Battered Not Broken (5 page)

When she exited the locker room and stepped back out into the gym’s sprawling main area – a jungle of hanging bags, mats and the fighting ring in the center of it all – she couldn’t help but be aware of the sound of Moore’s punches landing on a heavy bag. There were a couple other men working heavy bags and one using a speed bag, but somehow, the sound of their gloves hitting vinyl was just noise. Moore created a rhythm as he worked – one that got under Ally’s skin and made it pebble again.

She had to pass the bag he was working to exit the gym. Large, cylindrical and heavier than she was, it hung from the ceiling by steel chains. They didn’t clank or rattle – the bag weighed them down too much to allow that much movement – but they swayed as the bag absorbed blows, a testament to the force it was being subjected to.

Heavy bags were used for developing power – something Moore wasn’t exactly lacking in the first place. It was easy to remember him moving in the ring, his body a mass of muscles that exuded strength – except for those brief moments when he’d seemed to falter.

Her stomach did a funny little twist when she remembered him slowing in the ring and then bracing himself against the outside wall of the gym later that night. But he seemed fine as she rounded the bag, careful to stay far enough away that she wouldn’t be in range of any flying elbows or fists.

She’d just stepped past him when she cast a glance over her shoulder, a twinge of curiosity reminding her of the sprawling design inked across the canvas of his back and the words she’d never been close enough to make out.

It wasn’t his back that she glimpsed as she moved forward, but his face.

He’d turned to face her, filling the field of her vision with his bare torso instead of his back, plus his full lips, a nose with a tiny bead of sweat shining at the tip and of course, blue eyes. “Nice kicks,” he said without preamble.

She’d intended to keep walking after a quick look, but her sneakers might as well have been frozen to the concrete floor. “Thanks. I needed the practice – I telegraphed a kick on Saturday night and lost the match because of it.” The words just sort of spilled out, a confession she might have been better off keeping to herself. After all, he hadn’t been in the audience on Saturday.

She’d half expected him to be. Admission into the fights was free for any Knockout member, and she’d watched him compete the night before. And then he’d asked her on a date. An irrational sense of disappointment had plagued her for just a moment when she’d stepped into the ring and looked out into a crowd that hadn’t included him.

“I heard about it,” he said. “Wish I could’ve been there Saturday night, but I couldn’t make it.”

In a moment of annoyance sparked by his having already heard about her loss, it was impossible not remember his words from Friday night, when he’d said that all his nights were free. Apparently, not the night of her fights. Her thoughts took a surprisingly covetous turn, presenting her with images of him approaching another female member of Friday night’s audience – one who probably would have snapped up his dinner invitation in a heartbeat.

Maybe she would have too, if the past wasn’t always in the back of her mind. Either way, she squashed the thread of curiosity before it could burst into full-blown jealousy. “Maybe next time.”

In the wake of suppressed envy, another thought struck her – what if he hadn’t attended because something had been wrong? What, exactly, she had no idea. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him slowing in the ring and then bracing himself against the building the night before her fights.

“Do you fight every weekend?”

She shook her head. “Cameron only hosts women’s events every other Saturday. But I participate in all of those.”

His eyes were bright as he looked down at her – he had to have at least six inches on her 5’5” frame. “I’ll be there next time.”

She hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to her when she’d promised to attend his fight, or the suggestive smile he’d worn then. For half a moment, a wicked impulse nearly seized her, tempting her to make a similar remark.

The urge faded as a current of excitement swept through her at the idea of him shouting her name, watching her every movement, even if it was just at a competition. “We’ll see,” was all she said, then she was outside, her cheeks being cooled by a cold gust of wind that whistled down the street and past the gym doors.

Chapter 3

The atmosphere at Annalisa’s was casual, the food good but not great, other than the chicken parmesan, which was oddly amazing – the one stand-out item on the dinner menu. More importantly, Annalisa’s was within walking distance of the house and the fact that Melissa would be working there that night guaranteed a warm welcome. Ally had decided to take her mother there shortly after arriving home from the gym earlier that day.

It was less about not having to cook and more about reminding her mother that there was life outside the walls of their little white house, which always seemed so empty on prison visitation days.

Though money was tight, cost was immaterial. Or at least, that was what Ally told herself as she and her mother approached the brick restaurant. She’d lost a match on Saturday, which meant she hadn’t brought home the prize money she’d hoped to land. But there was no amount of money that could ease the pain of watching her mother wander aimlessly around the house, looking as if she still couldn’t believe her husband and son no longer called it home.

“I’d like to request Melissa as our server,” Ally told the hostess who greeted them just inside the door. Melissa’s friendly face might boost her mother’s mood, and Melissa always seemed to like it when they came to see her while she was at work.

“Melissa’s not here,” the hostess said. “Is it all right if Sarah takes care of you instead?”

“Isn’t Melissa scheduled to work from five until closing?” Ally asked, a twinge of concern rippling through her consciousness. Melissa had mentioned having to work just a couple hours ago, when she’d coached Ally’s kicks at the gym.

The girl nodded. “She was scheduled, but she hasn’t come in.”

“That’s not like her.”

The hostess started to agree, but Ally cut her off as a heavy feeling slipped into her gut – a combination of dread and anxiety. “Has anyone heard from her?” Melissa would call if she couldn’t come in to work, even if she was sick, and she’d seemed perfectly healthy that afternoon.

“Not that I know of.” The hostess shifted her weight from one foot to the other and laid down the menus she’d been holding. “I can ask a manager.”

The girl walked toward the back of the restaurant and returned in what seemed like five seconds. “No one’s heard from her yet. Would you like me to go ahead and seat you?”

“Okay.” Ally pulled her phone from her handbag and referred to her recent calls, where Melissa’s number was at the top of the list. She dialed as she and her mother followed the hostess across a floor of cream-colored tile to a familiar corner booth. If Melissa needed anything, they could always leave.

But Melissa didn’t answer.

Ally tried her landline number instead.

Ally’s heart dropped at the sound of the voice that resounded from the other end of the connection. “Hello?”

It was Melissa’s roommate. Not ideal, but still, at least someone had answered. “Hey Steph, it’s Ally. Do you know where Melissa is? She hasn’t shown up for her work shift.”

“She’s not here. I think she left for the gym this morning, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Okay.” Ally’s phone was slightly warm from use and her fingers felt cold against its plastic shell. “Will you give me a call if you see her or hear from her?”

Steph agreed and at her request, Ally promised to do the same.

“Maybe you should call the gym,” Maria suggested. “She might’ve lost track of time.”

It was unlikely, but where else could she call? Maria was sitting close to the corner of her booth seat rather than the center, her shoulders slightly rounded, as if she were expecting a blow. An emotional one, not a physical one – the lines around her mouth made that clear.

Dual threads of alarm wove their way through Ally’s thoughts, for both her mother and Melissa. Instead of calming Maria and helping to distract her from worry, the trip to Annalisa’s was simply compounding her anxiety, adding concern for Melissa to the ever-present burden of fearing for her husband.

“Maybe she’s still working out,” Ally said, dialing Cameron’s office number. “She had to work this past Saturday, but I know she wants to get in top shape for the next event.” Her words sounded hollow to her own ears, but Maria nodded, sitting the tiniest bit straighter.

“Knockout MMA Gym.” After five rings, Cameron’s voice came clipped and faintly gruff from the other end of the connection. He sounded more like he wanted to knock someone’s head off when he spoke on the phone than he ever did face-to-face. He’d mentioned once that he hated talking on the phone, so Ally didn’t take it personally.

“It’s Ally. Hey, is Melissa around?”

“She left almost two hours ago.”

Ally gripped the phone a little more tightly. “Did she say anything about where she was going?”

“She works evenings, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. She didn’t say anything about any other plans or errands?”

“No. Is something wrong?”

“She hasn’t shown up for her shift at work and nobody’s heard from her.” The reality of the situation unfolded inside Ally’s skull, sparking an instant headache that didn’t quite distract her from the knotted feeling in her gut.

Across the table, Maria dropped her shoulders a little lower, frowning down at the wooden table top, a mostly-smooth surface that bore the random scratches and nicks of years of service.

“Shit,” Cameron huffed, sounding angrier than before, “you don’t think something happened to her, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Ally’s ignorance hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Her neighborhood isn’t exactly Roland Park, if you know what I mean.”

“I know.” Ally struggled not to snap, but her reply came out sounding terse anyway. Hearing someone else voice aloud the same thoughts that’d been lurking in the back of her mind seemed to bring the grimmer implications of Melissa’s absence to life.

“Have you tried calling her?”

Cameron’s words had her fighting the urge to plant her forehead against the table top, but she didn’t hang up. If she did that, she’d truly have exhausted the short list of people she could call about Melissa, and then there would be nothing to do but wait. “That was the first thing I did.”

“You know what? Moore left around the same time as Melissa. Maybe he saw where she was headed.”

“The new guy?” Ally’s stomach drew even tighter, a knotted battleground for conflicting emotions – the brief bout of nervous excitement when she thought of his blue eyes and inked back, plus a flood of darker emotions like suspicion and dread. “Did they leave together?”

“No, not together. He walked out the door a couple minutes after she did. He mighta seen what direction she went in. Maybe he even spoke to her. Or maybe not, but it’s the only thing I can think of that might help.”

It didn’t help to ease the tension in Ally’s middle. Her stomach felt like a snake pit. Each new direction her increasingly dark thoughts took amped up her worry. Melissa had left the gym on foot and the new guy – Moore – had walked out the door just minutes after her. He was bigger, stronger and more dangerous than Melissa – that was for sure. Before, Ally had admired the way his powerful body moved in the ring. Now, it was impossible not to think about the atrocities his size, muscle and training would allow him to commit with ease on the street.