She froze. A whole-body, couldn’t-walk-another-step kind of freeze. Because she recognized both of them—Dean’s mother, Jane, and Bonnie’s ex-best friend, Maisie.
Yes, a few minutes ago, she’d told herself she could handle anything. It was a lie. At least, right now it was. She couldn’t handle them. She couldn’t even handle them seeing her.
Quickly, she pushed inside the business on her left. The second the door closed, she leaned her back against the wood and closed her eyes, trying to both breathe and still her racing heart.
There had been a time when Dean’s mother had liked her. That was before she’d left Dean at that party. Then she’d openly blamed Bonnie for her son’s death, telling anyone and everyone that it was her fault.
She scrunched her eyes, counting down the seconds, not sure how many she needed to remain where she was, when a deep, gravelly voice suddenly sounded.
“Are you okay?”
Bonnie’s eyes flew open. Then she looked up, first at a shirtless, muscled chest with thickly veined muscles. The chestmoved quickly, like the man had been working out, and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin.
Then her gaze continued to lift until they met the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes she’d seen before. Because she’d met this man. He’d saved her outside The Tea House when Dean’s friends had harassed her.
And just like then, there was a whole new reason for her heart to race.
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.Hisgym. 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 wasfamily, 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 eventhinkabout 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 wereclosed. 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?
