Page 60 of Vanishing Legacy

Alana placed a hand on his chest and blew out a breath. “Well, I moved in with my aunt and uncle in a bad area of Los Angeles. The neighborhood was tough, but my home life wasn’t a good situation either. My uncle would get drunk and beat my aunt up.”

Cash’s protectiveness surged within him. No child should have to witness violence. His parents had had a few good arguments that turned into shouting, but never anything physical. “Your parents weren’t around at all?”

“No, my mom struggled with addiction and finally gave me up to foster care. I never knew my dad.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “My aunt couldn’t—or wouldn’t—leave, and I didn’t want to be around to watch him hit her. I stayed out of the house as much as I could. Started running with the wrong crowd. I thought it was my only option. I got involved with a gang, thinking it would give me protection and security. A family.”

Cash listened. His heart cracked with every word. He held her tight, wanting to protect her from the world. “But you got out.”

“Well, first, I got into some trouble and ended up getting arrested. That’s when I realized I was pregnant with Rocco.” She sat up and shifted so she could see him. “Getting out of a gang was no walk in the park, but I had to do it, or I’d end up like my mom.

“This is where the money from Rocco’s father came in?”

“Partly. I was in court facing some pretty hefty charges when a man stepped up to the judge and asked if he could talk to me in private. The judge agreed and we went into a little room where he told me he owned an MMA gym and group home to help teens get on their feet. I was skeptical, but my attorney said I could either go to jail or be released into the program.” She sniffed a laugh. “I mean, the choice was easy at that point.”

“Not everyone would make that choice,” he said. “Sounds like God was looking out for you.”

“Yep. He wasn’t supposed to be in court that day. He had lunch plans with the bailiff and court ran over. There he was, waiting for his friend, and he felt prompted to help me.” She shook her head. “His program wasn’t a normal halfway house or group-home situation. He was a missionary who took in street kids and taught us how to fight. Not just physically but to fight for ourselves. For our futures. He showed us that we had value. That we were worth something.”

“Wow, having someone believe in you is life changing.”

“It was hard work. We had strict schedules and we trained. Hard. It was difficult, but I kept fighting. Kept pushing forward. He became like a father to me. A father I never knew I needed.” Her eyes drifted to the fire.

Cash held her in silence. Gave her space to process the memories and keep going if she wanted.

She turned back to him, and he brushed her bangs back to better see her eyes. “What I didn’t know when I went to live at the gym was the connections with law enforcement. SWAT, FBI, DEA—the whole alphabet soup. Lots of the guys trained at his gym and gave us advice. It was because of the gym that I set my sights on the police academy.”

“Wow, you’re an incredible woman, Alana,” he said. “I love that you still have this fire in you. It’s inspiring.”

Alana smiled. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Do you still keep in touch with your mentor?”

“Yep, we email and text. He keeps me updated on the students I support.”

“You support? What do you mean?”

“The gym operates on donations, and you can also sponsor a student. It’s amazing what a small amount of money can provide. I sponsor two or three girls a year, and through the process I get to know them. I can give them the encouragement they need to keep going forward. Here, look.” She pulled out her phone and thumbed to a photo of a young African American teen with a referee holding her gloved hand in the air. “That’s Tasha after she won her first tournament at age fourteen.”

Cash shook his head in amazement. “Just when I think you can’t be any more amazing.” He pointed at her phone. “Alana, that’s incredible! I want to be a part of something like that. I wonder if Atlas would be interested in starting something similar.”

His mind drifted to Dante, the boy who’d died on his table. He had seen too many young lives cut short by violence, by a lack of hope and opportunity. But Alana gave him hope, reminded him that there were people out there fighting for a better future, for a better world. He squeezed her shoulder, grateful she’d brought so much clarity to his life.

Alana turned toward Cash, their faces just inches apart. “That’s a great idea. After this is all over, let’s put them in touch.”

“Speaking of the gym…” His eyes dropped to her lips. He recalled their adrenaline-filled kiss at the gym. The taste of her. The warm comfort of finally giving in to what he wanted. But he wanted more than a chemical romance.

He wanted…her.

The air between them crackled with intensity. Was this the right moment to show her? To tell her that he’d fallen in love with her? The warrior bodyguard, the loving mother, the broken teenager. All of her.

Alana’s hands cupped his jaw and drew him in. She pressed her forehead to his. “Cash…” His name came out on a hot breath that mingled in the air between them. “I really want to kiss you, but as your bodyguard I shouldn’t do this.”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“You probably need to fire me.”

“I definitely need to fire you.”

“Or I could quit.”

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