Reese

ChapterThree

Ispin the key around my finger, wondering if this is the right play to make, but I’m not exactly swimming in options.

I don’t come here often anymore. When I do, it’s in the early hours of the morning to avoid seeing anyone from my old haunt. But following this trail requires stepping out of the shadows and slipping on my alter ego once more.

I squeeze my hand closed and grab my bag, heading out now before traffic gets too bad. Shoving my helmet on my head, I opt to take my motorcycle while the weather is nice.

When I pull up at the gym, I swing around to the private parking lot at the back and park next to a tricked-out black truck. Taking a deep breath, I climb off my bike and keep my helmet on as I use my key to let myself in the staff entrance.

Nobody is around, so I make my way toward Hank’s office to give him a heads-up. When raised voices catch my attention, I hesitate, wondering if I should come back. But when I hear what they are arguing about, I decide fuck it. I should never have asked him to keep my secrets.

“Listen, Mike. I know you have it in your head that this place will one day be yours, but that’s just not going to happen. You have no interest in running a gym,” Hanks hisses, sounding tired, like this conversation has been had a hundred times already.

“You don’t need to worry about that. You should be at home relaxing,” the other voice replies, dropping an octave. I think they are trying to pretend they are concerned, but it just sounds condescending. At least to me.

“When have I ever been the kind of man to relax? I’d be bored to tears,” Hank retorts with a snort.

“Well, maybe if you’d tried harder, Mom wouldn’t have left you.”

Ah, now I know who the sniveling bastard is.

“Well, considering I worked more hours than God, and still, it wasn’t enough to keep her in designer shoes, I doubt it. Less work meant less money, after all.”

“Just think about it. I could turn this place into—”

I step into the room and cut him off so I don’t have to listen to his whiny voice.

“Nothing. You’d burn it to the ground at the first check a developer waved at you.”

His head snaps around to look at me, but he’s not quick enough to mask the shocked, guilty look in his eyes.

“Ah, they already approached you. And instead of telling them this place isn’t yours, you came up with a plan to get it.” I lean over him. “Over my dead body.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he snaps. Hank leans back in his chair, letting me take the lead.

Unclipping the strap of my helmet, I tug it free and shake out my hair. His mouth drops open as I smirk and walk over to kiss Hank’s weathered cheek.

“I’m the owner.”

“What?” He looks between me and his father for a minute before his jaw ticks, and his hands grip the edge of his chair.

“Your mother cleaned me out during the divorce. This place was going under. I reached out to you and you told me you weren’t interested in a backstreet gym, remember?” Hank raises his brow as his dickhead son squirms.

“That was then. This is now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, back then he needed you, now he doesn’t.”

Turning to face Hank, I see him look up at me with worry in his eyes.

“I missed you, kid, but why do I get the feeling you coming out of the shadows isn’t necessarily a good thing?”

“Because you were always far too perceptive.” I grin.

That annoying voice interrupts us again. “Sell it to me. I doubt this place holds any interest to someone like you.”

I turn slowly to look at the spoiled little man-child.

“Are you still here?”