Grace for Drowning Read online

  I thought back to his story about Ace. "Yeah, I guess he does."

  "Then hopefully he won't push the issue."

  But what if I want him to push the issue? His behavior made so little sense. That attraction was real. It had to be. Which meant there was something he wasn't telling me.

  The whole situation was a mess. I'd never been more confused in my whole life.

  *****

  Charlie found me the next evening when I was out the back checking stock. You might think this was fairly innocuous, after all, he was my boss, but for all the time we spent together in the same building, we hadn't ever really had a proper conversation. He mostly just left the bar to run itself, and when he did make an appearance to give the ship a gentle nudge back on course, he was all business. That had been just fine with me, given that he'd been about five seconds away from firing me a few weeks back. I had half hoped the whole thing would just quietly fade from memory without comment, but I guess that was asking a little much.

  "How you holding up out there tonight?" he asked me.

  I shrugged. "Fine. It's a little quiet, truth be told."

  He nodded, as if that's exactly the response he was expecting. I got the sense that was about all the small talk I was going to get before he said whatever he'd really come to say. The way he studied me made me uncomfortable. It was the same sort of look Logan leveled at me from time to time, one that saw far deeper than you wanted it to. Perhaps that was standard issue in the military; one set of fatigues, one rifle, one penetrating gaze.

  "And how about in general? You doing okay?" he continued. He had every right to be angry, but I had no idea if he was. His expression was utterly unreadable.

  I debated trying to brush the question aside with some vague answer, but we both knew what he was really asking. "Yeah, I think so. Maybe not good, but better." I took a deep breath. Time to bite the bullet. "Listen, Charlie, I'm really sorry. I know drinking on the job was stupid. Not to mention thoughtless. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just haven't been myself lately." I had no idea how much Logan had told him, but I really didn't want to get into the whole thing now.

  He chewed on those words for several seconds. "I appreciate the apology."

  "Sorry it came so late. I was embarrassed, to tell you the truth." And scared, but I didn't want to admit that.

  "I get it. I know plenty of people who've been where you are. I may not have much tolerance for that shit in my bar, but I understand it."

  It was a warning, but also a show of support. Some of the tension bled from my muscles. "Well, thank you for giving me another chance. I'd be out on the street if it wasn't for this job."

  "Don't thank me. Thank Logan. He's the one who stood up for you."

  "I know, and I'm really grateful, but you didn't have to say yes."

  "Maybe not, but I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress." He gave a wry little laugh. "Besides, I think Logan might have introduced my head to the table if I hadn't."

  The idea of Logan getting so worked up over my wellbeing still confused me. "Well, I won't make you regret it."

  "I hope not."

  That felt like it should have been the end of the conversation, but Charlie didn't move, and since he was standing in the doorway of the storeroom, that meant I couldn't leave either.

  "You need to be careful with him," he said after several seconds.

  "Careful?" I didn't like where the conversation was going.

  "That's right. I don't know what's going on between you two, but it worries me. Logan looks tough, but that man has been through hell, and believe me when I tell you that hell leaves scars."

  Apparently it wasn't just Joy who had noticed the tension between Logan and I. That was unsettling. The clearer it was to the world, the harder it was to ignore.

  I sighed. "I don't know what's going on between us either." I could have lied, but I got the sense he wouldn't buy it. "But Logan seems like he can take care of himself."

  "You might be surprised."

  I didn't know what to make of that. Logan obviously had his share of pain and trauma, but by all appearances he seemed like he had it under control.

  "I'm not trying to step on any toes here," Charlie continued. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

  "Well, I appreciate your concern."

  He gave a curt nod, and then was gone. It was a confusing exchange. Clearly he cared about Logan. Perhaps he was worried I'd be a bad influence? That I might cause him to slip back into old habits? I didn't want to be the source of any more trouble, but the longer this went on, the more sense I got that trouble might find me, regardless of what I wanted.

  *****

  The bar had grown busier as the week progressed. Logan's fight with Caesar was just a few days away now, and the anticipation was like a tangible presence hanging in the air. The crowd was louder, the drinking freer. It made for tiring nights, but at least it kept me busy. Idle hands lead to idle thoughts, and right now my head was full of an awful lot of stuff I didn't have any idea how to process.

  The tension between Logan and I ebbed a little, but as much as I wanted to, I couldn't just forget what had happened. When we were together, I did my best to ignore him, but I found my eyes wandering nonetheless. Could I really see myself with him? It was a strange image. My past boyfriends had all been nice, ordinary guys. At the time, I'd thought each was amazing, but when I weighed them against Logan in my head, they all suddenly came up...less, somehow. I hated that I felt that way. There had been nothing wrong with any of them. Tom had been good looking, in a slim, hipster sort of way, but there was none of Logan's raw, masculine presence in him. I think I finally understood the allure of the bad boy. The man was dangerous, and that still scared me, but it was the sort of fear that comes tinged with a frisson of excitement, more thrill than outright terror.

  The night before the fight, I was wiping down a bench shortly before closing time, when Joy sidled up next to me and nudged my elbow. "You should probably see this." The gravity of her tone told me I wasn't going to like what I found.

  I followed her gaze toward the door and spotted Logan chatting to a tall brunette in a red cocktail dress. This in itself was not unusual. Logan received plenty of advances from female customers. I mean, how could he not? What was different was the fact that he wasn't rebuffing her. He had his hand curled possessively around one hip while she leaned in to whisper into his ear. What really got to me though was his smile. Logan was a serious guy at the best of times. Knowing what I did about his past, I kind of understood. But that wasn't the case around me. He had this way of smiling at me that made me feel like I was the only person in the whole world who mattered. It was stupid, but I felt like that was my smile. Only now it wasn't because he was directing it at someone else.

  "Maybe he's just being polite," I said, but there was no conviction in it.

  "Maybe," Joy replied.

  Logan glanced up and caught me staring, and some of his enthusiasm leeched away. Was that guilt playing in his eyes? Or anger? He was so difficult to read, I had no idea. He swallowed hard and then turned back to his new friend.

  I tore my gaze away and fled to the other end of the bar. Nothing had happened between us, and I wasn't even sure I wanted it to but, nonetheless, I couldn't watch that. It was irrational and unfair, but the thought of him with anyone else drove a spear of jealousy up through my stomach.

  Joy followed. "Want to talk about it?"

  I shrugged, racking a tray of glasses with more energy than necessary. "There's nothing to talk about. I guess I was imaging things after all." It didn't make any sense, but what other explanation was there? "Anyway, I'm fine. It's probably better this way."

  Her mouth tightened. "If you say so. But just FYI, if you want me to beat him up for you, I'm happy to oblige."

  In spite of that betrayal, the image of this slight little red head trying to take out that mountain of muscle brought a smile to my face. "Think you can take him?"

&nbs
p; "Definitely. He may be strong, but he's a guy so he's got a weak spot." She leaned in close, and in an exaggerated voice whispered, "It's his balls."

  I managed to summon a half-hearted laugh. "Solid plan."

  I tried to resist, but about a minute later, the masochistic part of me won out and I glanced back over. Neither Logan nor the brunette were anywhere in sight. My stomach sank.

  There was every chance he'd left alone, but I couldn't make myself believe it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grace

  The next night I was scheduled to work the little bar that was tucked into the corner of the arena. Ninety five percent of the time it went unused, but on Final Blow nights Charlie opened it so people could get their drink on without missing any of the action. It was my first fight, and despite my relative indifference to the sport itself, I couldn't help but enjoy the spectacle of it. The arena always seemed hollow and dingy in the light of day, but the swelling crowd, thumping music and bright lights brought it alive. Right now, it felt more like being in a big top than a bar.

  The night was structured around what Charlie referred to as a card; basically a series of fights culminating in the clash between Logan and Caesar. Their bout was the talk of the room. Logan had seemed nonchalant about it, but the buzz around the bar said his opponent was serious business. He had a perfect record in his league over in Chicago, and it was rumored he was being courted by the UFC. I didn't know much about the sport, but I knew that meant he was no slouch in the ring.

  Ask me a week ago, and I'd have told you I was excited to see Logan fight. Part of me still was, but I couldn't deny that I was hurt by his sudden back-flip. He didn't owe me anything, and I knew that logically it was better if nothing happened between us, but every time I pictured his hand around that hussy's waist, I found my jaw clenching.

  The me of a few months ago would have let that send her hurtling toward rock bottom again, but now I was more determined than ever to stay on the path. I'd made such progress over the last few weeks. I felt better than I had in a long time, and I wasn't about to let one dubious moment between us throw all of that into jeopardy. In a week or two I'd forget all about it. I had to. For now, the mission was to stay positive and try to have fun.

  And fitting with that goal, tonight my partner in crime behind the bar was Jonah. He'd grown on me a lot, recently. When I first started at Charlie's, he'd struck me as just another immature player who'd happily chat up anything in a skirt, but there was something vaguely charming about his shamelessness. No amount of rejection seemed to stem the tide of one-liners and pick up attempts. All in all, he was fun to be around, and I figured that as long as he didn't push the issue too far, he was harmless enough.

  "First fight?" he asked, during one of our rare lulls.

  "Yep."

  "Did Charlie give you your goggles yet?"

  "Goggles?" I asked.

  He frowned. "I guess that's a no. That's okay, there's a spare pair here." He reached under the bar and fished out a pair of clear Perspex goggles, the kind you'd typically find in a woodworking shop.

  "What the hell are these for?" I asked, turning them over in my hand.

  "You don't know?" I shook my head. "Oh, shit. Well basically, when you work these fights, you're supposed to put on a pair of goggles. Stops you getting blood in your eyes. Something to do with OH&S."

  I felt a lump building in my throat and I glanced at the arena, which was at least fifteen feet away. "Blood? But they're all the way over there."

  He stared at me like I was an idiot. "It's a fight, of course there's blood. These guys hit hard. I mean, some nights are worse than others, but you'll always get at least a few splashes. Ever wonder why the Charlie's tees are black?"

  He let me dangle like that for several seconds, images of the two of us painted scarlet-red from head to toe playing through my mind, before bursting out laughing. "Works every time."

  My cheeks turned hot and I aimed a not-too-gentle punch at his shoulder. "Not funny," I replied, although I felt a smile tugging at my lips.

  "If you'd seen your face, you'd disagree," he replied. "In all seriousness, don't worry. These nights are fun, and if you get into any trouble, I'll take care of you."

  I rolled my eyes. "My hero."

  The room filled quickly, and by the time the first fighters were announced, there wasn't a free seat to be seen.

  A familiar voice rang out through the room. "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to another action packed night of Final Blow." Charlie stood in the center of the cage, a microphone in hand and a giant grin plastered across his face.

  The crowd roared in response. Logan had told me the room held five hundred, but I swear to God, it sounded like a Yankees game from the inside.

  "We've got a fantastic show for you this evening," continued Charlie, "including one new face from all the way over in Chicago."

  A few audience members let out good natured boos.

  "Now, now, be nice, folks. We're all friends here. And on that note, I'd like you to give a warm welcome to our first fighters tonight. You've seen them both before, but never in the ring at the same time. In the blue corner, we've got a fan favorite. A local boy. He's two hundred pounds of raw punching power. Give it up for Joe 'Kitty Cat' Thomppppsssson."

  The rumble from the bleachers grew louder still, and Charlie drank it up. He'd always seemed reserved to me, but he was every bit the showman now, his voice rising in a trembling crescendo that made me think of the boxing matches my dad used to watch on TV.

  Jonah leaned over until his shoulder lay against mine, which wasn't difficult considering how cramped it was behind the bar. "You know why they call him Kitty Cat?"

  I shrugged. "Because it's so intimidating?"

  He shot me what I'd come to think of as his panty-dropping grin. It didn't do much for me, but I'd seen plenty of women go weak at the knees before it, so maybe I was just missing something. "Because whenever people knock him down he seems to always wind up on his feet."

  "And here I was expecting some joke involving the word 'pussy.'"

  "Then you obviously don't know me very well. I'm nothing but serious when it comes to pussy."

  I laughed. "And there it is."

  By now, Charlie had welcomed both men into the ring. They were shirtless, and while neither quite had Logan's sheer size or tone, they each cut rather intimidating figures. God, when did I start comparing all men to Logan?

  After a little more ceremony and a touching of their thin black gloves, the two men took a few steps backward, and the fight was on. I'd watched Logan train a lot, but that didn't prepare me for the reality of this sort of combat. This wasn't a gentleman's game in any form. Almost any kind of damage they could inflict with their body was allowed. The men circled one another, probing and testing, before one of them would snap forward like a snake to land a bone shuddering punch. Each impact left me wincing in sympathy, but somehow they soaked up the punishment.

  One of the men seemed eager to take things to the ground, but the other kept him at bay with a lightning quick array of punches and kicks. They slugged it out like that for several rounds, and it felt like neither really had the edge, but moments before the bell rung for the third time, one of those punches connected, and the other man dropped like a stone.

  The crowd roared their approval. I wanted to be mortified, but the energy in the air was infectious, and I found myself screaming too.

  The next two fights weren't quite so intense, both ending in submissions rather than knockout blows, and before I knew it, Logan's time arrived.

  "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for," called Charlie. "This is going to be some fight, folks. The local hero against the Illinois powerhouse. In the blue corner, hailing all the way from snowy Chicago, give a warm Las Vegas welcome for Martin 'Caesar' Bianco!"

  A few more boos rang out from the crowd, but this time most people showed Caesar the same respect as the other fighters, cheering and hollering as they'd done all
night. The guy that stepped into the ring certainly looked like he deserved it. He was a ridiculous specimen of a man — broad chested and long limbed and padded from head to toe in thick slabs of muscle. If I had to guess, I'd have said he was even taller than Logan. Objectively, he should have been good looking, with the kind of strong chin and blonde shaggy hair usually found in glossy magazines, but the movie star smirk on his face was so off-putting it ruined any sense of appeal he might have had. It was a look that said "everybody is paying attention to me and that's exactly the way things should be."

  "And in the red corner, the reigning Final Blow champion. He's a Vegas legend in the making. Make some noise for Logan 'Blackjack' Anderson."

  My lungs hitched as Logan strode into view, muscles flexing in the spotlights. I'd seen him training many times before, but this was different. There was an intent to his movements now, a sense of gravity and power that set adrenaline surging through my veins. He walked out there like he owned the place, like he owned the world. There wasn't a man in the room that could compare to that raw strength and sheer masculinity.

  I'd thought the crowd was loud before, but that was a whimper compared to the cacophony that erupted as he stepped up to meet his opponent. I'd been right, Caesar was taller by at least half a foot, which made him a truly intimidating foe. But Logan didn't look fazed. He just radiated steely confidence.

  I yanked my gaze away. His actions last night proved he didn't want me, so I certainly didn't want to pine after him. Unfortunately, there was nothing else to do but watch. The queue in front of us had evaporated. Now that the main event had started, apparently nobody even wanted to miss the thirty seconds it would take to get a drink.

  "Is this normal?" I asked, nodding to the empty space.

  Jonah shrugged. "When Logan fights, yeah, it's pretty much all eyes on him." That smile bloomed on his face once more and he raised one eyebrow suggestively. "In fact, we could basically get away with whatever we want until the end of the first round. Quick shag behind the bar?"