Page 54 of Winter's End

He shook his head in disbelief, but didn’t respond. I took the silence as my chance to put the final nail into the proverbial coffin.

“Have you ever had a family youwantedto be a part of? There’s one dangling right in front of you. This shitshow is going to be over someday soon. I wouldn’t want to be alone when the dust settles.”

I opened the passenger door and left his luxury vehicle for my little-old-man car, determined to leave him with something to think about.

That, and I seldom had the last word. Since I was Bold Drew today, I was going to have the last word.

Now, here’s hoping all my bullshit gambles paid off.

CHAPTER 15

CAMERON

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack, thwack, thwack.

I pounded my fists against the unforgiving surface of the focus mitts, letting the sweet music of contact ring in my ears.

To his credit, Logan held the mitts tight and secure; a man who not only knew how to use them, he knew how to stand his ground. It should have surprised me, but it didn’t. Billionaire Boys Club had his own current of anger roiling beneath the surface of his skin—a caged animal could recognize its equal.

Iwassurprised when he’d invited me back to his gym to spar with him, instead of my little violet. Curiosity got the better of me—that, and with Georgio reviving his fight nights and me being his primary punching bag, I could use the practice.

Logan had proven to be a worthy opponent. He couldn’t hit as hard, and his footwork was less agile, but he was light on his toes and seldom did what I expected. We’d been sparring for the better part of two hours, but I could go all night.

A better man than me might even admit he was having fun.

I held up my fists in a ‘break’ gesture and reached for my bottle of water on the mat. My bloodied bare knuckles left streaks of crimson against the leather pads; the biological artwork a sure sign of pain to come.

“When’d you start fighting?” I sat down on the rigid vinyl and grabbed my towel to mop the sweat from my chest; I’d long ago abandoned my shirt.

The smaller man paused for a beat; his brown eyes seemed to stare through me as he considered his answer.

“I started lessons at seventeen,” he finally said, reaching for his own bottle of water and taking a seat across from me. “Stanley had beaten the crap out of me for the last time, and I was making sure he wouldn’t get another chance.”

“He the one who scarred you?” I nodded to the hem of his t-shirt, stained with rings of sweat clinging to his body. I had glimpsed the raw, ragged patches of damaged skin when his shirt rode up, but despite the heat and the soaked material, he hadn’t taken it off.

Logan’s face morphed into a murderous glare. “Yeah. And one of these days, I’ll pay the bastard back by killing him.”

I dipped my head at his conviction. You could always tell when a man meant something with his whole heart—like the very fabric of his being depended on that one truth.

“I’ll help you.” I tossed him the fresh towel beside me to clean up. “Men who beat innocents deserve to die.”

His eyes widened, but he caught himself before giving anything else away. He shifted to standing from his seat on the floor; after a moment’s hesitation, he offered a hand to pull me up.

I took the offer for what it was—a gesture of peace.

I understood the man more than he knew. We both held our cards close, refusing to trust those around us with our lives. Every person in our circle had earned their place. Logan wore his arrogance like a shield; I wore my silence. We weren’t so different.

This round, I held the pads, letting him focus his ire into the center of my protected palms. He unleashed his rage with an acute accuracy, and I wondered if he’d ever consider getting into the ring professionally. I dismissed the thought as soon as it had come.

Picture-perfect Pretty Boy wouldn’t want anyone knowing he was anything but presentable.

We moved from practicing jabs to grapples—more MMA style fighting than boxing, but the release in aggression soothed my restless soul for the time being. I could feel his own demons dissolve as our bodies tired and our muscles knotted from use.

At the next water break, I glanced up at the wall clock on the other side of the room.

“I’m going to have to get going.” After another beat, I gave him a brief explanation—not that he was owed one. “We’re moving Darlene tonight.”

I had taken Kellan seriously when he said my biological mother wasn’t safe. She may have lived under an alias in a dumpy-ass apartment on the outskirts of Carlisle, but after having found her after months of searching, I wasn’t willing to take the risk of Georgio, or worse, Antonio, finding her because of her connection to me.

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