SHAY:

“She's just in there pacing, honey,” Kylie whispered. “I'm telling you, I know her. She freaks out differently. She'll stew over it and then attack. Shay does not let shit go. I told you she would go after Bronx. You saw how she went after Apollo when he said that shit to Lori.”

“Fuck. Believe me, I know,” Razor replied. “She's tough, but she's goin to crash with all of those things bottled up like that.”

“Right. Should we call...” she let it hang.

Razor must have made a gesture because I could no longer hear them.

“Why? Maybe he could help?” Kylie followed up.

At that moment, I went to their guest room and stopped eavesdropping on them in the kitchen. I had no idea who they were talking about, but it was one of the men. My father, Greg or Bronx and I did not want to see either of them.

My father would get into his protect my daughter mode. Greg was useless and Bronx, well, I couldn't deal with him now. I was angry, pissed and my blood felt like it was about to explode out of my skin at any moment.

There had been a violation, in my hometown and Bronx, of all people, had to save me because he was in the fucking neighborhood.

My neighborhood.

Only God knows what those fuckers were going to do. I had never felt so unsafe in my entire life. It was a disconcerting feeling. As if I was on autopilot, watching my life transpire before my eyes.

I was helpless and on top of all of that, I had froze. My parents didn't raise me to be some weak-willed woman. I could change a tire, fire a gun, ride a horse, hold my own in a fight and slice a man from navel to chin if necessary. My dad called it survival for his only girl.

He never wanted me to be a victim, and that's what I felt like.

A victim.

******

WHEN MONDAY ROLLED around, I was beyond tired, since I hadn't slept much and was still fuming over what happened on Saturday. Kylie and Razor even tried to get me to laugh by having her talk about the new book she started reading by some author who writes about weird stuff like country guys falling in love with city women. They lived in two different states, and when she stopped talking to him, he flew there and nursed her back to health. Some real romantic shit, I guess. Razor was trying to act like he wasn’t into it, but he knew the story better than Kylie. When I was in a better mood, I’d pick it up. Kylie had everyone using their e-Readers with her and her damn books. The book was called By Chance, No Choice by Xyla Turner or was it, Twyla? No, Twyla Turner wrote that book from the hot Damaged Souls series called Scarred. People probably always mixed their names up.

Anyway.

The only way I was able to go home was because I semi-convinced them that I was okay. They were both skeptical, but Kylie drove me home Sunday, in the early afternoon. Neither of them needed to know where I was headed after work on Monday afternoon and especially that I’d be talking to Ed at Manor Guns.

“Shay, what brings you here?” Ed asked.

He had to be around six foot and five inches. His legs were skinny, but his top was hefty like he only worked out that half.  His sun-beat skin was reddish, and his long brown and gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Clear goggles hung from around his neck, and his holster was tight around his jean-covered waist.

Ed had been here ever since my dad brought me as a teenager. He was the one that taught me everything about guns.

“Hey Ed, I’d like to purchase a gun.” 

One of his hairy eyebrows raised on his long face, then he said, “That so?”

“Yeah. My dad taught me for a reason. He brought me to you, so I think it’s time.”

I tried to keep my voice measured and not sound anxious or angry.

“Okay, were you looking for anything specific?” he asked.

“Well, I’m open to recommendations. Something that fits my hand, and doesn’t need a lot of strength to pull or have a strong kickback.”

His head nodded, then he said, “Okay, you know there’s a fairly short process but it does include an application, background check and if the gun needs any customizations, then I’ll have to order it.” He slid me a thick packet and said, “Fill this out, sit tight and I’ll get the paperwork started for you.”

They asked questions about my mental state, criminal records including abuse and any DUI’s. Bronx saved me from going to jail that day with Apollo because the abuse would have definitely occurred. The man actually slapped me on the ass to shut me up. To this day, I wasn’t sure why that worked, but I had felt compelled to keep my mouth shut.

I shook my head at the memory and finished answering all of the questions.

“Thanks so much Ed, I appreciate your help with this.” I handed him the paperwork and took a seat.

Wow.

I thought I’d have to do some more convincing, or he’d threaten to call my dad to see what was going on or something.

Nope. He simply trusted me as an adult and respected that fact. I’d have my gun before the end of the month if all went well. I needed to add Ed to my official Christmas list because his faith in my ...

What the fuck?

No need to finish that thought, because Ed just got put on my shit list.

“Shay, what ya doing here?” Bronx asked as he walked in with a purpose.

I was his purpose.

“Ed, call you?” I looked towards the office. “That son of a bitch.”

“Looking out for you,” he nodded.

“I can look out for myself,” I said rather loudly. “Thank you very much.”

“You need a gun to do that?” he asked.

“Maybe?” I stood and folded my arms over my chest.

Bronx nodded his head.

“Alright, so you know how to shoot one, but the question is, do you need one?”

Who the fuck did he think he was trying to analyze and question me?

I stepped to him and said, “It’s for my safety.”

“You in some danger I need to know about?” He looked down at me with concerned eyes.

The last thing I needed was ‘Bronx pity.’

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” I looked another way. “You’ve done more than enough and I never said thank you for the other day.”

“No need to thank me, Shay.” He turned my chin back around towards him. “It was you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You were in danger.”

“But you could have gotten hurt. What if one of them would have pulled something on you or grabbed a gun or some shit?”

The side of his lip turned up, then he said, “I would have dealt with it.”

“Well, I should have dealt with it and not involved anyone else.” I looked at the side of his bruised lip and raised my hand to touch it, but stopped myself.

“I’m fine.” Bronx grabbed my wrist and placed my fingers on his lip. “See.”

I snatched it away from his smooth face and said, “Well, good. But you or no one else is going to persuade me not to get a gun.”

Bronx nodded his head and said, “Okay, fine. But first, can I show you something and then by that time Ed will be finished typing all of that paperwork in his old system, and the background check should be complete as well?”

My eyebrow rose as I contemplated him. What was his deal?

“Look, just come with me and until you get your gun, I’ll even let you hold one of mine.”

Well, this was a no-brainer.

“Fine.”

I led the way towards the door and headed for his truck. Bronx had that truck since I had known him. It was a beat-up piece of shit, but I guess it got him from point A to point B.

He didn’t say much on the short ride over to the gym that was renamed to RIGOR, but when I refused to get out of the car, he opened my door and said, “Come on. I just want you to try something out.”

Mentally, I was shaking my head. Since when did Bronx and I travel together to try anything out?

What the fuck was going on? 

We entered the gym, where everyone greeted him. A few guys asked, “Is that you?”

He didn’t respond, but each nodded their heads like he did. It smelled like sweaty, stinky men and not the type that was sexy.

More like repulsive.

Bronx walked into a room, pulled a pair of gloves and tape from a locker, then he went to another locker and pulled out a pink pair. He turned to look at me, probably to see if what I was wearing would work.

“Can you put your hair in a ponytail?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” I had gone along so far, but I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do.

He turned to face me fully and said, “You’re angry, upset, and feeling vulnerable. You go and want to get a gun, but a scared person with a gun is not someone who should have one.”

“I’m not scared,” I snapped back at him. “I’m trying to protect myself.”

“Fine,” he moved towards me. “I’m about to show you how to do that another way.”

“I do know how to defend myself,” I countered.

“Then, show me.” He held up the gloves.

He grabbed an overly huge tank top and gave it to me and threw some shorts from the folded list of shorts towards me.

“Those should fit,” he said.

“Whose stuff is this?”

“The clubs. We buy extra stuff and keep in here in storage.”

“We?” I asked.

“Yeah.” His eyes met mine. “I own the place.”

“How did I not know that?”

Bronx shook his head and said, “Get dressed and meet me in room five.”

What the fuck was I doing?

Oh well, I did not back down from a challenge, so I put those clothes on and walked swiftly to room five. The smell on the way there was so wretched, that I had to cover my nose.

When I entered, Bronx had changed into sweats and a tank top with no shoes or socks. I wanted to see his feet, which was stupid, but he kept moving around and clearing the floor of blue squares, long poles, and mats.

“Since you own this place, you should get an automatic air freshener. This place smells.” I closed the door.

“Noted. I'll get on that,” Bronx nodded.  “Why did you want to buy a gun?”

His voice projected around the small room.

“To protect myself,” I said as I walked to the center where he was.

“Why a gun?” he asked.

“Because, Bronx. I want to ensure that I’ve hit my target, okay.” My agitation level rose. “You want me to beat them up like you did? I don’t have your fucking strength.”

“Shay, I’m not saying that. I’m saying, what happened to you on Saturday was traumatic, and I probably added to that trauma. I want you to deal with it and not let it consume you.”

“The fuck?” I moved towards him. “Are you my goddamn psychologist?”

“Nope.” He held up the tape. “Give me your wrist.”

“Fuck this! I’m outta here.”

I’d had enough.

Bronx was on some pyscho babbling shit, and I did not have time to be analyzed.

As I grabbed the door handle, Bronx said, “You show me, and I’ll leave it alone.”

“Show you what?” I asked.

“That you’re not angry. That you’re fine. That you are okay with walking these streets with a gun.”

AHHHH.

“Yes, I’m fucking angry,” I screamed. “I feel violated in my own goddamn town, Bronx. So, yes, I want to protect myself. There is nothing wrong with that. I need protection. A gun will protect me.”

“No, Shay. Guns don’t protect. People with guns can protect people, but they can also hurt people.”

I stormed over to him and got in his face. “Do you think I’d hurt someone that didn’t deserve to be hurt?”

“Not on purpose,” he answered.

He had a lot of nerve.

“You mean like you almost killed that guy on Saturday?” I raised an eyebrow.

At first he didn’t say anything, and then he bent down, so his nose was nearly touching mine. “Exactly like that.”

“So, it’s okay for you to be reckless and not me?” I was poking the bear, but I couldn’t stop.

“I wasn’t reckless,” he sneered.

“You could have fucking died, Bronx. Meddling in somebody else affairs. It was five of them, and there you go, Mr. Big Shit, going to save the day.” I was beyond angry as the thoughts of what could have happened started to come at me from every angle. “You could have killed that man and worse, you could have been killed.”

“But you would still be alive.” He stood to his full height as if the conversation was over.

I planted both of my hands on his chest and pushed hard. He went absolutely nowhere.

Mother fucker.

I went to push again and this time, Bronx grabbed my hands put them near my ears and said, “Ball up your fist and cover your face.”

He did that on Saturday when he was fighting. This made me no difference because I kept attacking him with my hands.

“You’re angry,” he said. “Good. Now focus it and put it towards a target. Try to hit me.”

I could do that.

My feet planted, I swung and missed. I kept that up a few more times and missed. Then I tried to tackle him, but he moved me to the side, causing me to run past him.

Fuck.

“Hit me, Shay. You already smacked me once. I know you want to hit me again. Focus,” he taunted. “Like all those clothes that you wear with ‘FOCUS’ tagged all over them. Now is your time to focus. Channel that anger.”

Fuck him and his goddamn logic. He even had the nerve to bring up me repping my cousin, Katina’s, clothing line. She has Fibromyalgia and the FOCUS clothing line name came about because her illness interfered with her not being able to focus on more than one thing at a time! So, I bought a bunch of her clothes and wore them all around Lancaster County. Those were the things I supported, not stupid men that broke women’s hearts.

I started watching his movements. He was going back and forth on his legs, which made him more agile and quick. The only way to land a hit was for me to trick him and have him think I was going to do one thing and then do the other. Moving my fists up to my ears, I circled around with him on the mat, then I acted like I was going to lunge for him again, but when he went to move me, I pivoted, grabbed his arm and punched him in the stomach.

YES.

He smiled and then swept his foot under my feet, sending me to the ground.

Son of a bitch.

“No time to celebrate,” he said. “Now get up and do it again.”

I wasn’t able to hit him again, but after he had put the tape on my wrists and gloves on my hands, he held the blue shield up to let me hit it until my heart was content.

Well, it was beyond content, as I wailed on it to the point that tears were coming down my face as I thought about what happened on Saturday, what had happened to Kylie, what could have happened to Bronx and me.

I thought he was going to stop, but he kept pushing the mat my way, and I kept hitting it harder and harder. The tears poured down my face, and I felt ready to collapse. Instead, I leaned on the bars of the room, and Bronx dropped the mat and pulled me into his arms, where I continued to cry.

“Shay, it’s okay.” He rubbed my back. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

I pushed back and said, “Yes, I do. You don’t understand. I have to take care of myself.”

“No, Shay. You have an entire family that has your back,” he countered.

“No, Bronx. My parents are ...”

“I was talking about the Guardians,” he interrupted me.

“The Guardians,” I scoffed. “They can’t go everywhere with me. I can’t be on their detail forever. I appreciate what you guys have done, but that is going to end. There is nothing wrong with needing to protect myself.”

Bronx looked at me and cursed under his breath.

Then he backed us up against the blue padded wall, and all the air in the room seemed to leave.

“Shay, I...,” he paused. “I’ll protect you.”

“Bronx.” I looked up into his eyes. “No, you won’t. I’ll protect myself.”

He shook his head, “It’s the least I can do?”

“Why?” I was curious why he felt that I was his burden to carry. “Because you broke my heart. You feel like you need to make amends.”

Yes, we were going there today. He wanted to box and hash shit out, and we’d do just that.

“You pulled a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, and you knew I was head over heels for you. ‘Got a call’.” I made air quotes with my fingers, “And had to leave, right after we had sex.”

His eyes grew wider and his mouth slightly opened.

“Is that what you think happened?”

“It’s what I know happened,” I sneered. “You were never trying to start anything with me. I was gone for you. Like Lori was for Apollo, and you just fucked me and was done.”

His forehead hit mine, when he said, “Kitten, that’s not what happened.”

“It is,” I argued.

“No,” his hands landed on my hips as his body moved in closer. “Fuck. I didn’t know. I, uh, really did have a call that I needed to get to. My cousin, Trey, in Harrisburg was mugged, and the son of a bitch shot someone that night. I had to go and bail him out of jail. Of all the fucking nights, I could have shot him myself. Fuck me.”

His eyes were wide with disbelief as he rubbed his bald head.

What?

All this time.

I exhaled, and it felt like more weight had been lifted off of me.

“I thought you didn’t want me?” I looked at him. “You never said anything.”

“You wouldn’t hear me, Shay. I tried. Then I thought it was best that the both of us remained whatever we were. I had shit to deal with, and I figured you’d fall for some other guy, and he’d make you happy and give you babies. Little girls with your eyes, cheeks, and long hair. Sassy little ladies, like their mama. I prayed he’d take you around the world, show you every wonder and all the shit you deserve. I wanted that for you. I still want that for you.”

“Then do it,” I heard myself say.

Bronx lips crashed down on mine as he easily lifted me up against the padded wall. He completely invaded my mouth with his slippery tongue and small nips from his teeth. My hands were all over his bald, sweaty head and his were gripping my ass while he moved his hard cock up and down my soaking center.

Holy fuck.

His large hands slid on the inside of my pants and underwear, so his scorching palm had direct skin-to-skin contact with my ass.

Bronx continued to explore my mouth with his tongue while I pressed into him harder as he surveyed familiar territory. He was growing and getting longer as we continued to grind against each other’s sensitive parts. Those thin shorts of his certainly didn’t stop the notion that we were closer to nakedness than being fully clothed. The bottom of my tank top had already started rising, and the strap was already falling off my shoulder.

“Bronx,” I moaned as I pulled back and grabbed on his ears.

“Fuck, Shay.” He quickly turned and laid me down on the blue mat. “Tell me to stop now.”

One side of my mouth lifted.

“Now, dammit. Tell me to stop,” he urged, but I said nothing.

Bronx ripped my shorts down, and his hand began to rub over my panty-covered crotch. His eyes remained on mine, as his fingers moved under my underwear to my wet folds and dripping opening. He started to rub my taut nub in a slow rhythm with his eyes still on mine.

“Come, baby,” Bronx said, “All over my fingers.”

For the record, I was not the type of woman that believed in orgasms on demand. Actually, I always laughed at the notion that the man said a word or two and the woman, simply erupted.

Well, I was proven a liar that day. Bronx said six words and the surge raced down my spine, to my already moist center and the fireworks began. My ‘O’ shaped mouth started to scream as I pulled away from Bronx. I didn't get very far since his huge body covered mine and his lips seem to capture every noise, moan, and pant for more.

Bronx’s hand was no longer in my panties. Now it was his raging cock rubbing against what felt like nothing between us.

A hard knock came on the door that echoed throughout the room.

“Occupied?” the muffled voice called.

Bronx lifted his top half off of me, but his fiery eyes remained on mine.

“Coming out. We’re done,” he yelled back.

My head fell back on the mat as I closed my eyes and huffed.

“This is not where I want to take you, Shay.” He shook his head. “I want to actually hear you screaming my name.”

Well, shit.

I moaned as he moved his finger down my breast and lower to my stomach.

“Yeah, not here,” he reiterated.

“Okay, Bronx.”

We packed up and left so the class could get started.

I also had the distinct feeling that something else was about to get started too.