I don’t blame my brother for his protective nature. Ever since Ezra got out of prison eight years ago, he’s been different. It’s like he’s seen the worst of the worst, and it’s all he can see now. It kills me to think of what it did to him, so I try to ease his worries when I can.

“If I learn some self-defense moves will you feel better?”

“Knowing how to throw a punch won’t stop someone like a 9-mil.”

We’re not having this conversation. Not again. “My apartment is safe, well-lit, and I’ve seen a cop car parked out front a lot, so I think there’s an officer living in the building. I’m not worried, and you shouldn’t be either.”

“Because cops are so trustworthy.”

I pause. That was a stupid thing to bring up, and I should know better. Ezra hates cops...well one in particular, but it’s a can of worms I hate to even open.

Before he can start on his tirade, I blurt out, “Ez, I’m at the store getting stuff for dinner. I gotta run.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Get home before dark.”

I say my goodbyes and hang up before he can drone on anymore. Without another thought in my mind, I pick up the ingredients for the only dinner I’ll be having tonight: cheese, crackers, and wine. Then I hurry home because I have a date with my couch.

Chapter Two

Rafe

I can’t drive home. That’s for fucking sure. I can’t see out of my right eye, and the bottle of vodka we opened after my big win didn’t help. But at least I won. I got my ass kicked pretty hard, but a win’s a win.

The gym is out by the railroad tracks, about twenty minutes from my apartment. The location sucks for actual business, but Vic has enough regular clientele—not to mention the under the table profits he makes, he doesn’t struggle to stay open.

Dammit, the lights on the road are blinding.

The ride is silent as I sit in the passenger side of my own car with Vic behind the wheel. Shannon is following us in her car to take him back.

“You’re too good to me,” I groan as he pulls into the parking lot of my condo complex.

“Are you kidding?” He laughs. “You made me so much fucking money tonight.”

“I didn’t hear that,” I grumble as I practically fall out of my car.

“Is he okay?” Shannon calls through the window of her car.

“I’m fine,” I answer. “I just can’t see through this pretty shiner.” I toss her a charming smile that she rolls her eyes at and shakes her head. I try to conceal the way the ground tilts under my feet as they pull away.

That left hook hit my skull harder than I thought. How many untreated concussions can you get before it becomes a problem? I have a feeling it’s not many.