Vigilant (12 page)

“Did you just admit you were wrong?”

“Be nice and I’ll buy you more popcorn.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Deal.”

* * *

Ari watched the final fight through her fingers. It was intense. Really intense.

As the two boys pummeled each other she realized she’d never seen anything like it. Engaged in a mixture of martial arts and boxing, the two boys flew through the air, as though they were weightless. Except when they connected and then it was like an earthquake rocked the gym. Even over the cheering crowd she could hear their heavy breathing and grunts, both trying to get the upper hand. The boys fought tirelessly, wrestling one another to the ground, using their feet and fists and bodies.

“How old are these kids?” Oliver asked. His eyes glued to the match.

“Eighteen?” Ari guessed, flipping through her program. That number seemed too young. They seemed like men, powerful and strong. Maybe Davis fed them steroids.

Alvarez represented the GYC. Stocky, with a barrel chest. He looked like a tank instead of a kid. Ari flinched as he flipped to the ground, his legs swiped from under him by his opponent, Jordan. He landed with a thud but was back up in an instant, swinging his fists, slamming them into Jordan’s chest.

Clearly outmatched, it was only a matter of minutes before Jordan fell for the last time. The referee called the fight.

After holding his arms up in victory, Alvarez reached out a gloved hand and helped Jordan off the ground. They shook hands, even gave each other a sweaty hug and the announcer called the fight to an end.

“I’d like to catch Curtis if I can,” Ari told Oliver, so they pushed through the crowd to the athletes. The guys were pumped, revisiting the fights and it took Ari a minute to squeeze through a pack of sweaty boys to reach her client.

“Ms. Grant?” he said in surprise when he saw her. Ari noted the bandage on an old wound over his eye and a new, reddish-purple bruise under his jaw. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking up on you. You did a great job tonight.”

Oliver pushed past her and held out his hand. Curtis didn’t hesitate this time like he had with Davis that first day. He eagerly accepted it. “Excellent fight. Can’t wait to see the next one,” Oliver gushed.

“Thank you,” Curtis said, adding a “sir,” to the end. Wow. Maybe this program really was changing him.

Fans of all ages surrounded the athletes and many wanted to offer their congratulations. Oliver turned to talk to some of the other boys, leaving Ari with Curtis.

“We’re going to go, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I was to see you accomplish this.”

“Thanks,” he said. His eyes darted to the ground. “Umm…can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think you could bring my mom and my grandma next time?” he scratched the back of his neck. “You know, if it’s not any trouble?”

Ari smiled and nodded. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll make sure Davis gives me a schedule, okay?”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling in return. The instant she stepped away from Curtis, a crowd of admirers rushed toward him.

“Come on,” she said to Oliver, tugging on his shirt. She caught him in the middle of a conversation with Peter, and Oliver clapped him on the back as he walked away.

Over the loudspeaker, the announcer informed the athletes they had five minutes until they were required to go back to the locker rooms and for attendees to head out.

“So you’re besties with everyone around here now, huh?”

Oliver shrugged in his easy way. “I like this place. These guys are kind of cool. Peter says that besides the fighting, they spend a lot of time on parkour.”

“Oh yeah?” Ari knew this of course, having seen Davis at the club.”

“Have you seen it? It’s like backflips and jumps. Using regular stuff like walls or stairs to get from place to place.”

They followed the rest of the people leaving, passing by the now empty rings. Ari searched for Davis, hoping she would see him before she left, but the crowd was too thick and he was most likely busy anyway.

“I’ve got to use the restroom,” Ari said, as they entered the lobby. Oliver rolled his eyes. “Meet you out front?”

“Yep,” he said, being carried away by the crowd. Ari ducked into the ladies’ room, and took her place at the standard too-long-ladies’-room line. When she finished, she dried her hands on her jeans since the paper towels were out, and walked back into the lobby. The entire gym was empty except for a couple of guys cleaning up.

Pulling her gloves out of her pocket, Ari tugged them on. She pushed the door open with her hip and stepped into the parking lot. The cool air hit her face and she saw Davis standing in the middle of the parking lot talking to a tall guy with a blue bandana wrapped around his head. A Glory baseball hat sat askew on top. Davis’s jaw set, clenched so tight she could see the muscle bunching in his jaw. At some point she would have to thank him for the tickets. And break the ice.

Ari took a step forward and the door closed behind her with a slam. Everyone turned to stare. She made eye contact with Davis and smiled. He didn’t smile back.

“Don’t move!” the guy said, pulling a gun out from behind his back. Even from across the parking lot it was leveled clearly at her face.

Ari’s hands immediately shot in the air, palms faced out.

“He has a gun!” Ari heard from the crowd on the fringe of the parking lot. From the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver.

“It’s okay,” Ari said to the gunman. She took a deep breath, fighting the panic of being in a situation like this again. Now that he faced her, she realized he was younger than she thought. An older teen. Just like the group of thuggish-looking kids circling behind him, tense and ready to back him up.

Davis looked between Ari and the guy. Calmly, he said, “Antonio, put the gun down.”

Ari lowered her hands and Antonio shouted, “Back up! You may be one of them!”

She jerked her hands back up.

Them? Great. This guy was crazy. Delusional or something. Ari waited, on…well something. Davis? The police? She didn’t even know why this guy had a gun on her.

“You know there’s no violence on the property and we have zero tolerance for weapons,” Davis said. He took a step toward Antonio. The boy swung the gun away from Ari and pointed it at Davis. They were only feet apart.

Oliver called her name, “Ari!” and she turned to him. He frantically waved her toward a parked car. She snapped to her senses, pulling her eyes from Antonio and Davis’s standoff. She ran as fast as she could.

“No!” A woman yelled, but her voice was silenced by the shot. Loud and echoing against the metal building. Ari’s body slammed to the ground, the wind knocked out of her lungs. She skidded backwards, landing on the hard pavement.

Holy crud, that hurt.

She lifted her head, rubbing the side of her face where she’d scraped it against the pavement. Antonio was on the ground. Peter stood over him, holding the gun, one foot on his back. The gang of men that had backed him up had scattered, running into the dark. She lay back down on the cold, hard pavement. The realization that she’d been injured—maybe shot—washed over her. Her chest ached and she couldn’t see straight due to the wooziness in her head. She rubbed her chest, searching for the blood.

“Oliver,” she called. Why he hadn’t come looking for her yet?

Her name came from the dark and she twisted her head. Davis lay next to her, his dark eyes narrowed and tight.

Blood oozed from his shoulder, spreading wet and thick across his shirt.

“Oh, God,” Ari said, struggling to sit up. Her head swam. “Help! Someone help!”

“I’m okay,” he said softly.

“No, you aren’t.” The panic that had been building in her chest amplified. “Over here!”

“Ari!” Oliver called. Boyd and another man rushed over. They started to help her up, but she pointed at Davis.

“He’s hurt. Take him to the hospital.” She looked up again and saw Oliver. “Hey, why are there two of you?” she asked waving her hand in his direction.

The men glanced at one another while Boyd leaned over to check Davis. “Call an ambulance,” was the last thing Ari heard before everything went black.

TWELVE

The elevator doors opened to the eighth floor of the hospital. Ari stepped out and stopped at the nurse’s desk. The young blonde woman barely looked up, focused on her work. “I’m looking for a, uh, friend of mine.” The title “friend” seemed to be pushing it a little but it seemed like the right thing to say. “His name is Davis, he has a gunshot wound.”

The nurse finally looked at Ari, noticing the road rash on the side of her face and the cut over her eye. If she could only see Ari’s back. Her frown said enough, but she ran her finger down the patient list.

“Room 814. Visiting hours are over at nine.”

The clock over the desk said eight-fifteen. She’d pushed the visitation off all day, feeling unsure and confused about coming. In fact, Oliver didn’t want her to come at all, but she’d insisted and he was downstairs now, waiting in the main lobby reading a magazine. She wasn’t allowed to drive yet, not with the concussion, but there was no reason to stay at home. Not when she owed Davis a thank you.

Plus, she had questions.

Ari left the desk and followed the long hallway until she found the room. His name, “Davis” was on a slip of paper, tucked in the nameplate by the door.

I guess they didn’t get a full name, either, she thought.

She knocked and to her surprise, the door swung open, leaving her face-to-face with Peter. A crease appeared on his forehead and Ari said, “I just came by to see how he’s doing.”

Peter pushed the door open farther, revealing Davis in the bed. Their eyes locked and she smiled in relief. The last time she saw him, his skin had paled from the loss of blood and he’d been unable to move off the ground. Now he was propped up in bed, with a half-eaten meal tray in front of him. Her eyes wandered to the bandage on the corner of his bare shoulder.

“You should be in bed,” Davis said. His voice was soft and concerned.

“I’ve been in bed all day. I wanted to see how you were.”

They stared at one another.

“Since Ms. Grant is here to sit with you, I’m going down to the café. Want anything?” Peter said from behind her.

“Something edible?”

“I’ll try.” The huge man left, immediately allowing more space in the tight room. He also took whatever sense of ease there had been, even if minimal. She was alone with Davis, who was bare-chested and wounded. She found his skin distracting. Brown and muscular, but also battered and scarred. A hospital I.D. bracelet wrapped around his right wrist, while fluids dripped into a needle taped to his inner forearm. The leather band he constantly wore was strapped around the left. She saw the fresh wound he’d gotten from protecting her, but then also a thick, twisted scar, slicing under his collarbone. She’s seen it in her dark room, but under the glaring hospital lights, it looked gruesome. Her fingers twisted in the top button of her shirt.

“Come here,” he instructed, waving her to the bed. “How’s your head?”

“Better than your arm,” she said. He reached out and she bent over so he could see her face. Davis cupped her chin in his hand and ran a thumb lightly over the spot. Ari winced and he pulled his hand back.

“Peter said you have a concussion. Did you drive here?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “Oliver’s downstairs.”

“Your boyfriend? The one you came with last night?”

“My roommate. Oliver’s not my boyfriend,” she laughed. Her boyfriend, or almost boyfriend didn’t know about the shooting yet. “That’d be like dating my brother.”

Davis pointed at a chair near the bed and said, “You can sit if you want.”

“So,” Ari said, after easing into the hard vinyl chair. “Can you explain what happened last night? I walked out of the building and into a war zone.”

Davis shifted, grimacing with the movement, so that he was sitting up a little higher. “Antonio was in my program at one time. He wasn’t successful.”

“That sounds like an understatement.”

“I told you we have a small failure rate. He was one of them. He couldn’t commit to the program and kept going back to his old habits. Drug running and guns. Neither of those are acceptable.”

“So why did he come last night?”

“Guess he heard about the event.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I think he knows he made a mistake. Antonio has a lot of talent. He wasted his opportunity and he realized it. I guess he wanted payback.”

“By shooting you?”

“You know better than anyone that logic rarely plays into these kids’ actions.”

“What did he mean when he said I could be one of ‘them’?” Ari asked. “The drugs make him paranoid, Ari. He’s had a hard time with it. He went from our program to rehab. I’m guessing it didn’t work.”

They stared at one another for a minute, tension building between the two of them. Ari had something else to ask. Something to show him but she didn’t know if she had the nerve. After another moment of silence she broke down and said, “You’re fast,” while fidgeting with her blouse.

Davis nodded. “Very.”

“You got between me and that bullet. I didn’t even see it happen.”

“You were already halfway to the ground.”

“I don’t think I was.”

Davis’s eyes were coal black and unrelenting. Ari tried her hardest to meet them. She stood and sat next to him on the hospital bed. “I thought I’d been hit. I could barely breathe it hurt so bad.” She laid a hand on her chest. “But the bullet hit you. Not me.” With Davis watching every movement she unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt, spreading the fabric wide.

Every time she’d been with Davis, he’d been composed. Cocky at the club, confident in bed. Even at the shooting the other night, he never wavered. Staring down the barrel of the gun. But what he saw on Ari’s chest made him flinch. She didn’t know if it was pain or anger. She started to cover herself back up but he stopped her, reaching out to grab her wrist.

“I woke up with this bruise,” Ari said. The pit of her stomach fluttered under his touch.

Davis held his hand to her chest, balled in a fist but hovering over the purple mark. Wincing from the pain in his shoulder he leaned over and laid his palm flat on her chest. She knew what he was doing. She knew the bruise was a match.