My knees gave out from under me, and I collapsed onto the filthy ground. A long rip had been opened along the front of my black dress. I was exposed, terrified, and lost once again. Fear and shock overwhelmed me, pinned me where I lay. Sobs tore through my body and echoed against the brick walls of the alley. It was all I could do to pull my cell phone from where I’d hidden it inside my bra. I pulled up Anderson’s number and waited for the line to click.
“Kaela?” his voice said over the phone, “Where are you?” I tried to will myself to speak, but I couldn’t stop weeping long enough to get out a word. Anderson’s panicked voice called out to me through the line, but I was overcome, inconsolable. I let the hot tears stream down my face, the same question running endlessly through my mind:
What have I done?
Chapter Eight
I hadn’t even managed to pick myself up off the ground by the time Anderson found me in the alley. I’d moved beyond terror into a state of shock and couldn’t even speak when he asked me what had happened. The ride home was a blur of lights and sounds, a hazy and numb trek that I couldn’t recall the next morning. Anderson must have carried me back up to the apartment and put me to bed, just as he had the first night we’d met. How had I stumbled into the kind of life that left me beat and battered twice in two weeks? Why had I left behind my simple, safe, unremarkable life in Ohio just so that I could be threatened and put in a near constant state of danger?
My doubts were growing, especially given the fact that since I’d arrived on the scene, Anderson’s fighting prowess had been slipping. From what Robert told me, any sort of slip up was unprecedented for Anderson. It wasn’t until I showed up that he’d begun to lose his touch.
Fighting was Anderson’s entire life, he’d told me so himself. When he was kid back in Brooklyn, he had established his place in the world with his physical skill. He earned respect from his peers, protected his little brother Toby, and gained confidence through fighting. When his parents were killed, fighting gave him an outlet, a way to express in anger in a concentrated and non-destructive way. And when poor Toby had been snatched away in the underground fighting world, the only way that Anderson could cope was to conquer that same world.
Now, Anderson’s entire future in the fighting world was at stake. He very nearly lost the last match, and injured his shoulder in the process. The only thing that had changed about Anderson’s life was the fact that I was in it now. I was a jinx, a distraction, and I would no longer be tolerated. I’d been scared enough when Robert had disapproved of me, but now some mysterious attacker was after me as well. Whoever had assaulted me in that darkened hallway could have killed me. I’d been given fair warning, but something told me that next time, I wouldn’t be given an easy way out.
I couldn’t bear to think about our impossible situation as Anderson carried me home. My mind was blank, a vast plane of endless confusion. For the rest of the night, I lay in bed and refused to think or to speak. Anderson tended to me as best he could. He brought me a meal that went untouched by the foot of the bed, and he dressed the shallow cut on my throat and treated me with kindness and respect, as always. But I could see the anger and the despair behind his caring eyes.
He wanted to know who attacked me. He wanted to get even. I could tell that he was furious that he wasn’t able to protect me. All of his life, his only purpose was to protect the people closest to him. But despite his best efforts, his mother, father, and brother, had all been taken away from him. He feared that I would be taken next, that much I could see. I was moved beyond belief that he counted me among those people he wanted to protect, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept that place in his life.
How could I ask Anderson to keep me safe, to validate and protect my life, when all I’d done for him was ruin the best thing he had going for him? How could I expect him to give up everything in order to protect me? I would never be able to live with myself if I knew that I’d cost Anderson his fighting career. Even if he gave it up willingly, I feared that he’d begin to resent me. Maybe not overtly, maybe not at first, but deep down inside, some part of him might hate me for it. I couldn’t stand the thought.
As I lay in bed, silent and removed, my mind roamed through my options. I could stay with Anderson, let him quit or be kicked out of the fighting league, and wait to see where we stood. Of course, if I chose that route, I might not live long enough to find out what our future held. My attacker had promised to finish me if I didn’t stay away from Anderson. I was probably already pushing it by letting him take care of me. For all I knew, my attacker could reappear and finish me off any day now.
The only other course of action was to leave. I could slip away from Anderson’s home while he was out training, return to my shabby little apartment in Alphabet City, pack up and go home to my family in Ohio. I could admit defeat, face the fact that New York City was too much for me to handle, and go crawling back to my parents. I could swallow my pride and admit that I wasn’t special enough to lead an exciting life. I could say goodbye to Anderson and never, ever look back again.
Was it better to stay, risking both our lives, or leave, knowing that I’d never love anyone the way that I loved Anderson Cole? When I was honest with myself, it was love that I felt for him. Not just lust, though the things he did to my body were unimaginably wonderful. It wasn’t just the glamour or the sex appeal that kept me in Anderson’s world, it was the fact that I cared about him deeply, in a way that transcended mere physical attraction. I loved him for everything that he was, I loved the damaged past that lived within him as much as the strapping fighter that stood before me. And because I cared about him so much, I came to the heart wrenching and unspeakable conclusion that I had to let him go. If I stayed, I’d be killed, and Anderson might never recover. If I left, he’d be furious, but he had a chance at being happy again. It was the only choice.
I continued to hold my tongue, even as my strength returned. Anderson was so relieved to see me recovering that the anger and fear receded from his eyes. He asked me over and over again what had happened, who’d attacked me, and I told him the truth—I had no idea.
The next morning I nibbled on the food Anderson brought me, managed to take a long, hot bath, and began to plot my departure. Anderson walked in to the bathroom and sat down on the side of the tub. He was shirtless, his muscles tensed with worry. He brought his hand to my hair and let it travel down the length of me, soothing my coiled nerves.
“Good morning,” he said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Did you sleep OK?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, savoring the feel of his hands on me, trying to memorize the exact weight and pressure of his caress.
“Did anything come back to you in the night?” he asked. I’d been having nightmares about the attack, recounting the episode again and again while I slept.
“No,” I lied once more.
“Can you remember anything they said?” Anderson pressed, “Anything at all?”
“I told you,” I said, sitting up beside him, “They didn’t say anything. They just grabbed me, held the knife to my throat, and tossed me out the back door. It was probably just a random act.”
Anderson’s gaze bored into me—I refused to meet his insistent look. If I let him look into my eyes for too long, he’d be able to tell that I was lying through my teeth. I hadn’t told him all that my attacker had said. I couldn’t bear to have him feeling guilty about the episode. Yes, I’d been attacked because of my relationship with Anderson. But he didn’t need to know that for sure. He had more important things to worry about.
“Are you ready for the next fight?” I asked, dying to change the subject.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Anderson said, bringing himself up to his feet.
“This is the big one, right?” I asked, trying to stay chipper.
“This is the big one,” Anderson confirmed. “Marco and I are the only undefeated fighters in the league. Our match will decide this year’s champion.”
>
“Were you the champion last year?” I asked.
“I’ve always been the champion,” Anderson said.
“So for the other guys,” I said, “The guys who lose. Does everything just reset for the following year?”
A cold look passed over Anderson’s face. “No,” he said quietly, “Nothing’s reset. Nothing’s forgotten. Once you lose a match, you’re done. A new batch of fighters steps up the next year. Placing second isn’t an option. Second place is just the highest ranked loser. That’s the way it’s always been. I either win the next match or I’m finished in fighting, forever.”
“There must be other leagues,” I said, trying to be helpful.
“They’re all interconnected,” Anderson told me, “You lose a fight in New York, you can be sure that every major fighting ring will know about it and you have to start at the bottom again. It's better just to retire at that point.”
“Oh,” I said, averting my gaze. Everything Anderson was telling me only reinforced my resolve to get out of his life. This was the most important match of his life coming up, and I couldn’t take the chance of being his bad luck charm once again. Even if he didn’t believe that it had been my fault, the guilt would eat away at me for the rest of my life. And based on what my attacker had told me, the rest of my life probably wouldn’t last that long, should Anderson get unseated as the champion of the league.
I watched silently as Anderson dressed for the gym. My exhausted, closed-off body crackled to life as he tugged down his boxers and stood naked across the room from me. His broad back and shoulders, slender waist, and rock solid limbs were perfectly balanced. His every muscle bulged and flexed with the tiniest movement. I wanted so badly to dig my fingers into those hard biceps, run them along his well-shaped thighs and firm ass. I wanted to feel his lips on mine, opening my mouth to his. I felt myself growing warm and wet between the legs as he threw on his workout clothes. When he turned to me, I tried to tamp down my desire. The last thing I needed to do was remind of myself of what I’d be missing once I left.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Anderson said, kissing my forehead. “Do you need anything from the outside world? Anything at all?”
“I’m fine,” I said, smiling as convincingly as I could.
“Just take it easy while I’m gone,” he said, “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Goodbye,” I said, knowing that it might very well be for the last time. Anderson smiled and turned away from me, and I felt my heart straining at the seams as his footsteps faded away and the front door slammed. I let the hot tears roll down my cheeks as I pulled myself out of tub and quickly began to gather my things. I refused to take the items Anderson bought for me since I'd started staying over. I didn’t want to have any reminders of him once I was gone. I dressed quickly, grabbed my phone, and headed for the door.
I couldn’t spare the apartment a parting glance as the elevator doors slammed shut. How could I look upon that sacred space where Anderson and I had come together time and time again in blissful lovemaking? No surface was safe from memories, that was for certain. We’d left no corner of that apartment unexplored in our few fleeting weeks as lovers. I wondered if any man would be able to compare to Anderson in that way? It seemed very unlikely. For the rest of my life, I’d have to live with the second best men I could find. The highest ranked losers, as it were.
Anderson’s doorman smiled and waved at me as I tore across the lobby. I ignored the man and burst out into the city. The sunlight stung my eyes, the noise of the traffic and pedestrians threatened to overwhelm me. I decided not to return to my little apartment in Alphabet City. Anderson might go looking for me there when he found me gone from his apartment. I needed to get as far away as possible. I knew that if Anderson came looking for me, asking me to come back with him, it might be impossible to resist.
I turned my steps toward Penn Station. There was enough money in my wallet for a one-way ticket home, I knew. My parents would surely be startled by my return. I tried to find comfort in the idea of being home with them, safe and sound. But wouldn’t I seem like a stranger to them, having been through all that I had? Would they even recognize me as their daughter? It would have to remain to be seen. They were all I had in the world, after all. I’d have to make due, or else risk starting over entirely alone.
As I descended the steps into Penn Station it felt like traveling lower and lower into hell. I pushed past eager tourists and hyperactive children toward the ticket kiosk. The harried woman behind the counter handed me a train ticket and waved me away. I found a seat on a cold, hard bench and waited. Swarms of people surged around me, moving at breakneck speed through the underground terminal. I’d never felt as lonely in my life as I did in that moment. Who knew that loneliness can strike the hardest when you’re absolutely surrounded by people? If New York had taught me anything, it was that.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt my cell phone begin to vibrate against my thigh. I slipped the gadget from my pocket and felt the air rush from my lungs. Anderson’s name was glowing loud and clear on the screen. And though it probably would have been better to simply let the call go unanswered, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want him worrying about me, after all. It was time to come clean, to tell him everything that had happened the night of the fight. He had to understand why I needed to leave.
“Hi,” I said faintly in the phone.
“Where the hell are you?” Anderson demanded angrily.
“I can’t tell you that,” I said, holding my ground.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, “You can’t just wander off without telling me! Not in your condition. I left my wallet at home. When I came back to get it, you were just gone! Do you have any idea how scared I was? Why would you do that to me? What was so urgent that you decided to just get up and leave without telling me first? For god’s sake—”
“I’m going away,” I interrupted him.
“You’re...what?” he said.
“I’m leaving New York. For good,” I said, my throat tightening as I struggled to speak. “I don’t want you to come looking for me, either. This is it.”
“Kaela,” Anderson said, panic tugging at the edges of his voice, “What are you saying? Why would you leave? I thought we...I thought you...I don’t understand.”
“It’s for the best,” I said firmly, “I’m doing this for both of us. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense, but—”
“You’re damned right it doesn’t make any sense,” Anderson said, “How could living without each other be what’s best?”
“I’ve been keeping something from you,” I said urgently.
“What is it?” Anderson asked.
“Last night when I was attacked,” I said, “The guy did tell me something. He said that I wasn’t allowed back. He said that he’d kill me if he ever saw me at a fight again. Anderson, someone doesn’t want me to be with you. Near you, even. If I’d stayed with you, they were going to come for me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, baffled, “I could have done something. I can protect you, Kaela.”
“But you shouldn’t have to,” I said, “Fighting is who you are. And I was messing it all up for you. You’d never been taken down before I showed up—”
“Come on,” Anderson said, “That’s nonsense.”
“Is it?” I asked, “When was the last time you had a fight that was nearly as close as the last couple? The ones I watched?”
A long moment of silence passed on the line. “I could give it up,” Anderson said finally.
“No,” I said, “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“That’s for me to decide,” Anderson said.
“You love fighting,” I reminded him.
“I love you more,” he said. My blood ran hot through my veins, bringing a blush to my cheeks. He loved me. He finally said it.
“I love you too,” I told him, “And that’s why I have to leave.”
�
�Kaela—” he said, but that’s all I heard before I hung up the call. My shoulders began to shake as sobs threatened to tear from my throat. I had to stick by my convictions. I had to get out before it was too late. Anderson might be furious in the moment, but he would forgive me someday, when he realized I’d been right all along.
Chapter Nine
“That was a wise decision,” a cold, smooth voice said behind me. I whipped myself around and felt my jaw drop a foot. Robert Hunt was standing behind me in the train station, his manicured hands tucked casually into the pockets of his slacks. I looked around for his flunky body guards, and the man let out a trilling chuckle. “I’m alone this time,” he said. “Some errands are better taken care of without any witnesses.”
A deep, acidic feeling of dread began to well up inside me as Robert sat down beside me on the bench. He looked calmer than I’d ever seen him before, serene. His placid expression only amped up my own fear.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him bluntly.
“I came to see you off,” Robert said, “It would have been awfully rude of me to send you away without my best wishes, after all.”
“How did you know I was leaving?” I asked. “I didn’t even tell—”
“I’ve been having you followed, naturally,” Robert said, as easily as if he were describing the weather.
“Followed?” I echoed, “But...why?”
“I wanted to ensure that you were making the right choice,” Robert said, staring into the bustling crowd, “And you have. Good girl.”
“What choice would that be?” I pressed, throwing caution to the wind.
“Whether or not to heed my warning, of course,” Robert replied.
“Your warning...” I repeated.
“Well, my relayed warning, I suppose,” Robert clarified. “I can’t be expected to lurk in shadows myself, after all. My suit might get wrinkled.”
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