CHAPTER TWO
Kolan
My muscles burn; sweat dripping down my face as I exhaust myself with the heavy bag. I slaughter it as I would any opponent in the ring, needing to work out the rage and aggression that’s been fueling inside of me the last few months. If it’s not the relentless reporters wanting their fucking story, it’s Peter Ward, president of the EFC, trying to get me to come back.
Not happening.
I’ll never go back to the place that fulfilled my dream then yanked it right back, ruining my life and reputation in the process. I don’t care if Ward wasn’t a part of Bruce’s bullshit. I don’t trust anyone there anymore. Too many people went against me, believing the worst, and even tried to help incriminate me for a crime I didn’t commit. They wanted to get rid of me; they didn’t want the competition because they knew they’d never beat me. I was unstoppable and still would be if I cared to be back in the ring. I don’t. I made it to the top, held it, then left that way.
I always thought I would miss it but as of right now, I don’t. What I have going here at the gym with the guys and Anna at the Men of Honor Center is enough. I’m enjoying it, especially instructing the youth program for so many kids that remind me of myself. Kids who don’t have anything and are pissed off at the world because the world fucked them over.
No one understands that better than me.
“Damn, what did that bag ever do to you?” Sarge says, walking out from the locker room freshly showered, ready to go out. “Didn’t you get enough aggression out after going a round with Benson tonight?”
No, I didn’t. I’ve got too much inside of me to release, even more than usual since I haven’t been to Annihilation in months. A club that I now refuse to be a part of since those fuckers tried throwing me under the bus, too. Just the thought of that bitch Nikki has my blood pumping hotter.
But I miss it—miss getting lost in myself there, and wielding a control that no one could possibly understand unless they knew what it was like to live without it.
Control feeds the scars of my dark past and even darker soul.
Pausing my blows, I look at Sarge. He has changed a lot since I first met him a few months ago. He hasn’t worked here much longer than I have and is still adjusting to civilian life after living on the streets for so many years. He suffered from PTSD but thanks to Jaxson and the counseling he’s receiving from the Men of Honor Center, he’s getting back on his feet. I’ve gotten to know him well since he helps me with the youth.
“Headed out?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“Sure am. Got myself a hot date with my woman. She worked the evening shift so I’m fixin’ to pick her up at work, then she’s all mine.” He winks. “Just keep that to yourself though, that boy of hers is always magically appearing out of nowhere, interrupting our alone time. I swear the kid has a strange sense that’s in tune to my dick,” he adds, talking about Logan.
I don’t really blame Logan. It’s exactly how I feel about my sister and RoboCop, but if she’s going to marry someone it may as well be somebody that I know would kill whoever tried to hurt her.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“I know, because you don’t talk to anyone unless it’s that sister of yours.”
I grunt, even though that’s mostly true. However, I’ve gotten better about that since I started here. I don’t really have a choice since it’s part of the job description.
“You headed home soon? You’ve been here since…what’s it going on now?” He looks at his watch. “Thirteen hours?”
“In a bit,” I reply vaguely.
He shrugs. “All right, have a good night beating the shit out of things. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
I go grab my water bottle and towel as he walks out then make my way over to the speed bag. The door beeps again, signaling someone’s arrival. I assume it’s Sarge coming back for something, but when he doesn’t say anything, I look across the gym to see some girl with her back to me, wandering around like she’s either lost or looking for someone.
Shit, don’t tell me another gym whore is looking for one of the fighters.
“We’re closed,” I call out.
She spins around with a startled yelp and jumps back, almost falling on her ass. I instantly feel like shit for scaring her.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Something about her soft voice has me moving forward. As I get a closer look at her, I realize it’s unlikely she’s a gym whore. She’s not dressed like one and she’s too…pretty. Black yoga pants and a pink tank top hug her lean, slender body that looks like it’s been sculpted by a fucking artist. Her long, golden brown hair hangs over her shoulders, framing the best set of tits I’ve ever seen. By the time I drag my appreciative gaze back to her face, I find she’s as innocent as she sounds. I also see she’s doing some looking of her own, those light hazel eyes taking me in from head to toe. She lingers on the tattoo just above the waistband of my shorts. That or she’s staring at my dick, which is hard at the moment, but I’m assuming it’s the first one.
“Can I help you with something?”
Her eyes snap up to mine and she blushes a serious shade of red.
Yeah, definitely not a gym whore.
Her hand goes to the scarf at her neck, fiddling with it nervously.
Who the hell wears a scarf in this kind of heat? Even at night it’s damn near a hundred degrees out.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t know you were closed.”
“It’s fine. You looking for someone?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. I, um…the sheriff…I mean Cooper.” She pauses, her eyes closing as she lets out a shaky breath before looking at me again. “Cooper McKay told me about the women’s self-defense class you guys offer.”
“Yeah, we have one running this weekend.” I hand her a flyer from the front desk.
As she takes it, I briefly glimpse small white scars on her delicate hand. “Right, Cooper said that, but I’m wondering if you guys offer any private classes? Like after hours, when no one is here?”
I watch her for a moment, her eyes remaining on the paper instead of me. “No, we don’t offer anything like that.”
She nods, her shoulders slumping with disappointment. “I figured but thought I’d check. Thanks anyway,” she says, turning to leave.
“Hold up.” I stop her before I can think better of it. “We don’t usually offer private lessons but it doesn’t mean we can’t. If you want we can work something out.”
What the hell am I doing?
The moment her wide, hopeful eyes move to mine, I know exactly what I’m doing. “You’re the instructor?” she asks.
“Sometimes. There are a few of us here who take turns but all the other guys have families. So, if you’re looking for something late in the evenings then it will be me.”
She bites that plump lip of hers, wreaking havoc on my straining cock.
Jesus, I need to get laid.
“You don’t mind?” she asks softly.
“No. Come back tomorrow night at around nine. That’s when we’re closed. We can start then.”
“Okay. Thank you.” She dips her head and turns to leave.
“You got a name?”
She spins back around, an embarrassed smile curving her perfect mouth. “Guess that would help, huh?” she says, a shy smile playing at her lips as she sticks out her hand. “I’m Sss…Lia.”
Grasping her delicate hand, I feel the scars that I saw earlier. “Ssslia?” I ask.
“Just Lia.” She giggles, forcing a shift in my chest.
What the hell is that?
“Kolan.” I have a feeling she doesn’t know who I am. Which is a good thing. If she knew who I was, she probably wouldn’t have anything to do with me.
“Well, Kolan, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I nod. “I’ll be here.”
“Bye.” She gives me a small wave then walks out the door, leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened.