Page 30 of Grind
“Go on, Sully. It’s okay.” He plunges into the crowd and I follow close behind him. What the hell am I going to do in a fight? I don’t know. But maybe something.
Sully’s already throwing back a door that I didn’t see until I was right on top of it, and moving into the space. A familiar voice – Connor’s voice – is raised in anger.
“You come into my club, onto Doyle property, selling drugs,” his voice is tight with fury.
As we round the corner, I see Connor standing over a man that’s been pushed into a chair in the middle of the room. Blood runs down his face, and his nose looks broken. A wave of nausea rolls over me as I take it in.
Connor stands above him, the dark jacket off and the sleeves on his shirt rolled up. He doesn’t look angry, just resigned, but his voice has that cold edge to it that brings me back to the first time we met. When he sent Sully after Brooks.
It seemed so different then. But under the naked light of the bulb in this back room, there’s a whole different feel.
“Answer me, or this is going to get a lot worse fast. Who sent you?” Connor barks. “The Carneys? You moving in on our turf? We don’t fucking do drugs here, asshole. Not here, not anywhere. You hear me?”
The man flinches, and Connor continues bearing down, “Or maybe the Stacys? Is that what this is, a goddamned setup?”
The man finally responds. “Fuck you, Doyle. Stacy is going to get you, take you down. Take every piece of shit thing your family’s got and leave you fighting over the scraps when your old man kicks it.”
Then I understand. That animosity. The Stacys have something against the Doyles, and they’re not above using that corruption to get their point across. I feel dizzy, as the thought that I’ve made whatever that old history is a thousand times worse.
Bile’s rising in my throat, a mixture of horror at the Stacys’ reach. The man’s awful words. The twist of rage, resolute power, and pain that flashes across Connor’s face.
“Answer me,” Connor’s fist is drawing back, his shoulder moving. I can’t bear it. Can’t bear to see him strike this guy, no matter how much it’s deserved.
“Connor,” my voice is loud, high-pitched, raw with terror.
His whole body freezes, his eyes going to mine. The mask comes into place, and he looks like the Connor I know. Trust. Could love.
Love?
Oh my god. Am I falling in love with Connor Doyle? It’s all too much. I have to get out of here. Need air. My hand’s moving toward my pocket, grabbing my inhaler and I’m moving frantically toward the door at the same time Connor’s saying, “Sully, get her the fuck out of here.”
And then, his voice more alarmed, “Ava. Ava, wait. Fuck. Sully, handle this.”
His feet pound behind me, and I remember the last time I was near this club. Pursued. Afraid. I push through the undulating bodies, hitting people, not even bothering to apologize. The cold air on my face when I push out into the street is like heaven, and I take a panicked puff of my inhaler.
“Ava,” Connor’s voice comes softly behind me.
I turn, and my first instinct is to throw myself into his arms. But then I see it. The bruising on his knuckles. The blood spattered across his shirt. I just can’t.
He takes a step toward me, and I jerk back.
“Fuck.”
There’s so much fury, frustration, fear in that voice.
Everything I’m feeling in my chest.
“Ava, it’s not what it looks like,” he tries again. But his features have already started to register defeat.
I don’t like violence. I’ve spent too much of the last year on the receiving end of it. That’s the thing. Connor’s better than this. At least, I thought he was.
“You were beating that man,” I say finally, my voice sounding exhausted.
He looks at me, runs a hand over his face. “He works for the Stacys. Trying to do a setup at the club. Look, Ava, you know what the Stacy hold is here in the city. Every cop in their pocket, more or less. Normal justice isn’t going to take care of this guy, and I’ve got to make a point so it doesn’t happen again.”
Justice isn’t always black and white. Business isn’t always black and white.
I know the Stacys’ subvert the law. Are untouchable, even when you are getting a fucking law degree.
