ONE
ETHAN
I gavethe brass bar a hard push, heard the click that unlatched the door, and stepped sideward through the opening. I eased it shut behind me, shutting out the bright morning sun except for a prismatic beam that filtered through the fanlight window above me. A second stained-glass window was on the wall to my left, depicting a figure of baby Jesus swathed in white and wearing a crown. I recalled seeing the same image in the Catholic church of my youth and the belief that if I closed my eyes, held my hand over my heart, and asked the infant to keep me safe, he would. As I stepped across the foyer to the doors that opened into the nave, I scoffed. I’d lost my belief in Divine intervention along with my naiveté very early in life.
In fact, this was the first time I’d been in a church in over two decades. And yet, when I entered soundlessly in the manner I’d been taught and inhaled the lingering scent of incense—frankincense and myrrh—proper decorum prevailed. I dipped my third finger into the holy water as I made the sign of the cross on my forehead. Then I walked to the side aisle and afterbending on one knee, slid into a pew near the back. I wasn’t even sure what prompted me to enter the church other than curiosity—and the fact that I had some time to waste.
A woman at the other end of the pew glanced away from her rosary beads and greeted me with a nod and a smile. I returned her friendliness. A round face framed graying curls. Deep creases across her forehead and on either side of her mouth made her appear worn and older than the fifty years I guessed her to be. Regardless, I liked her eyes. Almost opaque in their grayness, which seemed to be filled with warmth. Seemingly not the eyes of a person who gripped her rosary for dear life as she waited her turn in the confessional.
As a child attending a private boys’ school run by the Jesuits, I’d been taught topreparemyself before confession by talking to God and mentally reviewing my sins. But that was then. I hadn’t prayed since I’d been in a church and I wasn’t about to start. Instead, I perused the religious artifacts of various saints hanging on the wall. Tilting my head backward, I scanned the height of the cavernous church above the paintings where the stations of the cross were suspended, portraying the events in the passion of Christ from his death sentence through to his burial.
On either side of the altar in the sanctuary were two life-sized statues on marble pillars. To the left was the Blessed Mother. If memory served me correctly from religion classes, when her heart was exposed, she was referred to as the Immaculate Heart of Mary. To the right was a statue of the namesake for the church, St. Michael the Archangel.
I frowned whenever I looked upon the archangel who was known as the champion of justice—a spiritual warrior for humanity in the battle of good versus evil.Right, I thought sarcastically. Clearly, Michael was very selective about who he deemed worthy of his help and who he left to their own devices.I’d struggled with a ton of trauma and shit over the last six and a half years. And I wrestled my inner conflicts by myself—alone.
The quiet in the church was actually a nice reprieve from daily life and the longer I sat in contemplative quiet, I breathed in the strong smells of the roses and scented wax candles on the altar. My shoulders relaxed and I felt a sense of momentary peace. That was, until I saw him…
An archangel that came to life. His face was aglow in the golden stream of sunlight filtering through the prisms of the windows, and his blond hair appeared soft, like flaxen threads. He was a priest, evidenced by his clerical collar. Nevertheless, I gawped. The man was achingly beautiful. He was an inch or two over my five-nine frame. And when did priests start wearing trousers that were snug in all the right places? Certainly not when I’d been a horny altar boy just beginning to discover my preference for boys.
The priest looked my way and then came down the aisle. When he was close enough, I stared into brown eyes the color of rich earth, fringed with thick lashes, a contrast to his light hair. He locked gazes with me for a long moment before continuing on his way. Not a word exchanged between us. And yet, I felt a shift in the atmosphere.
My mouth went dry. I’d never been affected by a man at first sight. Ever. Not with such an instantaneous, heart fluttering reaction. I wondered idly if lusting after a priest was a sin. A question which made me uncomfortable. I was in a church, for Christ’s sake. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder to make sure the priest was not in sight, I vacated the pew and hurried away. I pushed through the outer door and scampered down the front steps, not slowing until I reached my truck, which was parked around the corner in front of the rectory. That’s when I saw the church notice board with office hours and the name of the pastor—Father Jude Donlan, OFM.
I didn’t know what the OFM stood for, but neither was I about to hang around in case the priest came out. In any event, I had to get to the gym on time or Hawk would cancel the sparring session for my tardiness.
I’d been parking in the vicinity of the church for the last two months. Ever since I joined The Ring. I had to walk a few blocks but finding parking was so much easier in the quiet residential area away from the main drag with the hubbub of bars, shops, and eateries. Grabbing my gym bag from the truck bed, I sneaked a last glance at the rectory and the image of the handsome priest before walking toward my destination.
Owned by Hawk Dunn, The Ring was in a small building made of galvanized steel panels, which gave the appearance of a warehouse. The name was written across the top in bold block letters, and underneath was graffiti of bright red boxing gloves with black stitching that appeared to be hanging from laces on a hook from the “g” in Ring. It was tacky as fuck, just like the interior, and I valued the inherent,I don’t give a fuck what you think attitude.
I opened the door and walked in, stopping momentarily to let my eyes adjust to the LED lighting. Then I proceeded down the center aisle created by twin twenty-foot boxing rings on either side of the space. Inside the ring on the left, there were two men sparring wearing heavier gloves, which provided sufficient padding for protection, leather headgear that fit snug like a helmet, and a mouthguard. I mused that when I sparred, I also wore a groin protector, not about to let my junk take an unnecessary punch.
Moving deeper into the interior where the punching bags and weight training equipment were set up, I breathed in the familiar smells of sweat and leather with an overlay of antiseptic agents. At the very back was a small glass-enclosed office that was opposite the locker rooms. I spotted Hawk typing something onhis computer keyboard. When I saw that he’d finished, I rapped on the door.
Hawk immediately raised his head and smiled. Then he waved his hand in acome on ingesture. “Hey Ethan, close the door and take a seat.”
I dropped my gym bag to the floor and sat across from him. “I got your text that you wanted to talk to me before our session.”
“You must be wondering why. I apologize for not giving you a heads-up in my message but I felt better speaking to you in person.”
My nerves kicked in and I bounced my leg. “I haven’t done something wrong, have I? Unintentionally. I know I’m fairly new to the gym and?—”
“Whoa there…” Hawk said, holding his hands up. “No, not at all. You’ve been a fantastic addition to the gym. I enjoy sparring with you. You give me a run for my money inside the ring.”
I let out a breath I’d been holding and my leg stilled temporarily. “Then, what?”
Hawk leaned forward. “Ethan, when you first came in and told me that Detective Gladstone referred you, I was curious and called her. She didn’t give any details about the case she’d been investigating when you met but she said something that’s stayed with me. She told me that you were knowledgeable and had a keen eye for boxing moves. But when I asked her about a one-word assessment of you she sighed and in a low voice, she said, vulnerable.”
Hawk paused and the worn leather on his office chair groaned when he rested back. I assumed that he was allowing me time to process the detective’s appraisal. After a long beat, he said, “Before you say anything, I want to explain why I brought her comment into our conversation.” Hawk straightened and met my gaze head on. “I have no right getting into a member’spersonal business. Neither do I have any desire to.” His face drew tight. “Unless I suspect physical abuse.”
Physical abuse? I was dumbstruck trying to make sense of Hawk’s statement. “Wh-what? Hawk, I don’t understand. Why would you…” In that instant, my eyes flew open as wide as dinner plates as it dawned on me. “Fuck,” I said, more under my breath than out loud. “You saw my back.”
Hawk swiped his hand over his shaved head and in a compassionate tone, he said, “In my business, I need to keep extra vigilant as to the reasons why a member is sporting bruises. I’ve always thought it odd that you never sparred bare-chested. Knowing that you’ve competed, even in the amateur classes, you knew that shirts are not allowed. I kept it to myself, but your custom to do so made me wary. Last week, I thought I spotted a blood stain on your shirt. I was going to let it go. But then Wednesday evening I was coming out of the toilet next to the locker room and your back was to the open door.” He scrubbed his head again. “To be honest, I was in a rage and didn’t have the willpower to talk rationally. Which was why I waited, knowing that you’d be in today.”
I shook my head so furiously I thought it might spin off. “No…no… You’ve got the wrong idea.”
Hawk raised his brow, looking dubiously at Ethan. “Ethan, if you’re trying to protect someone, don’t. And if you won’t be truthful with me, then I’ll have to bring in the authorities.”
I jumped up, flailing my arms. I didn’t want to tell Hawk the truth. That meant exposing myself. Revealing a big part of my life that I preferred to keep a secret. In my panic, I forgot that two thirds of Hawk’s office was made up of half-height partition walls made of glass and I dropped to my knees. “Please Hawk, believe me. I promise to talk.”
