The moments I had her in my arms were moments of bliss. We didn't know each other, but I felt a connection to the Italian doctor, stronger than any other. A connection I wanted to explore. Then having her ripped out of my arms frustrated me beyond belief. Even more so, since I was the one that pushed her away in the first place.

It's been hours since she left the room, but I still felt restless. Sweat covered my skin as I kept turning around in my bed. The pain was stronger than a few hours ago, but I refused to ring the on call nurses for painkillers. I preferred to feel the pain, hoping it would cloud the dread I was feeling. I was dreading pushing Erika away. I was dreading everything.

I wasn't sure what time it was, but it must have been in the early morning hours; the sun was beginning to rise and soft rays illuminated part of the dark room. Turning away from the window, I saw the screen of my phone light up as it started vibrating in a frustrating rhythm on the bedside table.

Fuck, who calls at this hour?

I didn't recognize the number, but answered the phone anyway; another decision I would come to regret seconds after hearing the voice on the other end of the call.

"King, my brother... it's been a while."

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"James fucking Inkles. I knew there was another way you could contact me instead of sending your friends after me. It's been a while indeed... brother."

The word felt foreign on my lips. The irony of the whole situation I found myself trapped in made everything worse. He was my best friend, boys that grew up together like brothers. Crazy how I came to blame him for my own self destruction.

He was always the top dog, the boss among our small group of friends. Now that he was in charge of his father's business he became more cocky and it irked me. Peter must be proud of his eldest son; James was pretty famous for his business in casinos and strip clubs, not only in Chicago but throughout Illinois.

Still, sending people to beat your once best friend to attract my attention didn't sit well with me.

"I'm sorry about your shoulder, King. Honestly, it wasn't my intention. Although you were unforgiving yourself; my guys had do get stitches after you were done with them." His chuckle was interrupted by muffled voices on his end; he wasn't alone. "I must say, I was surprised to hear about your new lady friend. Glad she fixed you up. Erika Ricci, was it? Such a beautiful name, for a very, very beautiful woman."

It wasn't a surprise to me that James knew so much. Bet he knew more than just her name. Still, hearing him utter her name irritated me beyond belief, but I tried to maintain control of my composure.

"The hell you want, James?" His chuckle frustrated me even more. I was tired and in pain, and definitely not in the mood for this kind of bullshit. Of course, he already knew that; the bastard knew me too well.

"It's 'Big Jim', these days." A small chuckle escaped my lips at the mention of his nickname, the same one his grand father and father used back in the day. "You should do well to remember it. After all, we're going to be partners once again. Just like our fathers once were." He paused for a moment, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything else at the moment. It was obvious he had it all planned out.

"What's the matter, King? Don't you trust me? We're like brothers, above all else."

Brothers. I knew the fucker for almost twenty years, but somehow the word felt venomous.

I was sixteen when my mother told me we lost my father. According to the report he lost control of his car. Fucking bullshit, but, just like that, Anthony King was six feet under.

I was restless back then, drunk with the fame of being a famous boxer's son that followed in his footsteps. I was talented, the press loved me and I loved the attention. But before I knew it, my world started crumbling down. I lost my father and with him myself.

My father's business with the Inkles first started twenty years ago; I was six and James was eight. He had a brother my age, but my connection to him was superficial. My father trained us hard in his gym; we were his little stars, with so much potential. It was weird when James was left behind and I got all the fame, but he didn't mind. He was more interested in his father's business anyway.

The gym was our own fortress and soon after, the games we played revealed many secrets about the business between the two adults. The piles and piles of paperwork in my father's drawers about his gym and Peter Inkles' business always sparked our curiosity. Numbers, codes, money? We never knew, but being the young boys we were, we loved to play cops and spies and create scenarios about their business.

At sixteen, a few weeks before I lost my dad, a conversation between the two adults stirred my curiosity towards a different direction. I had shared my thoughts with James and he agreed that their conflict indeed seemed shady. We were planning to learn more, but it was too late. My father was silenced forever and all evidence was burned to the ground.

I felt weak, distressed and soon after a strong sense of guilt engulfed me. It was unbearable. I was to blame for his death and the thought would forever haunt me.

James tried to help me, but it always seemed like I was a step behind everything that was happening in my life. Still, he was the only one there. My mother was a mess. In the months that followed she was terrified; afraid of everything and everyone around us. She was always suspicious and somehow tried to persuade me to stay away from my best friend, but I couldn't; he was the only one that knew about my sense of guilt and I was too ashamed to share this with anyone else. Besides, she had to take care of my younger sisters who were thirteen and ten at the time. Mia, the youngest, wouldn't stop crying for weeks, while Ariana remained impassive. Her only visible downfall was the sporadic fever episodes she experienced for months after we got the news.

I felt alone, I had lost my hero and slowly I drove everyone away from me. James stood by my side, but in the months that had followed he changed as well. I felt that he was hiding something from me, but I was to oblivious while drowning my self in guilt and sorrow. Tired of my own feelings, I became James' little project in my attempts to numb the pain.

My feelings of guilt turned into anger and that fueled my passion for boxing even more. I was good, talented enough to train with great coaches. The high of beating the shit out of my opponents was enough; for a while.

To satiate my hunger for a minuscule high, James started mixing things into my tobacco cigarettes. At first I was unaware of his experiments, but soon after I craved the numbness. For months James adulterated my cigarettes with stronger substances. I needed to feel nothing and he was always there to assist me.

My addiction was a downward spiral. Enough was never enough and slowly I needed stronger, crazy combinations of chemicals. Of course that didn't last for long either and before my eighteen years of age I ended up on a hospital bed. My crying mother on one side and a distressed Marshall on the other side of my heaving body.

Everyone pointed their fingers at James, but I was the only one to blame. It was all my fault, my own doing. We were estranged after the incident again because of me. I had to. He reminded me too much of the boy I used to be and the pain I felt back then. Our different career paths further aided the urge to stay away from him. I wanted nothing to do with him or his casinos, illegal betting games, products or strip clubs. The only thing we had in common was boxing and after my last victorious match three years ago, I swore off fighting for a while. He was my last opponent and I wanted it that way. Like a chapter that had to end.

"I think your girl, Erika, will fit right in with my other girls, don't you think?" His voice was menacing, bringing me away from my painful thoughts and reminding me too much of his own father when we were younger.

The bastards were all the same.

"Careful, James. You know how short my temper can be."

His menacing chuckle provoked me beyond belief; I wanted to beat his ass one last time.

"What's the matter? I wasn't sure if she was of importance, but your reaction reveals everything I wanted to know. Well done, Brandon."

"Spit it out, already, what the fuck do you want?" I knew his games well and I already wanted nothing to do with his schemes.

I had to change the subject and the sooner I did, the sooner his attention wouldn't remain on Erika. That's how James' mind worked. When he wanted something it became an obsession for him and Erika falling into this category was the last thing I wanted; it scared me shitless.

"I want to make an alliance with you. You made wonders with your father's gym and I wish to use it to our benefit." A smirk appeared on my lips; there was nothing genuine about his words, no common benefit.

James was always only looking out for himself. Still, the way he presented his plan made me feel like he already knew I was going to agree. This was a trap I was going to walk right into and we both knew it.

"I know it's been a while, but I want you back in the ring. The city loves you, you are successful and what better way to increase my profits with you by my side?"

"What's your gain if I get back in the ring?" I was in no mood for his games. I just wanted to be done with this already.

"Your game used to be on another level, King. Imagine how many new clients, spectators your gym will win if you get back in the game. If we play our cards right, important clients of mine will be interested in betting games, as well as my product."

The product. James was always there to provide me with everything I needed. Never did I question his loyalty, because deep down I knew everything he was so gracefully providing me with was coming from his family business with drugs. Drugs, and guns, and women. The product mixed in mediocre looking tobacco cigarettes was part of the Inkles' legacy.

"Besides, imagine the numbers we'll get when one of your games is with your last opponent? The headlines, the numbers... Our last match together was the talk of the city for weeks, and since you were unbeatable, it will be so much fun to see the end results when we fight against each other one more time."

He was crazy, there was no other explanation. Either that, or he had it all planned out and with it a crazy beating for my own ass this time.

"The bets will be fixed?"

"Is that even a question? Of course, King, don't pretend like you don't know me."

"Funny how you think you can manipulate me. And by using a woman I barely know... Is this your master plan? Damn, James, you're losing your touch, brother. But it was nice talking to you--"

"That's were you're mistaken, though, Brandon. We both know you're gonna follow through with this. I know you, brother, you love challenges. After all, seeing someone getting hurt because of you ain't your style."

"After the two surprise attacks you orchestrated against me, you think I'll listen to anything you say? You're delusional."

His chuckle was heard through the phone, sick like the bastard he was. Chills run down my spine, but I fought against reacting recklessly.

"How's your little sister, Mia, doing? I heard she's coming back to Chicago this September. Figured the girls would stay away from this city, but your beautiful baby sister can't stay away from you for long, now, can she?"

I had no idea what he was talking about; Mia was finishing her second year of college at NYU. Why would she come back to Chicago?

"The hell you're talking about?" The information he knew was unsettling, proving I was out of his league in some situations.

"Oh, so you don't know?"

"Leave Mia out of this." I spat out, rage running through my veins.

"Mia King has enrolled herself here in Chicago for her third year in med school. Funny, isn't it? How the people around you are attracted to saving people while you beat the shit out of them!" I sighed in frustration.

I hated this.

"I don't see how this can work." I said, my voice coming out weaker with every minute that passed.

"I already told you. You'll get back in the ring, advertise your big return to attract new clients for me while I work behind the scenes to increase profit. You don't need to know the details; I would hate for you or anyone else to get hurt because you couldn't cooperate." He paused for a minute, once again the muffled voices of the people around him were heard, but I couldn't understand the content of their conversation. James sounded frustrated and sighed before he continued, this time with an edge to his voice.

"Listen closely, Brandon, before I lose my patience. While your shoulder heals, you will make the grant steps of advertising your return in the game. I'll work behind the scenes on my end, getting ready for your first big game in two months. I will ensure the safety of the people in your life, including your sweet little Erika and baby sister, only if you agree on my terms. Don't try to go against me, because next time it won't be just a shoulder dislocation, it will be a knife in Mia's guts or a bullet between Erika's beautiful brown eyes."

I was boiling before, but now I felt like a fucking volcano seconds from erupting. I pushed Erika away from me thinking it wasn't too late, but she was already caught up in the web. I needed time to think and find a way to turn things my way and so I did the next best thing I could right now.

"You've got yourself a deal."

I knew I was signing up my soul to the devil, but it was unavoidable. Besides, the ring was my game, my arena. And I was going to use it to my advantage.

"Excellent. I'll be sending my terms to your dear friends back at your firm." His pause accentuated my frustration further, before he continued, irony dripping from his words. "Glad you were reasonable about this, brother." He said, before ending the call.

"I hope you know what you're doing." My attention was snapped towards the figure standing by the door, the soft sun rays revealing the stoic façade of Marshall.

The old man, although strict, was always a good friend to my father and after my overdose he stood by my side like a father figure to me.

"I need time, old man." He nodded at my words, as he neared my bed.

The things that took place back then were shady, but I was young and couldn't comprehend many situations. I intended to use this opportunity in order to unveil all the things that I didn't see ten years ago. At the end, I hoped to find some closure and maybe reveal some of the blame I still felt on my shoulders.

"That you do." He scratched the stubble at his chin, a clear indication he was analyzing the situation I was caught into. "We'll have to be precise about this. I will not rest until I see them behind bars, rotting like the bastards they are."

I clenched my fists at his words, ready to fight with him by my side. If there was anyone that needed justice for my father's demise, it was the man in front of me. And just like before, he'd be proven to be my second chance in life once again.

__________________________