I wanted to have the fucking shit kicked out of me, to jolt me out of the place in my head that told me I’d done something wrong. That I’d defiled someone I was meant to protect and tarnished her with my touch.
Ryker landed the first blow against my cheek after I didn’t even try to block it. Pain flooded the area immediately, and Ryker paused on his pull-back to narrow his eyes on my face. “I see it’s one of those days, huh?” he asked, delivering the second punch to my other cheek.
Most of the other guys would stop when I didn’t try to defend myself. They’d refuse to be a part of the toxic cycle, but not Ryker. He knew what I needed and how it helped to keep me functioning.
And he always delivered.
He landed blow after blow to my torso, leaving me with aching welts that I knew would bruise. I struck back often enough to make it a fight, to give him the sparring session he needed, in return for not stopping.
He freed me from the cage inside my mind, giving me the physical relief I needed until there was only clarity.
I couldn’t be what Irina needed, not when I was guilty of the very same crimes against myself as she was. I’d asked her to come to me when she needed pain, but what was I going to do with that? Was I going to bleed her myself and watch the deep red run along my blade and know that the latest of her scars was there by my hand?
I didn’t think so, even if it did appeal to the darkest part of me. Causing her pain wasn’t on my list of things I wanted to experience with her. She needed help, from someone far better equipped than me, and I just needed to get out of her way long enough for her to find it.
14
IRINA
I strolled along the cobblestone path through the rose gardens, following the twisting road to the building that Ivory said housed the gym the guys used on the property. My jeans hugged my legs tightly, keeping out the chill of March on the cold breeze, along with the long wool coat that fell down past the swell of my hips.
I rubbed my hands together, bringing them up to my face to blow on them, and wished I’d had the foresight to grab my gloves from the center console of my car. I hadn’t anticipated walking to the back of the property, thinking Scar would be inside the main house with Ivory.
But she said she hadn’t seen him all day, and her face was tight with concern when she admitted it. It didn’t seem common for him to just disappear for the day. His absences when he stalked me tended to be more geared toward the nighttime hours when she’d have Matteo at her side.
The brick building emerged from the landscape as I made my way around the back edge of the gardens, almost warehouse-like in construction, but much more modern and clean than I would have expected.
I pushed the doors open, hurrying into the warmth inside and breathing a sigh of relief when I closed the doors behind me and shut out the cold. All eyes fell on me as I moved into the open space at the front, looking around cautiously in a moment of insecurity.
Usually, unknown places required me to wear my business face. To don the mask of the bold woman who would do whatever it took to see justice for her kids. Being just Irina left me unsettled.
I didn’t know who she was without her work.
Someone whistled, and the reaction snapped me out of my reverie. I straightened my shoulders, turning to face the man who looked me up and down like a piece of meat. “You lost, Little Lamb? I can help you find your way home.”
“I’m looking for Scar,” I said, pointedly ignoring the invitation. “Ivory said I’d probably find him here.”
“Shame. He wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you,” he grunted, nodding his head toward the boxing rings at the back of the gym.
“You’re trying for that whole big dick energy thing. I’ll give you that,” I said, huffing a laugh. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Men who actually have big dicks don’t have to be so obnoxious and desperate for it.”
His friend burst out laughing at his back, slapping him on the shoulder as he gaped at me. “Damn girl, what the fuck?”
“You said Scar was this way?” I asked, pointing toward the boxing rings with a saccharine smile. I made my way past the men who had paused to watch my brief exchange with the horndog who needed to be taken down a peg or two and learn some respect.
My eyes landed on the center ring, watching the two men within spar with movements so fast it was almost impossible to know what limb belonged to who. There was no mistaking the breathtakingly beautiful face of Scar as he ducked and jabbed, only the scar across his oh-so-slightly crooked nose marring the perfection of his features.
Someone whistled again, more loudly the second time, and I turned back to glare at whomever had bothered with me after the first one. When he nodded toward the ring, I spun back and Scar and his opponent had stopped fighting.
He was panting as his eyes came to rest on me standing there, clearly exhausted from the workout. His body was bruised, deep red welts forming where Ryker had landed vicious punches against his body. One side of his face was swollen, the skin over his cheekbone split open.
But even the fresh injuries that I wanted to tend to couldn’t distract me from the utter decimation of his body. Scars from old wounds covered him in criss-crossing lines across his chest that looked like they continued onto his back. Burn marks dotted his biceps and forearms, and six round scars signaled the bullets he’d taken to save Ivory’s life not long ago.
The realization of how close I’d come to losing him before I’d ever even known he existed was like a wave threatening to pull me under a surge of emotion.
He maneuvered through the ropes, jumping down from the ring and storming over to me. His body was slick with sweat, and the first discolorations of bruises were appearing all over his body. “What are you doing here, Irina?” he asked, the use of my name feeling like a betrayal in itself.
I wasn’t Irina, not to him.
But it seemed that in public, I wasn’t his butterfly, either. Just another secret to add to his collection.
“I just wanted to check on you, after last night,” I said, crossing my arms self-consciously as all my worries came rushing back. Had I crossed the line coming here?
He’d left so suddenly the night before, I needed the closure of knowing what was going on in his head. He was too hot and cold, too unpredictable, and I couldn’t take it.
I needed to know where he stood, but looking at him then, I had a feeling I already did. The Scar standing in front of me was vastly different from the man who’d told me to come to him the next time I needed to feel pain. He was a world removed from the man who’d been outraged at the sight of my scars.
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” he said harshly, making me flinch back from the cruelty in his voice as he turned his face away and looked at one of the other men nearby. It was a blatant dismissal, but I couldn’t seem to make my feet move.
Gone was the man who’d looked at me like I could be his everything. In his place stood a cold, unfeeling monster who looked at me like I wasn’t worth the dirt beneath his shoes.
I stretched out a hand, my fingers coming so close to touching one of the particularly gruesome slashes across his collarbone. “Don’t, Irina,” he warned, making me draw back my hand. I had thought to find some semblance of the connection we’d shared the night before.