THE RAIN PELTED THE windows as lightning shot across the sky, and thunder cracked through the night.
It’d been eight days.
The storm had passed and another had blown in. I wasn’t losing hope. I’d lost it.
I’d watched that fancy Alastair’s place Hank had told me about for two days before I admitted Marcus would never step foot in a gym like that. Then I’d starting scouting every gym I found on Google maps within a thirty-mile radius until I found this dump.
If Marcus was going to show up anywhere, it’d be this hole-in-the-wall. The men going in and out at all hours weren’t professionals, but size wise, they were carbon copies of Marcus. This wasn’t where an AFC hopeful would train. Broken signage, filth-caked windows, the smell of stale sweat leaching from every crack in the stucco, this was where you’d train if you were doing unsanctioned fights and wanted to make dirty money.
My bruises had healed, but now my back was sore from sitting so long. Slumped in my seat, the thought of going back to the cockroach-infested motel around the corner made me want to cry.
Where the hell was Marcus?
I picked up my phone and called his cell for the hundredth time, but it went straight to voice mail and I hung up. Thunder rumbled so loud, it felt like my teeth rattled. My eyes fixed on the front entrance, I jumped when my cell rang.
Wary of another call from Ben, crazy with worry over Marcus, I grabbed the phone, almost not wanting to look. When I saw the number from Seven-oh-One, I frowned.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” Hank’s voice boomed through the line.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing. “Hi.”
“When are you going back on the schedule?”
Without Ben’s interference, I doubted Neil or Hank would hold my job indefinitely. “I don’t know.”
I heard the creak of his chair, and I could almost picture him leaning back with his hands on his head. “It’s been over a week.”
I knew exactly how long it’d been. Eight days—I glanced at the clock—and five hours. “I know.”
Hank sighed. “You find him?”
“No.”
“You need help?”
Hank was a good guy. He’d never hit on me. He’d walked me to my car after every shift and was always kind—gruff, but kind. I knew he’d gone out of his way to find out about Alastair’s and the guy Marcus had spoken to, but I couldn’t involve Hank in my problems anymore. “No, but thanks.”
“Where have you looked?”
“Every gym I could find down here,” I admitted. I was still doing drive-bys of four other gyms each day, looking for his truck, but my instinct was telling me Tension. So I spent the majority of my time camped out across the street.
“Only gyms?”
“I checked a few motels around the area.” That’s how I’d found the place I was staying. It was the least offensive of them and it had bars on the windows.
“All right, I’ll make some calls.”
“No!” I didn’t mean to shout at him, but if Marcus knew I was looking for him, he’d make sure I didn’t find him.
“Sia—”
“It’s fine.” I forced my voice back to a fake calm. “You don’t have to call around. I know you’re busy. Don’t worry about it. I’m about to give up anyway,” I lied.
“You know I’m not calling because of Marcus.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Hank sighed. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” The automatic lie rolled off my tongue.
He didn’t reply.
“Thanks for calling. I appreciate—” I didn’t get the rest of the sentence out.
“I know you were in the hospital the night before you left.”
Shocked, I tried not to let my voice show it. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a small town, Sia, and it gets even smaller when a rock star and Talon Talerco carry a beaten woman into the ER.”
“I’m fine.” I choked on my words.
Hank drew in a breath and his tone flipped from caring to pissed off. “I know he’s your brother, but don’t pull that bullshit with me. I’ve seen what Marcus is capable of, and veteran or not, if you’d come to me, I would’ve put a fucking stop to it.”
I buried my face in my hand. “I’ve gotta go.” I needed to end this call.
“Stark isn’t the only one worried about you.”
I ignored him completely. “Thanks again for the tip on the gym. I… I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Either after I found my brother or my credit card was maxed out and my bank account was dry.
“Damn it, Sia, at least tell me where you are, so I know.”
“Tension Fitness,” I rattled off the stupid name of the place.
“That fucking dump in the south end of the city?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a shit neighborhood. You shouldn’t be there by yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
Hank swore. “You can’t help him,” he warned. “Not when he doesn’t want help.”
But that was exactly what no one else understood. Marcus did want help. I knew he did. If only I could find him. “I gotta go, Hank.”
“Okay, but you should know Stark’s blowing up my phone every five minutes, wondering if I’ve talked to you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as pain sliced through my heart. “I, um… I’m sorry he’s bothering you.”
“I’ve known you since high school, and we’ve broken bread a hell of a lot more than once with Marcus and your mom when she was alive. We all sat around that kitchen table and joked while Helen fed us. I might be your boss now, but we’re fucking friends. So hear me when I tell you this—you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
Thunder shook the car and lightning lit up the sky. Rain pelted down in sheets, and two tears dripped down my face. “Good night, Hank.”
He swore again. “I’ll hold your job another couple weeks. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Thanks.” I hung up and stupidly scrolled through the texts from Ben. Then I reread the one from two hours ago.
Please stop shutting me out.
Swiping at my face, I gave up my watch for the night and drove to the motel in total despair. I parked as close as I could to my room, but it didn’t matter. I was soaked through to the bone when I opened the warped door. Shivering, I threw the chain and dead bolt and stripped. The lukewarm water in the shower did nothing to warm me up. Emotionally exhausted, my body sore, I crawled into the mildew-smelling bed and pulled the stained sheet over me. Curled in a ball, I listened to the storm until my phone pinged with a new text.
Goodnight, beautiful. I love you.
Every night at the same time, he texted me. He’d texted me every day too, usually pleading with me to take his calls or text back, but at night, it was always just a simple text.
Staring at my phone, I clung to the five words and sleep eventually took mercy on me.
I didn’t wake until sunlight filtered in through the ratty curtains the next morning. Blinking at the bright light I hadn’t seen in days, I rolled over and thought about a run before resuming my post in front of the gym, but I was getting anxious. Putting my hair up in a high ponytail, I threw on leggings and a jogging bra and bypassed my wet sneakers for flip-flops. Five minutes later, I was unlocking my car.
I barely noticed the morning breeze. Warm air and soft wind that felt like a gentle blanket, sunlight on the palm trees—nothing I loved about Florida made any difference. A hard knot in the pit of my stomach had been growing for days, but today something felt different. Fatalistically different.
I stopped at a convenience store for water and a banana then parked across the street from the gym. A few of the same muscle heads I’d been seeing came and went. The sun moved across the sky and heated up the Mustang to sweltering, so I rolled up the windows and turned on the air-conditioning. As I leaned forward to unstick my top from my back, knuckles rapped on the window.
Jumping a foot in my seat, my ribs hit the steering wheel and I clutched at my chest. A woman with big hair, a face full of makeup, and an angry sneer made a rolling gesture with her finger.
I pushed the down button on the window.
“What the fuck?” She scowled at me.
“Excuse me?” Her cleavage was spilling out of her halter top and her skirt was so short, I could almost see her goods.
“I’ve been watching your sorry ass for six days. You’re lucky it was raining. But now it ain’t, so move the fuck on. This ain’t your beat.”
Oh my God, she was hooker? “I’m not, I mean—”
Her hand moved in a tight circle. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just get the fuck outta here. I ain’t splitting this street with no uptight skinny bitch in a ’stang.”
“I’m waiting for someone.”
Her laugh was bitter. “For six days? You stupid?”
“Um, no.” Desperate wasn’t stupid. Worry wasn’t stupid.
“Lemme guess. He’s built like a motherfucker and treats you like gold.” She snorted.
“It’s my brother,” I said defensively.
“Uh-huh,” she said sarcastically. “Right. A brother who works out at Tension.”
I didn’t say anything.
She stared at me a moment then slowly shook her head. “Damn, girl.” She leaned an arm on my car. “You ain’t bullshitting me, are you?”
I shook my head.
She looked up, closed her eyes, then brought her black-lined gaze back to me and sighed. “You do realize Tension ain’t no place someone goes to if they wanna be found?”
“I know.”
Her hand went to her hip. “All right, Dorothy, what’s he look like?”
“Dorothy?”
“Toto, Kansas, yeah, Dorothy.” She made a get-on-with-it gesture. “What’s he look like?”
“Six-five, brown hair, brown eyes, tattoos, military-style haircut.” I rattled off Marcus’s physical description.
She snorted. “You just described every hot piece of meat in there.”
She was kinda right. “His name is Marcus.”
She laughed like I’d said the funniest thing ever. “They don’t ever tell me their names, honey.”
I blushed. “Yeah, well, I just thought….” I didn’t know what I thought.
A car drove by and two men leered at us. She made a kissing face and muttered under her breath. “Go fuck yourselves, you small-dick assfaces.” She waved her hand and raised her voice to a syrupy sweet tone. “Hey-ay. Looking for a good time?”
The car stopped, and I hit the lock button in a panic. “I’m not—”
“Like I said, Dorothy, I ain’t sharing my beat.” She adjusted her boobs, wiggled her ass and raised her voice again. “See something you like?” She smiled like a hyena at the two men who looked like prison escapees.
“Yeah, bitch, get in. And bring your friend.” The guy in the passenger seat reached behind him and threw open the back door of their ride.
She stepped away from my car. “Dorothy ain’t working today. She’s got a little monthly problem, if you know what I mean.” She looked back at me and smirked before she folded her long legs into their back seat. “Go home, Dorothy,” she called out before the car sped off.
Hank was right. Tension was in a shit neighborhood. I raised my window, and two hours later, when the hooker still hadn’t come back, I told myself I had to face the fact that Marcus might not show. He never went eight days in a row without lifting. He worked out every day, without fail. Even if he was hungover or injured, he put some kind of effort into it.
An hour later, I was scrolling for gyms outside my thirty-mile radius when a cab pulled up in front of Tension. The back door opened, and my heart leapt into my throat.
Marcus got out and swayed when he stood upright.