“Royce!”

Sweat dripped into his right eye. It stung like a motherfucker, but Royce didn’t stop slamming his fists into the punching bag. He didn’t quit for the smear of blood on the gray vinyl either. One of his biceps was screaming, both calves ached, and his gut felt like someone had poured battery acid in it. But he kept up the workout.

It was the only thing that stopped his mind from tearing him to shreds.

Noise from the self-defense class surrounded him, with Sven’s voice coming through the loudest because he was teaching. The room smelled of sweat and rubber. Grunts from different workout stations matched his own as he slammed his fists into the heavy bag.

“Dammit, Royce, stop!”

Technically, Royce was on vacation, so he didn’t have to respond to the order. But he owed the man. A lot. His mother was home and back on her meds. The painting was back in the museum where it belonged. The hoopla over the long-missing piece of art had dominated the news cycles for a week. The drug deal gone bad had been all over the news, too, and he’d never heard a peep from local authorities. But someone knew what had really happened, because he’d received a gift in the mail from New York. A fucking thank-you basket for taking out a problem—with a promise of no retaliation from the family.

He hadn’t even recognized the name of the sender.

His guess was that Corbin’s foray into drugs hadn’t been as welcome as he’d expected, and his days had already been numbered.

When the basket arrived, he briefly entertained the thought of rushing straight over to Marc’s house. Fear of retaliation from his family had driven him away in hopes of keeping Marc safe, but it was more than just the damn Karras family keeping them apart.

“I’m not saying it again, Royce.” Rowe was closer now.

Royce grabbed the punching bag to halt its momentum and turned to face his boss. He lifted his soaked shirt to swipe the tail over his forehead, blinking rapidly to try and clear out the stinging eye.

“Shit, Royce,” Rowe grumbled.

He dropped the shirt, realizing Rowe had been looking at his body. He wasn’t trying to lose weight; he just didn’t care. He didn’t say anything, watching his redheaded boss stare back, a frown pulling his eyebrows together.

“Your beard looks like it could nest small creatures.”

“I’m on vacation. I’ll trim it when I’m back on duty.” Royce kept his voice calm, although inside, he was anything but. Fury and grief. The mix boiled inside him at all times, making his adrenaline spike so high, he could hardly contain it.

“Why are you trying to kill my equipment, Karras?”

Fuck, he hated his name now. He had to work not to turn and look at the other punching bag he’d demolished. “I’ll pay for a new one.”

Rowe got into his face. They were close to the same height, and Royce forgot sometimes because Rowe was a lot bulkier than Royce. It made him seem bigger than he actually was. Green eyes, full of anger and worry, stared him down. “I don’t give a shit about the equipment. I give a shit about you, and you look bad. On some new fad diet or something? You’ve dropped at least twenty pounds.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m pretty sure how I eat isn’t a part of my job description.”

He got an eye roll for that one. “You are so fucking angry.” Rowe grabbed his hand and started unwrapping it. “All the time. Angry. These are soaked through with blood and yet, you don’t stop. I came over here to take you to the mats. To let you work off some of this fury on me, but after seeing your hands, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Chicken?” Royce snarled.

Green eyes narrowed. “You are cruising for a bad time, Karras. We both know I could whip your ass. Especially now, because of the shape you’re in.”

“I’m stronger than I ever have been.” He flexed his arms. “All muscle.”

“Muscles need food, dumbass. And yours are starving on your fucking quinoa.”

That brought a snort out of Royce. “I hate that shit.”

“Brown rice and vegetables. Whatever. You need protein and a hell of a lot more food than you’ve been taking in. I’ve watched you come in here every day this week and work out for hours. It’s not healthy.” He unwrapped the other hand, wincing. “Come on, we gotta fix this up. If you insist on keeping with this crazy schedule of a workout, change it up so you’re not using your fists until they heal.”

Royce yanked his hand away and stepped back. “Is that an order?” He took another step and nearly tripped when he hit one of the large mats that covered half the floors. He didn’t need this right now. He had another week of his three-week vacation and he should have kept out of sight. But he couldn’t face the days alone in his place. Couldn’t face one more day of pacing and insomnia. He didn’t even have cable television to occupy his attention.

Since walking out of Marc’s hospital room, Sven, Quinn, Dom, and Garrett had all taken turns lighting up his phone when they weren’t on jobs, checking on him, but he avoided their calls. He didn’t want to hear their questions about why he’d left Marc, didn’t want to hear their reasons as to why he should go back to Marc and beg for another chance. It was all he wanted to do, but he couldn’t. Marc was light and beauty. He made the world a better place by just being a part of it. Royce didn’t deserve that. He brought death and pain. He’d tried to leave that all behind when he joined Ward Security, but it still found him. There was no escaping it. And if he was with Marc, then he’d keep bringing that pain and suffering into Marc’s life.

He should have stopped coming into the office to work out just so he could avoid the worried looks of his friends, but it was the only place where he felt at home, the only place where he could push back the dark thoughts for just a few hours.

Rowe lowered his voice as he followed. “I thought I was a stubborn man. I thought my friend, Lucas, was too. You, man, you take the fucking cake, and then some. How long are you going to wait to go see him?”

He sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to talk about this.” He turned to leave and growled when Rowe grabbed his arm. He didn’t know what made him do it. It wasn’t something he ever would have done before—to anyone he cared about. He’d left his pummeling days long, long behind. But it felt like everything inside him just snapped. He yelled, swung around, and smashed his fist into Rowe’s cheek.

Rowe staggered back, surprise sending his eyes wide as he lifted a hand to his face.

“Oh, you did not!” Noah yelled behind him. Footsteps sounded on the mat.

Royce knew his boss’s boyfriend was coming to put him on his back, and he welcomed it. Welcomed the idea of a fight. The guy was big, and he fought with crazy skill. Surely he’d knock Royce out for a while.

“No.” Rowe held up his hand, eyes locked behind Royce. “It’s okay. He didn’t mean it. Did you, Royce?”

He couldn’t breathe, so he couldn’t answer. All he could do was stare at the red spreading over Rowe’s face as his chest grew tighter and tighter. A smear of darker crimson colored the tip of his nose. Royce lifted his hand, gaze finally moving down to focus on the back of it, at the fresh blood.

“Come on,” Rowe said, his voice low. “Let’s go to my office.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch, but to Royce, it was just a faceless mass of people who’d seen him screw up. Royce nodded and followed him up the stairs. Quinn stood near the top, eyes wide with worry. Royce wanted to offer him some kind of reassurance but didn’t have it in him.

Rowe closed the door behind them once they were in his office. “Sit down. I’ve got a first aid kit in the bathroom. I’ll fix up your hands.” He kept talking as he walked. “This isn’t like you, Karras.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, voice raspy. Royce leaned back, and the black leather couch squeaked as he slumped against it.

“It’s still your name. A good name. Just because some people who share it aren’t good doesn’t mean the name is sullied.” Rowe came back and sat down next to Royce. He was gentle as he cleaned the split skin on Royce’s knuckles. “Is part of this from killing them?”

He shook his head, surprised when mind swirled into a dizzy mess.

“Hold on.” Rowe got up and walked to his desk. When he came back, he handed Royce a protein bar. “They aren’t the good ones my friend makes, but they’ll do. Eat it with your left. Your right is a mess.” He chuckled. “My face is hard, eh?”

He opened the wrapper and took a bite. After three, some of the dizziness left. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I hit you.”

“I do.” Rowe looked up from where he was bent over Royce’s hand. “You’re exhausted, and your heart is broken because you’re fighting something for a reason I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to yourself? I know I gripe about not running a dating service here, but there was something between you two. Something big.”

He didn’t even pretend to not know who Rowe was talking about. “Did you know Marc has a heart condition?”

Rowe sat up. “So? And that means what? He’s not worth it?”

His lip curled. “He’s worth everything.”

He stared for a long moment, and Royce felt like shit to see the color on his pale skin. He shouldn’t have hit him. Rowe went back to doctoring his knuckles. “You’re going to have to give me more to work with here, buddy.”

Royce closed his eyes and forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths. “I lost someone, partly because of a heart condition we didn’t know he had. But it was my fault.”

Rowe went still, not letting go of Royce’s hand. “Oh,” he said softly. “That explains a lot. Hey.” He patted Royce until he looked back at him. “Are you worried he’s going to keel over on you?”

“I’m worried about the danger I’ll bring to his life. He deserves to be healthy, happy…and alive.”

“Worth everything, you said?”

Royce nodded and stared at the half of the protein bar he had left. The taste of oats and nuts on his tongue made him faintly nauseated.

“Did you know I was discharged from the service because of heart issues? Took a bullet through the back and it fucked with my heart. Army didn’t want me anymore. Heart problems aren’t the end of the world. I’ve found love. Twice. I get pretty damn rowdy with Noah and it hasn’t hurt me yet. Is that what you’re worried about? Sex?”

“No.” He was terrified that losing Marc would kill him, but he didn’t share that with his boss. “Noah doesn’t have an evil, extended family who could hurt you.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with them and everything to do with you being scared. That person you lost, was he or she important?”

“He. I was going to marry him. I loved him, but…” He trailed off because the words tangled together as a lump in his throat. “I feel differently about Marc. I loved Michael, I did. And his death was my fault, so the last thing I deserve is more happiness. But what I feel for Marc is just so much more intense. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to.” Rowe paused, and a small smile spread across his lips. “That man who was racing across the gym to whip your ass although I would have been fine on my own? My love for him humbles me. And his feelings for me do the same. I didn’t feel I deserved that gift, but I thank the universe for it every single day of my life.” He tapped Royce’s hand, so he’d look up at him.

When Royce did, he had to hold his breath at the pain his boss was letting him see.

“I loved my wife with everything I had. I understand the pain of that kind of loss, Royce. And I more than understand the fear you’re letting destroy you right now. Fear that you’ll open yourself back up to that kind of love only to have it ripped away from you again. I’ve been there and it…well, frankly, it sucks ass.” He winked. “And not in the good way.”

Rowe surprised a kind of snort laugh out of Royce.

“I get that you feel you don’t deserve Marc, but I think you do. At one time, I didn’t much like him, but I’ve since spent time with him, and he’s kind of great.”

“Not kind of,” Royce muttered. “I’ve never met anyone like him. The man crawls under your skin to keep you warm from the inside. He’s talented as hell and can’t see beyond his own insecurities.” He cleared his throat and whispered, “He’s so goddamn beautiful, it hurts to look at him.”

“Come here.” Rowe pulled him into a tight hug, sighing once his arms were around Royce, who stiffened in surprise. “You have such a hard time accepting comfort. Such a hard time trusting, and after seeing where you come from, I get it. I know the things you did in the past, and I hired you because I could see the good man that you really are. That you’d left all that behind you. You may not see your worth, but Marc sure as hell does.” He shook his head, still holding on to Royce. “I also get that I’m hugging a bag of hard bones here. Eat some damn food.” He pulled back and tugged on Royce’s beard. “Get some sleep, trim this ridiculous thing because it doesn’t suit you, then go tell Marc everything you just told me. Grab on to your second chance of happiness. I promise you, it’s worth it.”