Hell on Wheels

by Karen Kelley

  And lying on the bed was Sleeping Beauty, but he couldn’t be her Prince Charming. He didn’t wear a white hat anymore. She was looking for a fantasy and he certainly wasn’t that.

  So he’d left what he thought was a sweet note on top of the extra pillow and quietly slipped out of her apartment. Apparently, his note had meant something more to her.

  “You are a beautiful woman, Marianne.”

  Her eyes brightened with hope.

  “But I’m not the man you’re looking for.” He took her hand. It was small and fragile. “I deal with the scum of the earth day in and day out. I see things that would shock someone as sensitive as you. I live fast and hard. You’re too good for me. Someday that special man will come into your life. Don’t settle for anything less.”

  “There’s not a chance…”

  “There can’t be. Believe me, someday you’ll thank me. Now go. Live your life, and never look back.” Man, that was thick, even for him. Marianne appeared to be thinking over what he’d said. He didn’t let out a breath until she nodded her head.

  “You’re right.” She squeezed his hand. “We’re from two different worlds. Mine is pure and untouched. Yours is sullied and tainted. You’ll have to go on without me.”

  Go on without her? Wasn’t that what he’d been trying to do since she’d slid uninvited into the chair next to him? If it would get her out of his life, he didn’t care what played out in her mind. Damn, she was starting to scare him.

  “I’ll try.” He turned his head away. “Please leave. I don’t want you to see me break down.” Acting wasn’t that hard. Maybe he should’ve tried out for the stage or something.

  “I’ll go, but please don’t ever forget me. I don’t think I could stand it if I knew you never thought about me.”

  “You’ll always hold a piece of my heart. Hurry now, leave before I make a fool of myself.”

  “Yes, my love.” She stood. A moment later, the door opened and closed.

  Josh breathed a sigh of relief. The man in the next booth stood, dropped some bills on the table, and glanced in Josh’s direction.

  “Son, I wouldn’t quit your day job if I were you. Your acting stinks. If that girl hadn’t been such a twit, you’d still be stuck with her.” He ambled toward the door and left.

  Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t make such a great actor. He followed suit, dropping money on the table at the same time he slipped his wallet into his jeans pocket.

  How the hell could a day start out so well, then fizzle so damn fast? He had a feeling Cody was going to be pissed at him for a long time.

  It was for the best. His head wasn’t big enough for that white hat everyone wanted him to wear. Helping people had only given him a lifetime of miserable memories.

  He ran a hand through his hair after he climbed into the Mustang. For a moment, he just sat there, looking at nothing—seeing too much as the memories washed over him full force. For a moment, he let them bathe him in the past. Viv’s face swollen and bruised flashed across his mind. Before the past could suck him in further, he drew in a deep breath and shook it off.

  No more white hats. He wasn’t a hero. Far from it.

  Cody knew she shouldn’t be upset. Why the hell should she care who was plastered against Josh? How many times had she told herself that he was a player? Hah! Too many to count. So why should she be surprised there was a slutty-looking, blond-haired bitch snuggled up to him and looking at him with such adoration it made her want to puke?

  She parked in front of the gym and strode inside. Moji wasn’t at the front desk. Good, she didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

  After signing in, she went to the changing area and opened her locker. Thank goodness most of the women were working out on the treadmills and bikes. She didn’t think she could stomach their chatter this afternoon.

  In less than five minutes, she was out on the floor with the punching bag in her sights. She made a beeline straight for it. Most of the patrons who used the weight area came at night so she had it all to herself. This was exactly what she needed to get rid of her anger.

  But she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t want cramping muscles in the middle of the night jolting her awake. So she began to stretch, warming them up.

  As she loosened up, she kept her attention focused on the punching bag. It became her nemesis. By the time she finished her warm-up routine, the bag was looking a lot like Josh.

  Her first kick was low, exactly where she’d aimed. An uppercut followed, then a series of jabs. She began to sweat. Her muscles began to tremble.

  Why had she let herself start to like him? Why had she enjoyed the touch of his lips so much? She’d known this would happen. What bothered her most was the fact he knew she was ticked off. Damn, damn, damn. She’d seen that knowing look in his eyes. He better not think it was because another woman had rubbed up against him. It didn’t bother her one bit.

  Yeah, right.

  An ache so big that it made her catch her breath welled inside her. She kicked the bag with all she had. Her foot hurt. It didn’t matter. She bounced on the balls of her feet, punching and kicking.

  She wouldn’t let it happen again. She wouldn’t care for another human being—ever. She wouldn’t.

  Then why the hell did she want to curl up in a tight little ball and cry until there were no more tears left? Hell, she never cried. Not anymore.

  Damn Josh Pierce to hell and back.

  Her legs were like rubber bands. She grabbed her towel and plopped down on the floor, leaning against the wall and crossing her legs in front of her. God, she was spent. There was nothing left inside her.

  She wiped her face. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax the body, relax the mind. Even though her body trembled from exhaustion, she forced herself to unwind.

  Josh is nothing to you. He does not have the power to inflict pain unless you let him.

  Languidness flowed over her. Peace filled her mind and body.

  “Feel better now?” Moji asked.

  Startled, she jumped, opening her eyes, then relaxed. “Thanks for aging me ten years. And yes, I did feel somewhat better.”

  Damn it, he could’ve made some kind of noise. Moji probably enjoyed scaring the hell out of her. He loved the dramatic.

  Being five foot seven might’ve made some men want to become invisible to avoid the inevitable jokes. Not Moji. If anything, it made him more flamboyant.

  Moji was one of a kind. He lived his life the way he wanted and to hell with what other people thought. He’d opened a gym, not in the least intimidated by the big, brawny men who worked out.

  Being gay and middle-aged, it was probably a smorgasbord of sinewy, sweaty flesh to him. Those same men could ridicule him behind his back, but Moji was an expert in martial arts and they damn sure didn’t ridicule him to his face.

  And he’d taught her a lot. Where Rodney had shown her how to fight dirty, Moji had refined her technique. Her backstreet style of fighting had a little more finesse now. If she were to call anyone friend, it would probably be Moji.

  He sat on the floor beside her. “I was returning from the back, but when I heard all the grunting and groaning coming from the weight area, I thought someone was having wild sex and I certainly didn’t want to miss that. Then I saw it was just you. I was hoping for two male studs going after it.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You didn’t. My day has been utterly boring. Besides, I wouldn’t want to get shut down if someone was having wild sex in my gym.”

  He fluttered his hand close to his face.

  “I was hoping a shipment of silk material I ordered would arrive to break the monotony of my day, but it hasn’t. I’m going to have an absolutely divine kimono made. Blue, to match my eyes.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her. “You going to wear it around here?”

  Tapping a finger on his cheek, he wore a thoughtful expression. “Do you think it would help? I mean, there has to be one young stud I can tempt.” He tugged at his chee
ks and neck. “Maybe I’m too old?”

  She studied him. How could anyone tell? He wore his hair short, the color changing from week to week. Today it was a deep purple with blond tips. To keep up the image that his father was Japanese, he expertly lined his eyes to give them a slight tilt.

  Cody knew better.

  She’d shown up at the gym late one night, wanting to get in a good workout, and found Moji crying in a back room. Normally, she would’ve quietly left. Why should she feel obligated to hang around? Guilt had quickly followed on the heels of that thought. She did owe him…and she was obligated.

  At least enough to make sure he’d be okay when she left. Because of the hours she kept, he’d given her a key so she could use the gym anytime, even after hours. And he’d given her pointers when it came to fighting. For that, she’d make sure he wasn’t so upset he’d do something stupid.

  Awkwardly, she’d patted him on the back. More than a little tipsy, he began to tell her what had happened. Chet, his partner, had left. Just packed up and left. A short note told him it had been fun, but it was over.

  She knew the feeling of being left behind. So she’d listened and he’d talked. Apparently, Moji had been holding a lot back for too many years to count, but that night the dam burst.

  She substituted his whiskey for tea and he never realized the difference while he spoke about his family—very upper crust, old money. His father dealt in stocks, adding to the family fortune. His mother not only followed trends, she set them.

  He told her all about the older brother and sister who were destined to follow their parents’ example.

  Then he came along. An unwanted pregnancy. Three children was almost an embarrassment. Heaven forbid anyone would actually think they might enjoy sex. He really tried to conform, but there wasn’t enough room for him to squeeze into their cramped little box. Especially when they realized he was gay.

  At first, he tried to hide it, but he couldn’t hide who he was—not forever.

  His father offered him a substantial amount of money to disappear. A few weeks later, it was reported in the papers that their son was killed in a remote country. The stateside funeral was a closed casket. The day they buried him, a new person was born—Moji.

  “You nearly killed my punching bag. Who made you so mad?” he asked.

  She drew her thoughts back to the present. Heat crept up her face when she thought of Josh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Ah, a man. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  “No, it wasn’t bound to happen sooner or later,” she bristled. “I’m not in love.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Oh, even better. You’re in lust.” He rubbed his hands together. “Who’s the lucky man? That big, brawny, tanned Richard? Or maybe Alberto? A little smaller, but I bet not where it counts.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Men from the gym? Not likely. They were already in love with themselves, leaving no room for anyone else. And as to their size, that was the least of her worries. “You can be really crude, did you know that?”

  “Yes, isn’t it a delicious vice? I mean, if I’m going to have one it should be something I can enjoy, and I do love being crude.”

  “You’re so full of it.” She chuckled. “You should know by now that you can’t shock me.”

  “I know.” The high pitch of his voice disappeared, replaced by a softer tone, and she got a glimpse of the boy he used to be. The alter image was gone in a heartbeat and Moji was back. “But now tell me about this man.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who he is. We’ll never be a couple. He’s a player.”

  He nodded. “And you caught him playing.” He leaned closer. “Give me all the juicy details. Moji wants to know more about his favorite bounty hunter, and the bitch who would dare mess with her man.”

  Oh, lord, why had she even said anything? Moji wouldn’t let the subject drop, either. He was like a Pekinese with a bone. Ornery, stubborn, but still kind of cute. And there was nothing malicious about him.

  He nudged her arm.

  “Okay, okay. I was returning his wallet. We were supposed to meet at the café, but he was with someone.” She clamped her lips together to keep from cursing Josh. She didn’t want Moji to make more out of it than was there. If she cursed Josh one more time, he just might.

  “And why, pray tell, were you in possession of his wallet?”

  “He left it at my place last night.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back.

  “The plot thickens. Tell, tell!” He clapped his hands. “It’s about time you had hot dirty sex. You’ve been really cranky lately.”

  “We had sex, big deal.”

  His eyes widened. “A hunk. I am presuming he’s sexy and super good-looking…” He waited for her to confirm.

  She finally caved. “He looks good.”

  “Just good?”

  Why had she come to the gym? Oh yeah, to get rid of her frustration. “Yes, he’s damn good-looking. Now are you satisfied?”

  “Not quite, but I’m sure I will be eventually.” He drew in a deep breath. “Now let me get this straight. A hunk spent the night with you last night. You were returning his wallet and found him with someone else.”

  She drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I have exclusive rights to him.” She didn’t care. Damn it, she didn’t. There was only one thing that remotely interested her about Josh and that was his car.

  “So, was the bitch pretty?”

  Pretty? She sighed. The girl hanging on Josh’s arm wouldn’t be easy to forget. “She looked like a porcelain doll. The kind of woman a man likes to protect.”

  Moji nodded. “A bitch.”

  The kind of woman she could never be. No one had ever accused her of being a simpering female. And she damn sure wasn’t about to change. Why the hell was she even sitting here feeling sorry for herself? Josh was nothing to her. It must be the stifling summer heat getting to her—clogging her brain or something.

  She came to her feet. “I need to get going.”

  He stood, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. What the hell was he up to now? With Moji, it was often hard to tell, and sometimes she didn’t want to know what he was thinking, but curiosity got the better of her.

  “What?” She stared right back at him. “I just worked out. I know I look like crap.”

  His brow puckered. “I was looking past the sweat. Although it does look kind of sexy on you. All that shiny skin exposed. Are you sure you wouldn’t want to try to convert me?”

  She laughed, finally relaxing a little. Moji was one of the few who could make her laugh outright. “No, I don’t want to convert you.”

  “You’re right. Why fuck up a perfectly good friendship.”

  “So, you going to tell me why you were looking at me like I had a big wart on my face?”

  “I want to do a makeover on you.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “A makeover. Like makeup and stuff? Yeah, right. So I can impress the scum I chase almost on a daily basis? I’m sure that would really impress them.”

  “No, darling, so you can impress the man you’re getting hung up on.”

  “I am not hung up on him. Jeez, what do I have to do to convince you?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever, but do me a favor, next time you know he’s going to be at the same place as you, call me up. Believe me, when I get through with you, he won’t know what hit him.”

  “When I get to the point where I feel the need to impress a man, I’ll stick my head in a toilet.”

  When Moji grinned knowingly, she turned on her heel and strode toward the changing room. Men were bad enough. Gay men were even worse. She didn’t want or need fixing. She wore makeup—when it suited her.

  She snorted. And she damn sure wasn’t about to try to impress anyone.

  But as she showered and changed, she couldn’t help feeling a smidgen of regret. Maybe she and Josh would’ve be
en good together—at least for a little while. But how long would it have lasted? Not long. Then he would walk out of her life and another relationship would be over.

  The blond could have him, as far as Cody was concerned.

  But then, Josh had never been hers in the first place.

  Yeah, Josh was certainly making her feel things. Like hurt, pain—and loneliness.

  Chapter 9

  Josh took his coffee to the table and sat down, idly glancing out the window at the traffic backed up in the street three stories down. People were in a hurry to get home from work.

  The pizza place across the street was doing a brisk business. People went in and came back out a few minutes later with cardboard boxes. They were tired. Standing in front of a stove apparently held little appeal after working all day. Hell, he knew the feeling.

  He picked up the spoon he’d used to stir his coffee and began tapping it on the table. The people on the street faded. He couldn’t say how long he sat there lost in thought.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He felt as if there was somewhere else he should be. Something else he needed to do. But what?

  He blew on his coffee and took a drink, knowing it would keep him up half the night but not really caring. Maybe he’d stake out Larry the Lizard’s apartment complex. He was only a petty thief with a small bail, but he’d skipped out.

  He scraped his fingers through his hair, then stared down into the dark coffee. He was so damn bored. A memory tugged at him, and his muscles relaxed.

  Cody had liked her coffee, too. He smiled, remembering how she’d added cream and sugar. He really had pictured her as taking it straight up black, nothing to weaken the strong taste. She’d surprised him, but then she did that a lot.

  Damn it, he was doing it again.

  Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? He set his cup down and rubbed his hand across his eyes. A solid week had passed, but not a day went by that he hadn’t thought about her, that something didn’t remind him of her.