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“Back off, Z-man.” I throw the yellow blanket off me and swing my legs off the bed, hunching over. “I don’t need to take it easy.”
“You.” In two strides he’s in front of me and in my face. “If your medication is not good we’ll see about changing it. But you will rest and take your time because I’m not losing another brother, fucker.” He jabs a finger at me. “You hear me?”
Fear is stark in his eyes and I can only nod meekly. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
“Where’s Audrey?”
“She went out with the others to get some ice-cream.”
“And you stayed behind to babysit me, huh?”
“Damn right. Nothing wrong with that.”
It still irks me, but I understand why. “I’m fine. Go have ice-cream or whatever it is you wanna do. I’ll be okay on my own.”
He hesitates. “You sure?”
Huh. For Zane to even consider my proposal, it means he’s dying to go. “Yeah, man.” An idea hits me. “That Dakota chick... You dig her, right?”
Zane shuffles his feet and his mouth tightens. “None of your business.”
“Seriously, man? I bet you’re dying to see her licking ice-cream off the cone, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you, Ash.”
I grin because I know I have him. “Go. I said I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Motherfucker.” Zane gives me the finger and turns to go, but not before I see the flash of relief in his eyes—because I seem better or because he’ll go see Dakota do obscene things to her ice-cream cone, I’m not sure.
Knowing Zane, probably both.
I hear the door click behind him and I frown. The sense of danger from the nightmare lingers. What am I missing?
Then it hits me, knocking the air from my lungs. Not just a dream. The fight club. Will they come for me again once they realize I’m still alive? Will they come for Audrey? I’ve put her life in jeopardy.
What can I do? I fist my hands in my short hair and groan. Going to the police about my attackers can only make things worse. They’re mafia. They’ll know, and any chance of making it out of this mess alive will be over.
No, that would mean putting Audrey into even more danger. Audrey and Zane and everyone who cares about me.
Okay, Ash, think.
I have to talk to Johnny, ask what he wants to leave my friends alone, go down on my knees if needed. In my mind, it’s the least I can do in return for all they’ve done for me.
***
New Year’s Day. A brand new year, a brand new start.
It all sounds sarcastic in my head, so I try to focus on the street I’m crossing. I felt as close to okay as possible when I left Audrey’s apartment, but now I feel as if I’ve run a marathon. Sweat drips from my face, despite the cold, and I have to stop and rest, braced on a building wall. My head spins.
No matter. I have to do this. It’s too important a task to fail because I feel like roadkill.
Today’s the fight tournament in The Bulldog. I count on that to find Johnny. Getting a chance to talk to him without a repeat of last time—that is, without him sending his goons to kill me—will be tricky, and my aching head isn’t exactly a fountain of original ideas.
By the time I approach the club, I’ve decided what to do. I lurk outside a cafe nearby, pretending to check messages on my cell, leaning on a gnarled tree trunk. God, it’s cold.
Minutes pass. I keep an eye out for anyone approaching the club and clench my jaw to keep my teeth from rattli
