Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)(89)

Fueled by desperation and adrenaline alone, rational thought left me. I would not f*cking fail Liv James—no matter the cost to myself.

Yanking on the glass door, I found it locked. My chest heaved as I prepared to bust it down. But I paused when I saw Liv scrambling away with Davenport hot on her heels. Frantically, I banged on the door, trying to catch his attention, but then everything suddenly got worse.

In that moment, I didn’t even know that was possible.

But it was my life. It could always get worse.

The only person I could ever hate as much as Garrett Davenport suddenly appeared in front of me with his gun held high, aimed directly at my chest.

The moment his blue eyes met mine, his face softened.

Get back, he mouthed.

I couldn’t do anything but blink.

Swinging his gun away, he lifted a single hand and signed, I’ll get her.

I had been wrong.

That was unquestionably the scariest moment of my entire life.

“Dad!” I screamed, pounding my fists on the glass as he disappeared down the hall.





I had been a lot of things in life: thief, con man, gambling addict, drug dealer, bookie, inmate. Most recently, I was the assistant to the director for the American Sign Language program at the local community center.

It was a job I took very seriously.

If you asked my kids, they would probably add a few other names to my laundry list of titles, such as: spineless, slimeball, coward, deadbeat, worthless, loser.

And they’d be right.

Over the years, I had more than earned every single one of those. However, that didn’t change the fact that, over ten years later, the only title I truly wanted was father.

And it was the only one they would never give back to me.

And they’d be right for that too.

I’d spent years watching my kids grow up and start their own families through the pages of sports magazines. After the shit I’d put them through, I didn’t even deserve that. But I was lucky enough to have donated sperm to create some amazing men. I’d followed Till closely as he’d grown up, selflessly giving back to not only the community, but the boys I’d abandoned when I’d lost myself in a life of drugs and gambling. I’d watched my weak and premature baby boy Quarry grow into one of the toughest fighters to ever step through the ropes. Flint had been harder to track, but a life of crime had some benefits. I’d called in some favors, and I had been able to get enough info to find myself in the audience the day he’d crossed the stage to get his college diploma. I hadn’t even graduated high school, and there he was, paralyzed, relearning how to walk, and still graduating with honors in only two years.

And Eliza had been right all those years ago when we’d first met in Las Vegas—I had not one thing to do with any of it.

Those boys had forged their own path through life and come out the other end stronger than I could have ever imagined.

I was a loser.

I was spineless.

I was a deadbeat.

But I still missed them more than words could ever express.

So, when I caught wind that Quarry’s long-time girlfriend had put an ad in the newspaper looking for an ASL assistant, I jumped at the opportunity. That first meeting, I went in guarded, unsure if she’d recognize me. But I should have known my boys wouldn’t have photos of dear old dad lining the walls of their new multimillion-dollar mansions. If they were as smart as I thought they were, any evidence of me had gone up in smoke years earlier.

After I got the job, I fell in love with Liv. It was easy to see why Quarry loved her like he did. I didn’t get to see her often, but on the days I did, she’d fill me in on what was happening in the boys’ lives. She loved the Page brothers so much that it didn’t take but a single question before she’d whip her phone out and show me countless pictures of my grandkids. I never would have gotten that without her. It was well worth the rest of the bullshit of grading papers and tutoring the adults.

And, right then, I was pissed all to Hell and back that Garrett Davenport had just cost me all of it. I’d been gone for the last month to avoid having my identity exposed after his first stunt. Now this? Fucking *.

I’d cleaned up my life a good bit, but I still had warrants out for my arrest and a pretty f*cking substantial gambling debt, not even to mention the unregistered—and probably stolen—gun I had just fired in front of half of the Indy police force. There was no way I was making it out of that building without a pair of cuffs, but before I went in for my extended stay at the big house, I was finally going to do something right for my boys.

“Garrett!” I yelled, following the path of lights that had been triggered by motion sensors.

The creaks from the soles of my shoes against the tile were the only noise in the building. Even Quarry’s shouts from the front door had fallen quiet. I jerked every door open as I slowly made it down the hall. Davenport was nowhere to be found. And, if I could just find Liv, I could let the cops in to clean up the piece of garbage. But I didn’t trust that that mental case wouldn’t hurt her when a million uniforms rushed into the building.

I’d shot him in the leg when he’d lifted that knife to her throat. He wouldn’t find himself lucky again. I was aiming a little higher this time.

“Oh, Davenport!” I singsonged down the hall.

After I’d snatched the door to the supply closet open, I caught sight of Liv. I could barely make out her silhouette through the darkness, but from what I could tell, she was folded into a ball with her head on her knees. She didn’t look up as I jerked the door wide. It was for the best though. It meant she didn’t see when Davenport appeared out of nowhere and tackled me to the ground.