Chapter 42

MELODY

The second reportfrom John Levine arrives in my inbox in the evening, an hour or so after parking my car in a private garage and walking to my apartment, haunted by what I've witnessed in Queens.

According to the report, Jax London worked as a bodyguard for Marco Costa before becoming a business partner and running a part of the company.

That's not all.

He's also a participant in the underground fighting circuit organized by Marco Costa.

Isn't that a conflict of interest?

Probably not.

"Maybe a business partnership forged inbloodis the best," I murmur, studying a few pictures snapped at a boxing match, and a video recording.

My mouth falls open as I look at the man fighting with his knuckles wrapped, his boxers moving smoothly around his muscular thighs, and his skin glistening with sweat.

I don't see an ounce of the playful, tender, sexy troublemaker I had the pleasure to meet and play with.

Just a man on a mission, whatever that may be. Taking his opponent down, making money, or both.

And no, what he does has nothing to do with me.

What happened between us was me being me while running into him, self-absorbed and consumed with my issues.

Luckily, I've grown out of that phase, so there's a benefit to it.

I swipe my thumb over my phone and call John Levine.

"Melody Hill, here," I say when he greets me at the other end of the line. "I appreciate the expediency. Is there any chance I could go to one of the boxing matches?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. It's not a pleasant environment,"hesays in a cautious tone. "I can send someone in to gather more information."

"Where did you get the pictures?"

"I don't know the exact location. I can find that out for you, but I still don't recommend going there."

"Are these boxing matches exclusively for men?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"I understand what you're saying, Mr. Levine, and I'lltake that into consideration. However, I'd still want the address."

"Understood. I'll send it to you."

We end the call, and minutes later, my phone beeps with an alert.

I checked the message, and I'm in luck.

There's a boxing match tonight in the Bronx.

MELODY

My ideaof not getting noticed while sneaking into the old boxing gym after bribing the man at the entrance––I'm getting good at this––and lying that I was looking for my long–lost cousin––the man couldn't care less if I said I was looking for my birth mother––is wearing a tracksuit made of luxuriously soft and lightweight fabric with a wide-leg pant and a hoodie.

My hair is tucked neatly inside a cap, and I would wear sunglasses if it didn't make me look suspicious and out of place.

I don't belong, for sure, although I'm not the only woman in the loud, crowded space reeking of sweat and testosterone.

To avoid getting elbowed and pushed to the side, I trail closer to the wall and find a spot next to the boxing ring, nothaving a cluewhat is going on.

The barking men and the noisy women cheering them on make me hyperventilate.

Perhaps this isn'tsucha great idea, but I stay put now that I'm here.

Several matches unfold simultaneouslytothe crowd's delight while I'm frozen in a corner.

I'm not a sports person––I've never been––and although the sight of blood doesn't necessarily make me queasy, I can't say I'll become a fan anytime soon.

The jabs are brutal, and the thought of seeing him here makes me weak in my knees.

An hour passes without a glimpse of him. Maybe he's not a participant, or something has come up and prevented him from being here.

The young woman attending his sister's birthday comes to mind, and Iget a bad feelingabout that.

And then something else happens.

As painful as it is, realizing that I have no place in this man's life pushes me to the brink of desperation.

What am I doing here?

He said what he said, but maybe there was a reason I didn't respond to him the way he expected me to.

Maybe I knew better than him.

He and that young brunette would have everything if they were a couple. A house, kids, and families nearby.

It's a good life if you ask me. I lived that life before I started searching for a man.

Jax was a fluke in a long line of predictable men, and maybe that's my fate. No man at all.

With my mind made up, I push off the wall and spin around when I get swallowed by the crowd and dragged closer to the boxing ring.

I struggle to remove myself from the river of people, my arms flailing like I'm swimming upstream when a hand curls forcefully around my shoulder and yanks me away.

Taking small, quick steps, I walk backward, unable to see the person pulling me out of the room.

We enter a dark corridor, and I stop, firmly planting my feet down and refusing to move.

I open my mouth to protest, but he's faster than I am.

"What are you doing here, Melody?" Jax asks, his voice strained, his eyes beaming with fire.

"What?? Am I banned from seeing a match?"

"Who told you about this place?" he barks, seething with fury.

Oh… Okay.

This doesn't even have to do with us.

Is he afraid I might talk about his shady business? He thinks I'm a rat? Or is he with someone else already?

A wave of fury sweeps through me as I finger his chest. He wears a suit and a dress shirt like he's some kind of boss, and despite how blindsided I am by my irrational anger, it's impossible not to notice that he smells like he's about to go out, hitting a club.

And now I begin to wonder… Who is Jax London, after all?

Is he the troublemaker?

The shrewd businessman?

The playful character?

The family man?

Or all of the above?

"Listen to me, Jax London," I say through locked teeth. "Just because you caught me with my pants down doesn't mean I can no longer do whatever the hell I want."

He slowly slides his hands into his pockets like he has grenades in his pants that are about to go off, his eyes carefully pinned on me.

"Do you want to know how I got here?" I say, and he slowly nods.

His eyes glint like dark ice, and his lips almost move into a smile, yet they starkly disagree with his expression.

The impression is fleeting, and my gazegoes backto his eyes as my finger pokes at his chest.

"I hired a PI."

A derisive, incredulous look slides over his face.

"You… what?? You've stooped so low? You couldn't talk to me?"

He seems so hurt all of a sudden.

"You're not exactly answering your phone, are you? And then, what was I supposed to tell you after our last conversation? You looked at me like I was the biggest disappointment of your life."

"You were. Not the biggest one, but you were. I couldn't believe you so stubbornly had stuck to your beliefs."

"You weren't exactly truthful to ease my apprehension."

He lifts an eyebrow.

"Wasn't I?"

I take a long breath before I speak.

"I was parked on your street this afternoon and saw everything. You and your brother––who looks awfully familiar, I have to say––and then a pretty brunette with no air in her lungs when you looked in her direction."

The reference to his brother raises his eyebrows again, and I have this feeling that he knows what I'm talking about.

What am I talking about?

Yes. Noah. His brother. I've seen that kid before. I can't place him, but the more I think about him, the more I wonder… Is it really inconceivable that his brother followed me?

His eyes gleam, but his lips stay sealed, strangely giving him away.

He's done the exact same thing he's accusing me of.

"You…" I murmur, out of breath. "You followed me. Didn't you? I saw your brother before."

He presses his lips together, not letting out much.

"Tell me, Jax."

"There's nothing to tell. I warned you I'd be doing it."

"Why are you so offended then?"

He huffs with a shred of dismay.

"Because that's not who you are."

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

A few moments pass.

"It no longer matters," I go on. "But it was justifiable in your case and demeaning in mine?"

A second flies by.

"Do you really want to know why I did it?" I ask.

"I'm dying to hear all about it," he says, pulling his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You got my attention when you proved so right about my life.Youwant to know the truth? I knew those men were bad. Did I know about their hookers? No, I didn't. I wasn't so interested in them to hire a PI and follow them around. Regardless, the signs were there… And yes, you can say I was complacent and lazy and preferred to see a shrink. I did it because I didn't want to face reality. My mistake was that I lingered. The problem was I didn't know what the alternative was."

I flick my hand up.

"Before you scoff," I say, although he remains frozen. "I couldn't grasp who you were from only a few encounters. Was I wrong? Yes, I was. Could you have been good for me? I had no way of knowing."

A dark chuckle rolls off his lips.

"We're wasting our time, Mel," he says, and I feel like the floors are sinking.

His voice moves so tenderly over my name while his words dishearten me.

"Then, why do you care that I'm here?"

"This is not a place for a woman like you," he says, uncrossing his arms and grabbing my forearm to drag me down the corridor and out of the establishment.

I yank my arm out of his grip.

"No need to be condescending. I can find my way out. Go back to your life and your perfect woman. And by the way, you shouldn't have bothered to open my eyes. After a few more years and more money going down the drain, I would've reached that conclusion myself and stopped. See…" I say, turning to him, my voice shaky with emotion. "It doesn't matter how men do it. Whether they hire hookers behind your back or punish you because you've made a mistake, the outcome is the same."

I look deep into his eyes.

They seem glazed with tears like mine.

"You've made me feel so cheap," I murmur. "And it all took a turn for the worse when I learned about your life and felt the prick of envy. Do you really think we could've had a conversation like this like two normal people? I don't think so. My perception was skewed, and I didn't know what you meant when you claimed you wanted me to be yours. You being out of reach changed all that. At one point, I blamed you for not knowing what you wanted. I still think you didn't know whether you wanted me for real. I was a woman who caught your eye, and for whatever reason, you wanted me. Maybe it was sexual attraction. I think it was. And then you told me what I wanted to hear…"

I let out a chuckle, brimming with sadness.

"And you were so damn right, weren't you?" I go on, tasting a salty tear on my lips. "You got the gist of me when you saw me the first time. Any man with basic knowledge about women could put two and two together. I wasn't seeing Aretha Stenson because my love life was great. You grasped that quickly. And what better way to mess with someone's head than giving them something resembling what they want. You knew the odds were stacked against us, but you thought that hammering out a compromise while talking about the same idea over and over again would eventually make a difference. You wanted to have me. You had me. But I couldn't believe the rest of it. And I still can't. I'm at a crossroads, Jax, and I don't knowwhich wayto go. You may see things I don't see, but that's not how it works. I need to see them myself. I couldn't sleep after you left that night. And I still can't. I want you more than anything else, but you see…" I say, smiling bitterly. "That is precisely the thing. I can't pull you into my chaos. No one has that much to give. Not even you."

A lump forms in my throat and I stubbornly push it down, but it still threatens to stir up a storm of feelings.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice hoarse. "I really am. I wish things could've worked between us somehow."

He softens his stance, erases the space between us, and brings his hand to my head.

He slowly removes the cap before lightly brushing my hair over my shoulder and touching my cheek.

"What makes you think things can't work out between us now?" he asks quietly, gently stroking my face.

"I just told you. Besides, what you said that night made me feel small."

"It wasn't my intention to hurt you in any way, but I was exasperated by how unable you were to see us. You had let all those men around you because of what? An article in a fancy magazine? Your therapist? Or did you really think you were protected with them?"

I blink, and a smile tugs at his lips.

"You thought they were safe?" he asks, and I nod.

"They were the opposite of safe, baby."

"I know that. Let's not talk aboutthemanymore."

"All right,' he says, resting his hand on my neck and looking down.

"Why did you ask for a different therapist?" I murmur.

He slings his gaze to me, a smile on his lips.

"Isn't it obvious?" he says quietly.

"Me?"

"Yes…" He looks down again. "You thought you felt small? Have you ever considered how you made me feel when you thought I was too young and not good enough for you?"

"Yes, I have. That's why I'm here." I study his face, waiting for his eyes to come to me. "And that's why I wanted to know everything about you and your life. Watching you in front of your mother's house made me feel like I was a part of you. And it was a good feeling. Refreshing, it was a teaching moment. I wanted to be there with you. Talk to your mom and meet Noah and Rylee."

He smiles bittersweetly.

"It's strange hearing me talk about them, isn't it?" I say.

"A little."

Absently moving his thumb across my jawline, he ponders my words.

"What else did you learn about me?"

"That something happened in prison, and your life has been different since you got released."

He nods in acknowledgment before peering down again, thinking about something.

"We'll do this," he says, checking the time on his watch before looking at me. "Someone will take you to my place. You wait there. Make yourself comfortable. I'll bring food and drinks. We'll talk it out, okay?" he says. "I need to go now."

He takes my hand and walks me to the back of the building, reaching inside his pocket for his phone.

"Itake ityou won't be upset if you're not seeing the rest of the boxing matches."

"Correct," I say, trying to keep up with him.

He's on the phone before pushing a door open. His car enters my view, the engine running, someone already behind the wheel.

I stop and look at Jax.

"Uh… Did you have this ready for me, or, um…?"

He opens the door for me.

"My brother is helping me out. No, I didn't think you'd show up," he says, but something tells me that's not true.

He makes the introductions while Noah flashes a smile.

"You take her to my place. Call me if you need me," Jax says, and his brother's eyes glimmer with unspoken admiration.

"Sure. No problem."

"Be safe," Jax says, watching me get settled.

I give him a small wave, missing himalready,before shifting my eyes to Noah.

He sets Jax's car in motion with great care as if transporting the most precious cargo in the world.