TWIN PASSIONS (Book 3)
Prologue
9 Years Ago
Gemma
The cool air swept through my hair as I sat on the log down by the water's edge. It was silent there, all except the light rustling of leaves and the croaking of frogs. The boisterous noise of kids chattering and laughing had drained away now, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I looked out over the lake, sparkling and shimmering under the light of the full moon. The ripples grew and faded away with the breeze, catching the light as they sped along the surface of the water. Up above, the stars were as bright as I'd ever seen them, unhindered by smog and smoke and pollution. Here it was so clean, so pure, so quiet.
It wasn't what I was used to.
I'd just moved to Montana from New York and had never experienced such absolute silence, such tranquility. It was strangely unnerving, but it was what I craved right now.
There was a party going on in the large main cabin in the middle of our camp: a welcome party to start this week long trip. It was some sort of end of summer trip before starting high school. Trouble was, everyone knew each other and I had only just moved there.
I felt totally left out and totally alone. I knew it would be like this. I'd begged my stupid parents not to make me go.
“Daddy, can't I just start school normally in two weeks? Please don't make me go on that trip.”
My pleads had fallen on deaf ears. They just wanted to get away for their own late summer vacation and saw it as a great chance to get rid of me for the week.
“Gemma, it'll be good for you. It will give you a chance to get to know the other kids before you start at your new high school.”
Yeah right. Stupid selfish parents. I knew they just wanted me out of the way.
I felt so alone sitting on that hard log. As I'd feared, everyone had jumped into each others arms and starting chattering immediately about their amazing vacations and everything that they'd been doing over the summer. Barely anyone took notice of me, and I was too shy to try to introduce myself to them. It was hell.
Then the worst thing of all happened.
One of the teachers calmed everyone down and stood me up in front of my entire year. She made me introduce myself and talk about where I'd come from; about my life; about my family.
I had never been so nervous or felt so stupid. I could feel my cheeks beginning to burn and redden. I could see the smirks and looks of amusement in the crowd. I could hear the chattering and stifled giggles as I hung my head and mumbled a few cracked and nervous words.
Damn that stupid teacher for making me do that.
It wasn't long after my public humiliation that I'd decided to run off out of the large open cabin and into the cool night air. I needed to get away from all the prying eyes and whispering voices.
So I ran.
I ran away towards the lake where we'd be swimming and boating the next day. I felt this huge urge to keep going, rush away into the woods and somehow make my way back home. I'd get lost. I'd probably get eaten by a bear. But I didn't care. Somehow anything was better than going back and facing all those staring faces.
“Are you OK?”
I jumped at the sound of the voice behind me and turned quickly.
A boy stood there, his hair dark and unkempt, a look of compassion on his face. His eyes were shining green in the glowing moonlight, his face so clean cut and free of the spots and acne that many of the others kids were engulfed by.
“It's horrible, isn't it?” he continued as I stared on at him, a mixture of confusion and surprise dominating my expression. “ You know, being the new kid...”
I nodded sheepishly.
He crept in closer towards me and reached out his hand. “My names Zack,” he said with a smile.
I could feel a slight blush reappearing on my face as I reached out my hand and took his. His touch was soft and warm in the cool night.
“Gemma,” I said, slightly nervously. I still hadn't really learned to talk to boys properly.
He winked at me. “I know. Do you mind if I sit?”
I nodded again and he rounded the side of the log and sat beside me, closer than I was comfortable with.
“It's beautiful here isn't it?” he said. His voice was buoyant and full of confidence. He seemed so much older than me but I knew he was just starting high school as I was. “I guess it's a far cry from New York. That's where you grew up, right?”
I kept looking out over the water, my head slightly hung. “Yeah. You must have been the only person actually listening. Everyone else was laughing.”
He giggled lightly, the sound disturbing the silent night and echoing quietly across the lake.“I guess they're all just excited to see each other again. Anyway, half of them would have been just as nervous as you going up in front of everyone.”
Somehow I got the impression that Zack wasn't one of them.
“Was it that obvious? Me being nervous?” The hurt and embarrassment in my voice must have been clear.
I could see his head turn to me out of the corner of my eye. He hesitated, his expression growing more serious. “Not really, no. Look, don't worry about it. I'll introduce you around, OK?”
I cranked my head slowly to the left and caught his eyes. A light flutter rushed up through my body.
“Thanks,” I said, tentatively meeting his gaze.
I turned my head quickly back towards the water as it sparkled and swayed in the gentle breeze. I felt weirdly comforted by Zack's presence. He was the only one who had ventured to talk to me so far. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad starting at this new school after all.
“So tell me about home,” he said, turning back to the twinkling lake. “It's just me now, no one else. I want to hear about it. I've never been to New York.”
I glanced at him again, his green eyes cast into the middle distance, and started speaking. For the next hour we spoke, talking about home, about family, about everything else in between. It was the longest I'd ever spoken to a boy, and this boy was gorgeous. I felt invigorated, like I was a different person. Maybe they weren't quite so scary after all.
I grew more and more comfortable the longer we spoke, the both of us forgetting about the party a few hundred feet behind us. Every now and then I'd hear a bit of extra loud chatter drift towards us from the lights of the camp but Zack never turned. He just kept speaking or listening, whatever it was, and kept his eyes on me or out onto the water or the dark silhouettes of the trees in the distance.
A chill began to descend as the minutes moved by, causing me to shiver lightly. He suggested we take a walk to warm us up and I didn't argue against it. I wanted to stay longer from the party. I wanted to stay longer with him. Just him.
We walked through light woods without a flashlight. The warm glow of the moon made one largely redundant, lighting our path as we crept over twigs and debris fallen from the trees above.
I asked of bears and other animals, a fear growing in me that we'd suddenly be set upon by some form of wildlife I'd only ever seen on TV, but he put my mind to rest. He told me he'd spent his entire life in Montana and knew this place well, having come up here on several school trips and other family vacations in the past.
He was the complete opposite of me: confident, self assured, and seemingly fearless. I felt immediately attached to him.
We circled the camp, moving up through the woods surrounding it and back down towards the shore of the lake. The party kept going inside the ring of smaller cabins that would act as dorms for the next week. Suddenly the idea of being there didn't seem so alarming. Suddenly the idea of starting a new school was less scary.
I could hear party games going on, organized by the teachers, as cheers and laughs erupted from the main cabin. It sounded like everyone was having a blast, the time of their lives. I asked Zack if he wanted to go and rejoin his friends. He told me he was having a better time with me.
We moved back to the lake and stopped on the shore. Our sneakers came off and we tiptoed into the cold water, lapping against the pebbles. We splashed and played as we waded further in, the cold water gradually growing warmer against our skin the more we thrashed.
I felt Zack's hand reaching for mine as I prepared to splash him once more. He was suddenly still in the surf, his eyes set on me. He was looking at me like I'd never been looked at, a smile lighting up his face. I could feel my breath begin to hold firm in my body as he leaned in closer towards me.
I instinctively leant back a fraction but he kept forward. From nowhere his lips touched mine, soft and warm, as a shot of electricity pulsed through my body. I was drawn back forward by this energy as we stood in the cold water, his hand still clasping mine.
It lasted only a second or two but it felt like hours. When he pulled back, a smile once more began to grow on his face. My mind was swimming like I was, the world blurred.
It was a beautiful blur, an electrifying blur, a blur brought on by a new experience.
My first kiss.
Chapter 1
Present Day
Gemma
I could feel the energy beginning to build inside the arena as I approached down the corridor towards two large double doors. Well, arena might be too strong a word. This place was more of an underground bunker, a large hollowed out space where people would gather to watch men box.
It was Friday night and something I was used to. It wasn't really by choice that I was there. Boxing wasn't exactly something I enjoyed, but then, I had to support my man.
He told me I was his lucky charm, that every time I was there watching him he'd win, and win well. I gave him confidence, he said. My eyes on him made him unbeatable, unwavering in the face of his opponent. Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about, but if it worked, it worked, and I wasn't going to argue.
I paced quickly down the corridor as the beating noise of the crowd beyond the doors began to fade. Then an announcer started speaking, loud over a microphone, his voice booming through the doors.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are just one fight away from our main event for the night. But first, be upstanding for our penultimate bout. In the red corner, weighing in at a lean and mean 165 pounds, put your hands together for Randy Marchiano!”
The crowd roared to life again, applause and cheers beating down the corridor towards me as I continued my approach.
The announcer then spoke again, introducing the other fighter as Gabriel Ortega to an even greater barrage of noise.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I rushed down to the entrance. I hadn't missed it. Thank God I hadn't missed it.
A wall of noise hit me as I burst through the doors, the bell just sounding for the first round. I was met with a familiar sight: the large open space was filled with people, with seating stretching out from the ring in the center. Up above were numerous lights, shining down onto the ring, with large posters and banners set up around the walls.
The bouts were officially sanctioned, often even televised for a local TV audience in town. This place was a stepping stone for those fighters looking to climb the ladder right to the top, up to the various world championship belts that I'd been told about but failed to properly take in.
When they weren't televised, each fight was called on the radio by a local sports station. They became hugely popular among the local population in the city of Branton. If you couldn't come down and watch the fights in person, you'd be sure to be listening to them on the radio. Several bars in town would even play the fights over the radio on Friday nights.
I didn't get it, despite my proximity to the action. Boxing didn't appeal to me at all, and I couldn't understand everyone's fascination with it all. Even now, looking out over the crowd, I could see a host of young people, not only young guys, but girls as well, all standing and cheering.
I knew why many of them came. They came for the same reason as me. They came to watch him fight.
….
I stood at the back, watching for a moment as the action began to unfold. It sounded like Ortega had the majority of the crowd on his side, and made use of their support with the odd wave and gesture as he danced around his opponent.
My eyes searched along the front row, my heart-rate beginning to rise gradually as I looked for my seat. I was never entirely sure who'd be there, but at least two of the Logan boys would generally turn up, sometimes with their girlfriends in tow, sometimes alone.
As my eyes trailed over the baying crowd I caught sight of a couple of young men, both tall and strong, standing and shaking their fists as Ortega landed a series of devastating blows. They were the two eldest Logan brothers, Crash and Kyle, and they appeared to be alone.
A mixed feeling of relief and disappointment filled me up. He wasn't there.
I walked down through the gap in the crowd towards the ring and over towards the boys. They barely seemed to notice me as I approached the spare seat next to Crash, the both of them with blazing eyes set firm on the fight only feet in front of us. The roar of the crowd was deafening as Ortega landed his final blows, sending his opponent crashing down onto the canvas. The ref raised his hand and the tumult grew louder, my eardrums splitting at the shrieks and cries and roars around me.
It was only when the crowd began to quieten and retake their seats that Crash and Kyle noticed me.
“Gemma,” Crash said, slightly bemused, “when did you get here?”
“Oh, just now. I haven't missed him have I?”
He shook his head. “Nope, he's main eventing this evening. You got here just in time.”
I thought as much. Thank God for that.
The lights suddenly flashed above as the announcer stepped back into the ring. The crowd hushed once more as the lights suddenly dimmed, a spotlight hitting a changing room over in the corner as some loud rap music erupted from the speakers fixed around the room.
A man stepped forward, bouncing up towards the ring and shaking his arms as he went. He had a couple of coaches to each side behind him, walking more soberly in his wake as he held out his gloves to the crowd as he passed them by. He had a confident swagger about him, shimmying this way and that and leaping straight up into the ring and climbing through the rope with a bustling energy.
He took a couple of laps of the ring before the spotlights shifted to the other side of the room, fixing their attention on the final combatant of the night. My heart began beating faster and faster as the door opened, and a figure walked through, hooded and cloaked in black.
Even above the loud music I could hear the shrieks and squawks of the girls in the crowd grow louder. I glanced around to see them holding signs bearing his name.
MARRY ME CADE
WE LOVE YOU CADE
YOU CAN ENTER MY RING ANY TIME CADE
I could feel a deep well of jealousy burning inside me at the looks in these girls eyes. Ogling him, licking their lips at the sight of his lean abs, the sweat dripping down the pecs and into his shorts. There must have been a hundred girls there, all screaming like schoolgirls at a Justin Bieber concert.
Pathetic.
He walked up towards the ring in a totally different fashion to the previous fighter. He didn't veer to the left or the right. He didn't move his arms or stretch his gloves out into the crowd. He just kept his eyes firmly on the ring in front of him, pacing forward with purpose, his face shrouded under a hood.
He climbed up into the ring and through the ropes, not wasting any energy, saying every ounce of emotion for the fight. This wasn't a game. This was serious. And it showed.
The music died slowly, the shrieks of the girls around me suddenly more piercing as Cade slipped his cloak off. His 6 foot body was tanned and glistening with sweat, his pecs curved perfectly and his abs tight and ripped. He wore no smile on his face, his green eyes burning with a single focus. His hair was dark and slicked back, his face startlingly perfect and unblemished, even with so many fights under his belt.
The belt – that's all his thought was bent on.
The announcer's voice suddenly filled the air around us, his words booming through the microphone.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our main event for the night. In the blue corner, weighing in at 198 pounds, Ron Rampage Renton.”
The energetic fighter sprung into the air and bounced once more around the ring, his arms flying high and a portion of the crowd cheered his name. Why did these fighters always have such stupid names.
The announcer's voice began growing in strength as he continued, raising his hand out to the red corner.
“And in the red corner, weighting in at 195 pounds...your champion...the undefeated hometown hero...Cade The Crusher Logan!”
The announcer drew out his name as the volume in the room burst once more into life, threatening to blow the roof right off.
Cade stepped forward towards the referee, who now gathered the two fighters in the center of the ring. The volume stayed at fever pitch with anticipation as the two fighters squared off against each other.
I could hear Crash and Kyle to my right, roaring their support. Nothing was more important than family to them, and they were proud of what their younger brother was doing. He was bringing more fame to the family name, a name that was already well known across the city.
The roar began to slowly dampen as the two men walked back to their corners and took some last-minute advice from their coaches.
Then, suddenly, the bell clanged loudly and they both turned and faced each other.
The fight was about to begin.
….
It was late in round 3 when Ron Rampage Renton hit the canvas and didn't get up. It wasn't so much of a rampage as a massacre, and it all came from the cloves of Cade Logan.
He'd spent the first round ducking and diving and feeling out his opponent. By the second he'd sent him to the mat. Renton was given a reprieve by the bell but it didn't last. That third round was as one-sided as you could imagine.
Cade was known for his intensity when he fought. He had this tunnel vision, and paid no attention to anyone, or anything else. Other fighters would showboat, gesture to the crowd and toy with their opponents.
Not Cade. No, he was all business. It was his brooding intensity that set the hearts of the girls alight, that dragged them into this underground boxing hall which was once only the province of hard men with a thirst for blood.
When Cade's un-gloved fist was raised to the heavens by the referee you could have been forgiven for thinking you were at a Beyonce concert and not a boxing match. The cries of the adorning girls outweighed the cheers and bellows of the men who truly supported the sport and the city's new favorite son.
He looked over the crowd and smiled, ever so slightly, for the first time, his expression beginning to lighten as another victory was added to his record. He turned all the way around before slowly coming to a finish with his sights set firmly in my direction.
His hand drew back down and he stretched out his finger, pointing directly at me. He winked as he mouthed two words, very clearly so I could see.
FOR YOU.
It was the first time he'd ever acknowledged me at one of his fights. I could see eyes on me, coming at me from all angles, the eyes of young women burning with envy. His finger and stare lingered on me for a moment before he quickly stepped out of the ring again and paced off back down the tunnel towards his changing room.
I quickly stood up and made a motion to leave. The feeling of people staring at me had never sat well in my stomach.
It always reminded me of another time, long ago.