Mercy's Fight Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 Tammy Gray

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Waterfall Press, Grand Haven, MI

  www.brilliancepublishing.com

  ISBN-13: 9781477825716

  ISBN-10: 1477825711

  Cover design by Elsie Lyons

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014940503

  For my family

  Your faith is my inspiration. Your love is my strength. You make me believe all things are possible.

  “A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Eccles. 4:12

  Contents

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  * * *

  MATT

  Disoriented, I blinked repeatedly, trying to get Bruce’s face to come into focus. His lips were moving, but no sound penetrated the haze. Attempting to push off the floor, I stopped as pain coursed through my elbow.

  “Matt!” Muffled but audible, his voice drifted through the fog. Then my ears cleared with a pop.

  “Can you hear me?” Bruce asked, his voice now sharp and clear even though his face still blurred in front of mine.

  “Why am I on the floor?”

  Bruce let out a relieved sigh and then helped me up and into one of the club chairs he used for counseling. The motions revealed that my elbow wasn’t the only part of my body suffering. My back ached and my hip throbbed.

  Finally my vision normalized and I recalled some of what had taken place. I’d come in to bring Bruce the file on his new patient, a recovering drug addict recently out of rehab who was coming by stipulation of his parents. We had talked a little about the case and then . . . nothing.

  Bruce handed me a bottle of water and sat across from me, still watching me with concern. “If this is your subtle way of letting me know you need some time off, I’d recommend just asking for it next time.”

  Still a little dazed, I scanned the room, trying to get my bearings. “How long was I out?”

  “Minutes, maybe, but you went down hard. I want you to go see a doctor. A healthy twenty-five-year-old man should not be passing out. Are you eating okay?”

  Bruce’s fatherly tone made me chuckle. I guess he had kind of taken on that role. Although I now ran his counseling practice and side business, a wrestling gym, he still took a personal interest in my life. Of course, he’d also been my counselor for years and the one to lead me to Christ.

  “I’m in the best shape of my life. Three square meals.”

  “What about sleep? Is the insomnia back?”

  Finally steady, I eased off the chair and stretched my back, my joints crying out in response. “Sleep is overrated. I’ve never been a fan. You know this.”

  Bruce stood, forcing me to look him in the eye. “The nightmares are back, aren’t they? I want you back in counseling. No excuses.”

  This was one of those times when working for a certified counselor annoyed me. I had stopped scheduling appointments for myself over a year ago. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t make me force you.” Bruce crossed his massive arms. A former heavyweight wrestler, he had maintained his girth—all six foot four, 280 pounds of it. Even though I stood only a couple of inches shorter, he still had at least fifty pounds on me. His intimidating stature helped control his patients, but I had seen the softer side of him too often to be scared.

  Recognizing the warning look in his eye, I slapped his arm affectionately. “Nice try, old man, but you trained me too well.”

  “Then I’ll just fire you.”

  I laughed out loud. “Fire me? You don’t even know how to answer the phone.” I moved to the office door, knowing that Bruce would be lost without me. I kept all the records, transcribed the reports, paid the bills, and did his taxes.

  He let out a frustrated sigh, knowing I wasn’t going to give in on this one.

  But since I rarely denied any of Bruce’s requests, I caved a little. “Okay, just for you, I’ll get a full physical this week and prove there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  Bruce nodded but placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his eyes searching mine for answers I didn’t want to give. “How long have the nightmares been back?”

  I groaned. It always came back to this. “A couple of months.”

  “What do you think triggered them?”

  Turning my gaze to the floor, I felt a sharp sting of loss rip through me. “Her birthday was in April.”

  “Matt, I’m sorry. I should have remembered.” Bruce’s sympathetic tone made my throat go dry as I choked down my grief.

  Calming myself, I looked back at him clear-eyed. “I’m fine. My mom died almost ten years ago. I’ve moved past that night.”

  “Have you?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I shook my finger in his direction. “Don’t start. I’m fine. Besides, you have your hands full with your ten o’clock.” I glanced around the corner to see Rex, a fidgeting teen with a chip on his shoulder, waiting. “And he looks as cheerful as usual.”

  Bruce shook his head, accepting defeat. “All right. Send him in.”

  I shut the door behind me and walked over to my desk by the waiting area, catching the eye of my least favorite patient. “Bruce is ready for you.”

  As always, he flipped me the bird and then stormed into Bruce’s office. I couldn’t imagine the patience Bruce had to have to deal with punks like that one on a regular basis.

  Gripping the side of my desk, I thought about what just happened in Bruce’s office. It wasn’t the first time I’d blacked out. For months after my mom’s violent death, blackouts and vicious headaches were a daily occurrence.

  Then the nightmares started.

  Nightmares in which I’d witness her death as if I’d been in the room. I chalked it up to guilt. I should have been there that night. She called me for help, but I was out drinking like the delinquent I was back then. By the time I heard her pleading message, it was too late. My father had already killed her . . . right before he turned the gun on himself.

  Still standing and grappling with frustration, I rubbed my temples. I was past this, past the pain and regret. I’d pulled my life together. I had purpose and joy in what I did every day. I wasn’t that messed-up kid a
nymore.

  Taking a deep, centering breath, I clicked on my computer and busied myself with court documents and patient reports.

  When Bruce’s last patient of the day left, I stuck my head into his office to say good-bye. He was buried in his case files, but still reminded me to make the doctor’s appointment. Promising again that I would, I headed out to my motorcycle in the parking lot.

  I suppose it was cliché that I rode a bike. The muscle machine matched my brawny, tattooed bad-boy look, although I hardly fit the part anymore. Since I’d long ago quit drinking and chose not to date, my nightlife often consisted of training wrestlers or hanging out with the “little brother” assigned to me through the Hartsford Children’s Center.

  To the average person, my life might seem simple or lonely, but I loved the peace. After years of being driven by anger and emotion, I enjoyed the refreshing calm that had settled over my spirit, empowering me to leave the past behind.

  My motorcycle sprang to life, effectively clearing my head as I drove. It was only a few minutes before I pulled up to the doorway of The Storm. Squeezed between a shoe store and a doughnut shop inside a dated shopping center, the small gym brought me a great sense of pride. I’d helped Bruce purchase and outfit the place three years ago and had seen it grow well past our expectations. Now I had a waiting list of hopefuls wanting the one-on-one training we offered.

  I walked through the door and relieved Will, the kid I’d recently hired to manage the front desk and make ring reservations. He, too, was one of Bruce’s patients, like most of the kids we hired. People so often dismissed troubled kids and rarely trusted them. We found that when we showed we believed in them, they often exceeded our expectations.

  Will had already overcome more trials at sixteen than most do in a lifetime. His twin sister died in a car accident while he survived. After her death, Will retreated into himself and didn’t speak a word for six months. He started failing his classes and skipping regularly. At a breaking point, his parents had brought him to see Bruce, and after only two months of counseling and gym workouts, Will started to blossom. In fact, I could hardly get him to shut up.

  Another victory.

  “Anything interesting go on today?” I asked as he packed up his gear.

  “Nope. It’s been pretty quiet, but you’re booked until closing. Oh, and the cleaning crew called. They’re running behind and won’t get here until eleven.”

  “Again? They pulled this garbage last week and I didn’t get out of here until midnight. Next time they call, tell them to get here at closing. That’s ten o’clock, spelled out clearly in our contract.”

  “Will do, boss. Anything else?”

  I pushed my annoyance aside and smiled at him. “How’s your mom?”

  “She’s good. Better. Now that school’s out, she’s going to take some time off and we’re all going to take a trip up to Estes Park in Colorado.”

  “Well, be sure to take lots of pictures and let me know when you get some dates so I can mark you off the work rotation.”

  Smiling again, Will slid on his backpack. “You got it. Catch ya later, Matt.”

  I watched as he exited and then I headed to the locker room to change. I needed to get in a quick workout and get focused before my first trainee arrived.

  Glancing at my watch again, I was getting more and more ticked. I had showered, finished the paperwork, shut down the computers, and still the cleaning crew hadn’t arrived. If they weren’t there in fifteen minutes, I was leaving and would personally be calling the owner in the morning.

  “Finally,” I muttered when a knock echoed through the gym. Yanking open the door with annoyance, I almost berated the poor girl standing on the other side of it.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you.” She looked around warily. “I have no idea where I am and my phone just died. I know my car charger is somewhere, but it seems I grabbed the wall charger instead, like an idiot.” She shook her head in frustration. “Anyway, your place is the only one with the light still on, and I was wondering if I could just plug in my phone long enough to get the rest of the directions.”

  When she finally stopped talking and looked up at me, she flinched, clutching her phone to her chest as if I were going to rip it from her meticulously polished fingernails. “I-I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Trying not to be insulted by her terrified stare, I moved out of the way and let her through. A damsel in distress was the last thing I wanted to see at my door. I nodded toward the front counter. “There’s a plug by the desk.”

  She sighed gratefully and then rushed over to the wall, visibly shaken. She didn’t look like a girl who was used to hanging on this side of town. Wearing one of those fancy velour sweat suits, she looked dressy even with her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

  She plugged in her phone and began punching buttons. “Thank you so much. I’m new in town and really have no idea where I am.”

  “It’s no problem.” I turned away and looked outside for the tardy cleaning crew. That’s when I spotted the shiny Mercedes E-Class parked along the curb. Oh yeah, this girl was way on the wrong side of the tracks. No wonder she looked so frightened.

  Accepting that the cleaning crew was a no-show, I closed the door and studied the girl as she began writing down directions. She was strikingly beautiful, the type who would draw attention wherever she went. I forced myself to look away. Pretty or not, there was a reason I stayed away from girls like her.

  After she finished messing with her phone, she gave me a shaky smile and walked over with her hand outstretched. Two deep dimples appeared. “Thank you again. I’m Grace.”

  I took her small hand and met her eyes. Wow. When a woman had eyes that big, that blue, that beautiful, she probably got whatever she wanted without saying a word. Her scent was equally appealing—a mix of flowers and vanilla. My pulse shot up, alerting me that in minutes she’d done what no woman had in years—made me notice her.

  “Matt Holloway.”

  She glanced down, taking in the dark ink that ran up the length of my arm. I pulled my hand back, bothered that I wondered what she might be thinking.

  “I promise I’m normally much more responsible and not this flaky.” She attempted a self-deprecating laugh, but her hand was trembling.

  Heat burned the back of my neck. I scared her.

  She looked around, no doubt judging the building I’d put my heart and soul into. A knot formed in my stomach. I shouldn’t care what this spoiled princess thought of the place or of me, and it bugged me that I did.

  “You know, it’s not the best idea to go knocking on strange doors this late at night. A girl like you could get hurt out there.” I was trying for sarcasm, a response to her obvious judgment of me, but my voice came out harsher than I intended.

  Her mouth dropped open, surprise crossing her dainty features. “A girl like me?”

  Something about her shiny dark hair, expensive sweat suit, and perfect, unpainted skin made me feel as if I were in the presence of royalty. The obvious class difference between the two of us irritated me in a way I couldn’t explain and had never experienced before.

  I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms, and gave her a smirk. “Yeah. A girl like you. Luxury car, fancy clothes, the newest smartphone that’s only been out two weeks. You don’t exactly fit in around here.”

  Her face fell, and for a moment she looked downright insecure, but then she regrouped, squaring her shoulders. Without saying a word, she turned to grab her phone before stalking back over.

  “I’d thank you again, but since you managed to help me and insult me in equal measure, I will leave with a simple good night.”

  Noticing that her attempt to be snappy came out as refined as her posture, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Night yourself, Duchess, and you be sure to find a more appropriate place to stop next time.”

  Her gorgeous eyes ignited with fire as she spun around and practically ran to her car. I heard the tires peel out of t
he parking lot and shook my head when I realized I was still watching long after she disappeared.

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  GRACE

  I was still shaking when I pulled into the parking lot of my new apartment. Granted, I had already been shaking when the phone died, but this reaction wasn’t out of fear. I was ticked! How dare he judge me? I hadn’t even blinked when he opened the door all moody and unfriendly, his demeanor magnified by the buzzed haircut and black tattoos inching down his forearm.

  Okay, so maybe I had blinked a little. Any girl would have when faced with chiseled perfection. But it was his words that really struck a chord, one attached to every insecurity I had about this move. He had nailed my sheltered life with one look.

  I rolled my eyes and opened the car door. I wouldn’t let some stranger rattle me. I came to Asheville to be on my own for once, to chart my way outside the safety and security of my parents. Oh, I loved them, of course. They were amazing, caring, wonderful people, but I’d spent way too much time trying to be like them. And look where it had gotten me. My precisely designed path had disappeared along with my fiancé and best friend. To say those two deserved each other was an understatement.

  The incident did more than just open my eyes to the pretension of my former fiancé. During the months that followed, a terrifying realization crept in—I had no idea who I was. But, I thought smiling, I would soon find out.

  Opening the door to my first apartment, I was immediately thrown by the dim lighting and chipping paint. But it was clean, and I could work with the bare windows and dark carpet. This rental was not only a place to lay my head but also my first step toward independence.

  A small kitchen stood opposite a square space that would serve as the combined living and dining room. I pictured barstools flanking the long counter, and a round dining table.

  Moving to the bedroom, I winced a little at its size, but wouldn’t let myself fret over the low ceiling and short distance between the stark white walls.