“Hey!” the man I didn’t know called. He had round cheeks and a wide smile that seemed friendly but wore bright green shorts, and guys who chose obnoxious colors usually had matching personalities. He seemed to be keeping to that theme. “Aren’t you the trainer? Grady said you were good. You coming, bro?”
My heart took off racing. “Yeah.”
All my effort at holding myself together was just enough to let me go over to the ring without saying anything to Trevor, but then I did something I normally avoided, lifting the top rope and climbing through to the ring. I felt good as I paced around the edge. There was some bounce under my feet; this was a fast ring. I huffed out a breath.
“What should we do, coach?” the man I didn’t know called. He spun and gave me a bright smile. He slammed his gloves together. Did he know Trevor? Was he his lover? Friend? An AS member I’d never met? I almost gagged at the thought.
“Let me see what you got.” I leaned against the ropes, trying not to glare at Trevor, but I just hadn’t expected to ever see him again. Had he been living here all this time, like Drew? Did Drew know him assome guy at the gym? Questions and old memories boiled in my brain until I felt like my head might explode.
He didn’t seem to recognize me.
Trevor punched hard and fast, getting off shot after shot, and his buddy let out a breath as he was socked square in the stomach. “Don’t let yourself get trapped in the corner,” I yelled, but Trevor had moves and the other guy had none. “Get your hands up!”
Trevor punched the guy in the face, hard.
“Hey, take it easy! You’re training!” I said, but I wasn’t in a position to go over and make him stop. My back was doing better, but I didn’t want to push my luck. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but Trevor seemed intent on making a point with this “friend” of his, and he drove him deep in the corner and kept him there, landing too many punches. I wasn’t surprised to see him being an asshole.
I stepped closer and cupped my hands around my mouth. “You’re fucking done. You’re not murdering him in this ring. Stop!”
Everyone working out turned to stare at us, and Trevor backed off, a light sheen of sweat on his body. His friend had blood dripping down his nose and frantically shook his head as he tossed his gloves and raised his bare hands at Trevor. I half expected the asshole to fire off another punch.
I went over and scooped the gloves up. They were lightweight, eight ounces. I slipped them on. They fit me decently. I wasn’t wrapped up, though, so they were a little loose on my wrists. Trevor turned toward me with a smug smile, and from one second to the next, recognition entered his eyes. His mouth fell open. I saw red and gave him a hard one-two to the face, putting as much power behind it as I could. Trevor toppled like he’d been hit over the back of the head with a baseball bat—and I knew what the fuck that felt like. My back twinged, but I was flying high on adrenaline. I overbalanced and went down on one knee, and he collapsed to the ring on his side.
“Holy shit,” the man in the loud green shorts whispered, and he scrambled out of the ring. There were some jeers from around the room, and the power weights hit the floor as if someone had tossed them. Claps and cheers went up.
I hated how it felt to hurt Trevor, hated that I’d even touched him with gloves between my hands and his face. One thing I was happy about, though, was my total lack of fear. I didn’t feel the way I once had anymore. Tatum Black was gone. This piece of shit wasn’t going to hurt me. I’d fucking kill him first, and anyone else who tried. I had shit to live for. Trevor groaned and curled up to sit. One at a time, I tossed the gloves at him and bounced them off his gobsmacked face.
“Don’t come back here. The cops are looking for you, along with everyone else Tatum Black ever knew. I’ll tell them where you are. You ruined my fucking life.”
Trevor snorted. “I can’t believe it’s you.” He lifted his eyebrows as he eyed me up, and I wanted to punch him again, hard enough to bruise his fucking brain. “Why would the cops have my name? Tatum would never spill it. I was loyal.” To hear him talk that way, I knew I’d done the right thing, or at least the best thing for me.
“I did. I fucking told them.” Carefully I got to my feet, but I couldn’t straighten up too well. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to walk to the ropes. I grabbed the top one and let out a deep breath, ignoring the pain gathering in me.
“You? But you….”
“Leave.”
Trevor narrowed his eyes. “You’re fucking dead. You were never anything except Tatum’s cum sock. Why the fuck would the cops listen to you? Why would you even bring up my name? I wondered what was going on when I started seeing reports about the AS.” He got to his feet, and I clutched at the rope. “You never had the nerve to leave him back then. How did you grow the balls to do this?”
“Pressure makes diamonds,” I grumbled.
“I’m going to wait outside for you and shoot you,” he said with a cheerful grin. There was no yelling or fussing—he fucking meant it. Maybe he was responsible for the extra bodies that had been dug up.
“If you try that, you better make sure you fucking finish me, because if it gets down to it?” I loved that I felt more like my old self than I had in years, even with the pain. I forced myself to stand upright and crossed my arms. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who will kill you. You’re mad at me, but I fuckinghateyou. I would love to rip your heart out and feed it to you.” I gave him my best smile. Trash-talking in the ring was something I was used to—and this made me happy in a twisted, fucked-up sort of way.
He scrambled out of the ring, tossing down his gloves as he fled, and headed toward the front doors. The dipshit didn’t even go get his clothes. My hands shook as I climbed out of the ring. My back hurt, but I didn’t think I’d really set myself back much. It was a manageable twinge. I texted Drew to tell him not to bother coming by, and went out to check the parking lot. Trevor was a weasel and a wimp and he’d left. He wasn’t waiting around to do shit, and I was happy about it because I wasn’t sure what I would have actually done if I’d walked out to a gun in my face.
Green Shorts, the man who Trevor had met up with, stopped to shuffle near the desk while I leaned there texting Grady that he’d have to come in because I wasn’t feeling well. I was too worked up to focus on anything except getting home to Drew.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Um, do you know him?”
“Trevor?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, I know all about him.” I couldn’t keep the hate out of my tone, and the man took a long deep breath and held it. “Do you need help?”
