“Get out!” I roared, and whirled to face my window, trying to rein in my temper.

“I quit!”

“Good! I went to jail for you, Camper. We’ve been doing this on-again/off-again bullshit for too long. I know I’m no saint, but for Christ’s sake, I’m sick of you letting any muscle-head dip his cock in you, and then I have to pick up the pieces. And yeah, you had no fucking right to make fun of the lawyer. She was there in jail with me, and you weren’t.” Slamming my hand on the desk, I finished with, “I’ll consider this your notice. Don’t report back. I’ll be happy to give you a decent recommendation. You did do a good job when it came to marketing.”

“Jake,” she said on a whimper, her eyes welling with tears.

“One piece of advice, Camp. Don’t fuck your next boss.”

And just like that, I needed a new marketing person for my two currently up-and-running gyms and the third on the way. I was fucked.

I grunted, lifting the weight bar and catapulting the heavy piece of shit over my head.

“Ten,” Anthony shouted from the corner. “Two more, baby doll, and then you can take a rest.”

I slammed the weights down on the rack. “Shut the eff up, Tony. I’m still your boss. Don’t you have any clients coming in?”

“Nah. They’re lunching. You know I only train the pretty ladies, and my girls do lunch . . . or salads . . . or their husband’s partners. Whatever it is they do, they do it at lunchtime.” The son of a bitch winked at me before walking away.

Oomph. I lifted the bar again. I couldn’t get any work done after Camper left, so I decided to lift and clear my head. It wasn’t working.

The gym was getting crowded with the lunchtime rush. Our location bordering several colleges, the medical center, and close to downtown combined with our high-end locker rooms made us popular with professors, doctors, and lawyers looking for a midday workout.

This was my cue to get to work. I didn’t like to take up equipment when there were paying customers waiting. I hit the main locker room quickly, stripping down in front of my general locker before sauntering off buck naked to the shower. Hey, I owned a gym and had been working on my body long before that. I was stacked, and I knew it. Plus, I needed to make sure the facilities were all being maintained; no better way than to use them myself.

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waist, I heard Billy from the front bringing someone on a tour.

“This is the general locker area complete with extra-wide showers and a changing area. In the back, we have a VIP locker area where there’s a steam and sauna, whirlpool, rainfall showers, and an attendant.”

“That sounds about like what I’m looking for,” the dude answered him as I rounded the corner. “I’ll be in town two or three times a week meeting with clients and interns, researching a case, so jumping in here at lunch is perfect.”

I made a quick escape to my locker to toss on my clothes, but not without grabbing a better look at the prospective member. He looked so familiar, and I was still trying to place him when I headed back into the gym. Billy was waving a hand, pointing out all the equipment options as he sold my hard work. I’d built this brand, and yeah, I fucked up more often than not, but it was coming along.

As I sneaked a quick glance at my watch, I remembered who the hell the jerk was. He was the guy with the lawyer. My lawyer, Alyson Road. Legs. I hadn’t been able to get that redheaded siren out of my head for days. I chalked it up to it being Christmas and I’d been lonely, but Christ, if she wasn’t on my mind. I’d beat off close to a dozen times to my memory of her and those long legs. Girl was a ball-buster in that interrogation room, but she was so different when I ran into her at the restaurant. Shy, almost timid, but you could see her intelligence. It shone through like a bright light.

I’m becoming a full-on sap.

She had let me off the hook that night. Pretty sure anyone else would have made me sit in jail while they enjoyed their holiday. Not that one, though. I’d thought about that more than I’d whacked off to her.

She’s a good person.

Well, she obviously had a boyfriend and he was about to be a client of mine, so I mentally scrubbed her out of my brain. I’d stopped fucking other guys’ girls a year ago. The whole Camper thing was a stupid mistake, a clusterfuck, and I needed to make some improvements in general about who I slept with. Period.

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone vibrating in my jeans. When I plucked it out of my back pocket and saw who was calling, I mumbled, “Fuck this day,” under my breath.

As I connected the call, I didn’t bother with hello or any other formalities. “Doc, sorry, I got distracted with work. Shit! I’m coming now.”

“Jake, I don’t reserve a whole day for you.”

“I know, I know,” I said as I headed toward the back exit. “Come on, Doc. I’ve had a super shitty day. Can you go a little easy on me?” I asked, shamelessly flirting with my shrink.

“Jake, don’t try that with me. You’re in luck today. You were before my scheduled lunch, so we can push your appointment a bit. Next time, I won’t go easy.” She didn’t chuckle. I knew she wasn’t lying. She was one tough bitch.

“I’m getting in my car. On my way.” I slid my finger across the END CALL button and started up the Bimmer, not the least bit interested in enjoying this day now.

I was five minutes away from my shrink’s office. Dr. Wells had been my psychiatrist ever since Lane and I had a come-to-Jesus meeting and finally sat down to discuss what had happened when our parents died—and who was really responsible. Both Lane and I had let our own guilt affect our lives since our parents died, but we were only children at the time. It took some soul-searching on both my part and Lane’s to come to the conclusion that we weren’t at fault in our parents’ deaths. It was Shirley, our negligent drunken babysitter, who was responsible.

Stubborn and reckless, I’d gone on a one-man mission to bring Shirley down. I’d sort of lost it for a while, chasing and berating the woman who’d ruined our family.

Of course, when Bess caught wind of what I was doing, she went into action. Bess had just moved to Florida to live with my twin brother and was surprised to learn she was pregnant. A day or two after this, Shirley had called her, trying to make amends with what was left of our family, and Bess hadn’t wanted to hear from her—ever. Hearing from that awful woman was like drinking a bad cocktail on an empty stomach.

I remembered when it happened.

My phone had rung as I’d been finishing up a run and was cooling down as I walked through some graffiti-lined alley, lost deep in my muddled brain.

“Hello,” I’d said, panting a little as I got my breath back.

“Jake! How could you?” Bess screeched through the phone.

Whoa. This was totally unlike Bess. She was normally easygoing and chill; she never screamed.

I stopped in my tracks. “What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“Jake . . .” My sister-in-law practically growled my name, a no-bullshit tone in her voice.

“I wanted justice,” I admitted in a low voice, as if I were ashamed for wanting something so basic, so primal.

She breathed out a noisy sigh. “Listen to me, Jake. The only justice you’re going to have is the knowledge that life has been shit for Shirley ever since she convinced you guys not to rat her out. You know damn well the statute of limitations is up, and she’ll never be prosecuted for her role in your parents’ deaths. Heal yourself, Jake, and forget Shirley. She’s not worth it.”

I braced myself against the damp cement wall, glancing up as heavy raindrops started to fall from the sky that had turned as black as my heart. Kicking my feet out in front of me, I leaned back my head and blew out a frustrated breath.