Page 15 of Lady Death

“And then didn’t answer any of my follow-up texts!” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “No more. I won’t risk you—”

“Not your choice to make, Darby,” she said softly. “And if you happen to blow me up, I absolve you of any guilt.”

She smiled, hoping he’d return it, but he didn’t. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and lowered his head.

“Don’t do that to me,” he muttered so low she barely heard him. “Don’t make light of you dying. I didn’t save you to have you kill yourself.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she threw her armsaround his stiff posture and hugged him. “None of us gets out of here alive. Doesn’t matter when. If I happen to die bringing justice to Davorin’s victims, then I’ve fulfilled the promise I made to myself. I don’t fear death, Darby. I’ve already seen it.”

He hugged her back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling up at him. “I know you care, and I love you for that. You taught me I could feel something other than hate.”

“Love you too,” he said gruffly. “For Abigail.”

She nodded. “For Jonathan.”

Chapter Eight

“Did you hear about the warehouse district burning down?”

The question caught Keres’s attention. Two men were swinging kettlebells, their muscles bulging with every motion, and she appreciated the eye candy. Today her job was at the front counter, greeting people as they walked in for either a class or for working on their physique. Darby ran a boot camp workout every Saturday and Sunday, so he was currently out on location with a group getting dirty in the mud. It was based on the principle that you couldn’t just endure, you had to prevail. Pushing yourself harder so the people that signed up had to make it a commitment for four weeks to train on combat water survival, physical conditioning, and martial arts. All of that culminated into a tamer version of the crucible, the Marines version of Hell, which consisted of a fifty-four-hour test of endurance that included sleep and food deprivation, miles and miles of marching, and was morally and mentally taxing.

None of that sounded remotely appealing.

“Yeah,” answered the friend. “Heard about it on the news. Do they know what happened?”

“Fire is all I heard. Not surprised. That area should’ve been torn down ages ago.”

Keres ignored them and quickly brought up her news feed on her phone. The two men were right, it was all over the news. Speculation ran high, although it seems the authorities were keeping certain information under wraps.

Later that evening, when she had closed shop for the night, she stayed working out on the punching bag. Dip, lean, punch, kick. It might have been repetitive, but that was what she needed. Something mind-numbing to not think about the weight of the world, until exhaustion won the battle over the lethalcombination of memories and anxiety. She had an appointment with her therapist in the morning, but this time around, she had more than her past to talk about.

Now, there was Ronin. The man who kept showing up everywhere, including her dreams.

Darby walked into the gym, looking freshly showered. The only source of light came from the muted glow from the women’s locker room. It provided just enough luminescence so she wouldn’t trip over everything as she danced around the hanging bag.

“Widen your stance a bit,” he instructed.

She did as he said, noticing it made her sturdier on the balls of her feet.

“Make sure to really tuck your head down. One, two, duck. Yep, just like that.”

Keres appreciated the instruction and grunted her thanks. After she’d come home from the hospital, Darby offered to train her, and she jumped at the lifeline. She needed something to keep her from sliding into a depression so deep the only way out was death. The more he worked with her, the more her pain turned into anger. Vengeance burned in her heart and that’s when she and Darby came up with the plan to rid the world of the men who had destroyed theirs.

“Word on the street is that Davorin’s on a rampage,” he said casually, as if he asked about the weather. “Seems like he’s pissed off because not only did he lose the warehouse, he lost all the product inside.”

“Just like we planned.”

“Yep. Heroin, cocaine, and oxy. Millions of dollars, all gone in an instant.” He snapped his fingers and she smiled. “We hurt him in only the way a man like him can be hurt.”

“Not all the ways,” she reminded him with a smile. “One, two, punch.”

He chuckled.

“All right, I’m off to bed,” he announced. “The course today kicked my ass. I must be getting old.”

She grinned but didn’t stop boxing. He waved good night at her and headed up to the apartment. She’d stay until the demons in her head were too tired to bother her.

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