She blinked at the spot where he had just been, her mouth slightly open, as she tried to figure out what she was feeling. The tough-guy persona she normally saw had just cracked open before her and allowed her the quickest peek at the man inside. She felt like that stray dog on the side of the street, eager for any crumb that he would give her.

I do not want to date Rory Kavanagh.

She bit her lip as she turned and continued up the stairs, trying to remind herself that she had not moved to New York to jump into a relationship with anyone. After her ex-boyfriend, she didn’t think she ever could again. Definitely not anytime soon. At least that’s what she had thought until tonight, when the boundaries she had walled up around her began to blur.

I do not want to date Rory Kavanagh.

Chapter 5

“Rory, show him the leg lock. He’s all over the place,” Seamus ordered from the side of the ring where he and Ace were watching Rory and Kane square off, part of Kane’s training at Legends.

“He isn’t ready, Pop. He hasn’t got a simple mount perfected yet,” Rory responded, trying to ignore his father.

He knew his father had been a famous boxer and had valuable insight, but his expectations for his sons had always been too high. Rory hadn’t even wanted to train Kane or be back at Legends in the first place, but if he was going to do this, he damn sure wasn’t about to take directions when he was the only one in the room who was a world-class expert in it.

“What the hell do you mean I’m not ready? The mount doesn’t have to be fucking perfect, Rory. Shit, I’ve been mounting things since I was fifteen behind the bleachers at school.” Kane needled him further.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Kane. Everything is a damn joke to you. If you want to be the best, it has to be perfect.” Rory dropped his hands and glared at his brother, not hiding his irritation.

Seamus interrupted them. “Just show him the leg lock; you can go back to the mount later.”

“Pop, seriously? Would you rather train him?” Rory marched over to the side of the ring, approaching his father.

Seamus sighed. “Damn, kid, do you always have to be in charge?”

“Fine, you be in charge.” Rory yanked the wraps off his hands and wrists, dropping them onto the ring floor, and then climbed out.

Sliding past his father, Rory decided he was done for the day. He really couldn’t stand being told what to do, and he didn’t even want to be back in a ring.

He heard Kane calling after him, but tuned it out entirely. Reaching the front door of the club, he punched it hard, almost knocking it off its hinges when it flew open. He paused for a second and grabbed the door, keeping it open a second longer to make sure it didn’t hit Ace, who was close on his heels.

He needed out of there. It was time for a change.

—

Rory left Legends and headed home, his only thought on the pain radiating up his leg. He had forgotten to bring pills with him to the gym, so he was glad to be headed home early since his knee was throbbing from several hours of working out with Kane.

His fists were also aching from nearly breaking the door, but he enjoyed that feeling. He loved the pain he felt in his hands from destroying something, although normally he preferred it being someone’s face instead of a metal door. He couldn’t change that he was a fighter to his very core.

His apartment was off East 235th Street, still in the Woodlawn neighborhood of the Bronx and only a few short blocks away, but the trek seemed to be taking forever as he cringed with each step. The more he concentrated on the pain, the worse his knee felt. Relief washed through him as he saw O’Hara’s Liquor coming up on the right. Checking his watch, he saw it was almost ten in the morning, so the store was probably open.

“Rory, first customer of the morning! And Ace, hi, boy. The usual?” Charlie O’Hara surveyed his best customer from behind the counter and pulled a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind him.

“Yep, thanks, Charlie.” Rory pulled his wallet out of his pocket, separating out a few bills and handing them over.

“Anytime, Rory. How’s the leg feeling?” Charlie asked as he leaned over the counter to smile at Ace, the same pity on his face that Rory had always hated seeing anytime someone mentioned his injury.

“Same as always.” He held up the whiskey bottle, indicating the state of his knee. Charlie just nodded as Rory left with the whiskey in a brown paper bag.

Rory continued home, but twisted off the top of the bottle and held it up to his lips. The burning liquid slid down his throat and the brown paper bag rustled from the movement. He screwed the cap back on, enjoying the warm sensation in his stomach that he knew would soon distract him from the pain in his leg.

Rory and Ace entered his apartment and Rory headed straight to his nightstand, pulling out three miraculous white pills and swallowing them. He chased them with several more swigs of whiskey, then plopped onto the bed face-first, bottle still in his hand. He closed his eyes, savoring the numbing feeling as he drifted off to sleep.

—

Rory grunted in pain as he lifted his head off the bed. He sat up and noticed the bottle of whiskey lying on his bed; it was almost entirely empty, except for a few sips at the bottom. He vaguely remembered waking up a few times during his nap to use the bathroom and get some food, drinking more and more each time. Figuring he shouldn’t waste good liquor, he unscrewed the top and finished it off as he stood, stepped over his sleeping dog, and pulled open the curtains in his bedroom.

He instantly regretted it. The bright sunshine smashed against his face, blinding him and reminding him that the world had kept turning despite his angry mood. Stepping back, he tossed the bottle into a nearby trash can and swayed over to his large walk-in closet. He stripped, pulling on a fresh pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, then headed to his home gym on the opposite side of his apartment.

About a year ago, he had purchased the other three apartments on the top floor of the four-story walk-up. Knocking down several walls, he had transformed it into one large penthouse with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a den, an office, and a gym, plus the usual kitchen, living room, and dining room. While he might not be a professional fighter anymore, he still enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle, thanks to the money he had earned during his career.

The gym was his favorite part of the renovation, having been equipped specifically with weights, machines, and other training equipment per his physical therapist’s instructions. He didn’t use it often since he was at Legends so much, but today he was itching to hit the punching bag alone.

With every step he took since waking up, he could feel the pulse in his leg like a serrated knife sliding back and forth slowly against his calf muscle. Grinding his teeth, he pushed through it for several hours as he punished the bag with his fists, forcing away the fog that had fallen over him after drinking so much.

With everything he had in him, he tried to delay taking more pills to dull the ache that was turning into full-blown thunder slamming through his body, but the hours began to wear on him. He tried distracting himself by taking Ace out on a few walks around the neighborhood, but he couldn’t pull his mind away from what he really wanted.

By the evening, Rory resorted to a few pills with a couple bottles of beer that he found hiding in the back of his fridge. When all was said and done, he opened his curtains again to find that it was pitch black outside except for a few streetlights illuminating the road.