the sidewalk. She looks adorable in her jogging shorts and I smile to myself as I jog up behind her.

There I go again with that word.

Adorable.

I groan.

I’m going to permanently delete it from my brain and my fucking vocabulary.

Hanging back, I remain at least a hundred feet away from her, not wanting her to know that I’m watching her.

That just her running fascinates me.

That even from where I’m standing she looks angelic.

The muscles in my stomach clench.

My heart beats out of sync.

Rays of glittering sunlight flit down from the heavens, and caress her pale shoulders. She looks like she’s glowing. Her hair is swept up into a ponytail, but a few strands have broken free from the grasp of her hair tie and dangle around her face.

I close my eyes and I can see her in my mind.

She’s smiling.

Her smile is wide and radiant.

Her big blue eyes sparkle as her smile touches them.

My eyes snap open and I stop running. I keep my eyes on Hadlee as she hangs a left and disappears from my view.

Then I hold my head in my hands in start pacing.

Yes. I am totally freaking out.

There’s an internal battle royale going on inside of me.

My mind has a sword. 

My heart has a shield.

And the clashing of the metal when it connects throbs in my temples.

It doesn’t matter how many times my mind tells me not to go there my heart disagrees with it. The truth is—I want this girl.

And not just to do naughty things with her.

Although that has definitely crossed my mind.

More than a few times.

But those thoughts are always interrupted by the tiny voice of reason. That voice that always pops up when I don’t want it to.
Hasn’t the girl been through enough? What could you possibly give her except for lies and pain? You don’t even know how to be in a relationship.

That’s the truth, I scoff to myself. I’m one blind mother fucker when it comes to relationships. A big part of that is probably because I told myself a long  time ago that I’d never enter into one.

Now look at me.

I’m pining over an angel, a girl who I know is good, and pure, and innocent.

That’s something I’ll never be.

I’ll never be the good guy. I know this. I’ve accepted it.

I’ll always be corrupted. Doing illegal things. I’ll always be the villian, tying up the damsel in distress and leaving her on the metal tracks, while her hero rides in on his horse and comes to her rescue before the steam locomotive coming at her crushes her body and spirits.

Bouncing lightly, from right foot to left, I start jogging again. I need to clear my head. I pick up speed and start sprinting. I’m trying to think about my fight on Friday. I’m trying to think about how Avery Mullins face will look when my bright red glove connects with his jaw.

But I keep coming up short.

Hadlee’s picture keeps swelling in my mind.

Then there’s my heart.

It’s racing.

Speeding.

Sprinting like an Olympic athlete hurling around that last stretch of track, a breath away from the finish line.

My heart is telling me that I should give this thing I’m feeling for Hadlee a shot. It speaks to me, saying that I deserve a tiny bit of happiness for everything I’ve sacrificed.

But the question is, how long will that happiness last?

I’ve never dropped my guard.

I’ve never let myself get hurt. By a woman, I mean. I’ve never let myself get involved long enough to get to that point. Something tells me that Hadlee isn’t the type of person who would intentionally hurt someone, but still. What if I hurt her? Even if I don’t mean to, what if something happens and I wind up hurting her?

That’s not something I’m sure I could live with.

I’ve never felt more confused.

Or tortured.

Or felt like I’m in the middle of the boxing ring going round for round with myself.

I feel like punching someone.

Or something.

I jab at air instead.

It doesn’t make me feel any better. I throw in a combination thinking that might help.

Left uppercut.

Right uppercut.

Left jab.

Left jab.

Right hook.

I’m still a confused mess inside.

Here’s the funny thing about emotions when it comes to dealing with the heart and mind. It doesn’t take a person long to learn that the heart always wins.

~ ~ ~

After training, I walk into my condo to find Tee sitting on my couch, my television remote in her hand, and she’s watching one of those Real Housewife shows. I close the door and lock it, “I assumed you’d call first,” I say. When I spin around to face her I realize by the scowl on her face that that was the wrong thing to say.

Tee has a key to my place in case of emergencies. Well, not only that, but I figure when any day could be my last, it’s a good thing that Tee already has a key. She could get a call anytime and that means anything I have will then be hers. But sometimes I regret giving her that key so soon.

Now is one of those times.

I just don’t get women sometimes, and the way they love popping in on people at random.

Tee cuts straight to the point. “We need to talk about yesterday.”

I groan. I really don’t want to talk about yesterday. I’d rather forget that it happened. I change the subject, hoping it might derail the nagging conversation that’s going to ensue in a few minutes. “Where’s Embry?”

“Emerson,” she corrects me with a growl. “His name is Emerson.”

I shrug and plop down next to her. Embry. Emerson. It sounds close enough to me. “Well, where is he?”

“At the hotel,” she snaps. “You scared the shit out of him yesterday.”

“What a pussy,” I chuckle.

 Tee slaps my shoulder, hard. “It’s not funny, Seany. You’re my brother. I love you. You don’t even know how excited I was for you to meet him and you completely ruined that meeting.” Her voice drops a level. “All I want is for you to be nice to him. You don’t have to like him. But just be nice to him for my sake. Please.” She looks up at me with pleading eyes. Tears glisten in the corners and all of my hard edge drifts  into a part of my brain that I don’t use too often.

“That’s what you want, Tee?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Seany.”

She wipes her eyes with her thumb. Aside from this new Hadlee thing, Tee is my one and only weakness. I can never tell her no. And I’m more pissed at myself than  anything for making her cry. “You got it Tee. I’ll be nice to Emb—er—I mean Emerson.” Even though he has a fruity name. “I’ll tell you what, you tell him to text me in the morning and I’ll treat him to breakfast.”

Her red, rimmed eyes glisten  with hope. “Really, Sean? You mean that?”

“I do. You’re my family. You mean the world to me. If you want me to get along with him, I’ll do it for you. But,” I hold up my hand, “I’d like to have a man to man chat with him first.”

What I don’t say is that I’m going to let this little punk know exactly what he’s in store for if he ever hurts Teagan. There’s a black trash bag and gun involved with that mental threat.

Tee throws her arms around me with a squeal and I relax beneath her embrace. “Thank you so much, Seany,” she gushes. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I pat her back gently and she pulls out of the hug. “So tell me about how you guys met.”

Tee rambles on, excitement gleaming bright in her green eyes. She fills me in about Emerson and how he’s a pre-law student at Brown. I smile and think about how it might be nice to have a lawyer in the family. You never know when an extra one could come in handy. Tee continues with her story about how they first met in the campus library and they immediately clicked. She tells me that from their first date she felt like she’d met her match, her other half.