Ruthless Salvation

8

“f**k you, Shae,” I wheezed back at her, pissed that I sounded so damn pathetic. Never would have happened if thoughts of Storm and that damn Russian hadn’t distracted me.

Once I got back to my feet, we started another round, and this time, Shae got as good as she gave. I forced myself through a punishing workout to drive out thoughts of Stormy. No matter how hard I tried to focus on family business and questions surrounding the Russian, my thoughts always drifted back to guileless brown eyes and a charming Southern twang.

Something about her had sprouted an insidious infection in my brain—a diseased addiction that I couldn’t shake. I hated feeling out of control. And where Storm was concerned, I was in the passenger seat with my fixation behind the wheel. I had to find a way to get out of that damn car because its trajectory ended in a fiery ball of flames.

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Present

A FAMILIAR KNOCK ON MY DOOR BROUGHT A HUGE GRIN TO MY FACE. I used to spend my days off alone, but since moving to New York, my life had grown remarkably fuller.

I opened the door to find Micky chatting with Luke, our mutual friend who lived across the hall from me. “Hey, you two! Y’all grab coffee without me?” I looked at the steaming cup in Luke’s hand, my brows arched high in mock offense.

“My budget’s too tight this week for coffee,” Micky grumbled. “We just happened to have good timing.”

I eyed them playfully. “I suppose I’ll let you off the hook … this time.” “Off the hook! We didn’t do anything,” Micky teased back.

“Besides,” Luke added, “looks like you two are the ones leaving a guy out. You have something fun planned today?”

“Hardly,” Micky grumbled. “My roommate has a friend over, and I need to study.”

“She’s going to hang here while I hit the laundromat,” I explained.

Luke’s smile morphed to a cartoonish grimace. “Yikes, that sounds like more fun than I can handle.”

“Oh, hey!” another familiar voice called out, this one far less welcome. “I’m glad I caught you.”

The three of us looked over to where Ralph, the building superintendent, exited the stairwell onto our floor. He looked genuinely excited to see us, which was disconcerting. Ralph usually did his best to avoid all contact with residents. Jerk.

At a hair over five feet, he was several inches shorter than me, which gave me a perfect view of the black spray paint he used to cover the bald patch on the top of his head. It was that, or he had a gangrenous skin condition—either way, it was bad news.

“I wanted to check and make sure you guys saw the new panel downstairs. It was installed yesterday.”

“Yeah, actually, I did. It worked like a charm, thanks.” I tried to sound genuine because I did appreciate being able to get into the building, but his odd behavior was throwing me.

“Good, good. Sorry it took so long …” His eyes darted from one of us to the other. “You know, always a lot to juggle in these places.”

“Yeahhh, um. Thanks.” Okay, this was getting seriously weird.

Luke cut in, joining the circle of awkward. “We definitely appreciate it, Ralph. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just headed inside.” He placed a hand at my lower back.

Grateful for the rescue, I shot a hurried wave at Ralph, then jumped back into my apartment, my two friends close on my heel.

“You three have a great day,” Ralph called in his comically heavy Brooklyn accent.

The second the door clicked shut, we burst into a fit of silent giggles, each doubled over with our hands plastered over our mouths.

“What the hell was that?” Luke asked when we regained our composure. “Last time I asked him to get the hallway light bulb replaced, he griped at me for ten minutes about the entitlement of today’s youth—or yute as he calls them.”

“Maybe he found Jesus?” Micky suggested, leading to another round of snickers.

“I don’t care if he started worshipping the seven circles of hell if it means he’ll actually start doing stuff around here,” Luke grumbled.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said, shaking my head. “A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”

Micky shot me a look of incredulity. “Girl, you are the most cynical optimist I’ve ever met.”

I shrugged. “Life is better when you have a good attitude and focus on the positive. That doesn’t mean I can’t smell bull crap when it’s at my feet. I just choose to smile as I walk past it.”

“Amen to that,” Luke said with a grin. “All right, I’ll let you ladies get to your books and laundry. Come get me if you want to grab food later.” “Will do!” we chimed in unison.

Micky and I chatted for a bit about work and the upcoming test she had to take. Hanging out with her always felt so comfortable. I realized as we were talking that I felt more at home here than I had since my parents were alive. It was such a relief to finally allow myself to get close to the people around me.

When I’d moved from Chicago six months earlier, I’d told myself if I made the move to New York, I could settle in permanently. No more moving. It had taken everything I had to leave Chicago, but knowing it would be my last move had given me the incentive I’d needed. I’d let myself stay there a full year—twice as long as I’d stayed anywhere else in the past five years—but I forced myself to start over one last time. I’d known from the beginning that I couldn’t live my life on the run forever. That sort of lifestyle had already taken a toll on me. I was ready for a home and friends and maybe even … a relationship.

The prospect filled me with excitement and dread.

I assured myself that this time I’d find a kind, affectionate man and take things slowly. Someone who was gentle and understanding. Someone the exact opposite of Torin Byrne. He’d gone from brooding to unpredictable— both were potential red flags. I knew better than anyone not to romanticize a dangerous man.

So why on earth did I still find him so alluring?

Did it matter why? He was simply not an option. If I was going to stay in Manhattan, I needed to set boundaries with him so I wouldn’t be forced to leave my home yet again. I had to convince Torin that he needed to let go of whatever interest he might have in me.

An idea started to form.

One of the few things a man like him respected was the territory of another man. Maybe having a boyfriend in the picture was all I needed to defuse the situation, even if that other man was a smokescreen. At the very least, it would help me diagnose how serious the issue was.

A cautious hopefulness filled me with energy. I had a plan, and that gave me a sense of control over this otherwise uncertain situation.

“I better get to the laundromat before all the machines are taken.” Sundays were always busy, but also, I wanted to find out if my plan was feasible.