Dont run now wicked love.., p.1
Don't Run Now : Wicked Love Series (A Wicked Kind of Love Book 1), page 1
T.C. Clark
Don’t Run Now (BWWM)
Wicked Love Book 1
First published by Clark Small Press Publishing 2023
Copyright © 2023 by T.C. Clark
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Acknowledgement
I. DON’T RUN NOW
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
II. THE HEARTBREAKER
Chapter 1
Acknowledgement
Thank you so much for checking out this book. This is dedicated to those who have supported me through the roughest years of my life. Thank you, and I’m so proud to be back.
With Love
T.C. Clark
I
Don’t Run Now
The story of Atlas Onasis and the woman who always held his heart….
Chapter 1
* * *
“I can’t believe you’re genuinely done.” Douglass Murrow said for the third time. His shrewd blue eyes watched him closely.
Douglas was starting to sound like a broken record. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Atlas looked up and frowned. He needed to hold onto his temper. Douglas meant well, but the decision was final, and nothing anyone said would change that. “Douglas, it’s done. The sooner everyone accepts that, the better.”
Atlas rubbed his head. He had the beginnings of a migraine. There was no need to go over this again. Douglas would never understand his reasoning.
Douglas had been a reigning heavyweight boxing champion in the early nineties until a neck injury halted his dreams. The wise coach had noticed Atlas in the gym and taken him under his wing.
For Douglas, fighting was everything, and he couldn’t wrap his head around Atlas simply walking away.
Everyone in the gym was struggling with the news of his retirement. Atlas didn’t understand why. He’d told them all about his plans when he transferred his camp here. He’d made it clear to Douglas, owner of Warrior MMA, that he only intended to fight for two more years.
Atlas had honored that commitment and had maintained the light heavyweight championship the entire time. It had been challenging to maintain his strength. The younger fighters were gunning for his title.
His nickname was One Punch Man for a reason. He had devastating power in his right hand. Atlas had lost years of his life to his highly technical camps. He didn’t have a family, and women came and went for him.
His only goal had been money and power, but Atlas was advised against admitting that. People wanted to believe he valued the art of fighting, but Atlas found no joy in using his fists.
They were simply tools for him. Weapons if you let his opponents tell it. Atlas was never one for the books, and going to college didn’t appeal to him. His dyslexia had left quite a mark on his confidence in school.
He’d learned early on that he would have to make his mark on the world on a different day. He could still remember the day it all clicked. He had taken a severe beating for someone he cared about and had been hospitalized for weeks.
He didn’t regret it. As sad as it was, he was accustomed to violence.
He’d decided then to learn all he could about fighting. Atlas had been a natural, and being good at something for a change was like a drug to him. He’d struggled in every other area of his life, but he was the best at this.
Atlas had honed that side of him. Honestly, it had been easy. His skill had improved by leaps and bounds. The better his fights, the more obsessed he became with perfecting his technique.
“It’s time,” Atlas said. He signed the last page of the 100-plus-page document and sat back.
He looked past Douglas through the large window over the gym floor. Gym noises invaded the space. Heavy lighting, beeping exercise machines, and shit-talking provided the ambiance.
“I still don’t understand why,” Douglas plopped down on his worn suede couch next to the door.
Usually, Atlas didn’t explain himself. He was a man of his word and always spoke the truth. He’d told Douglas about his plan to retire in two years, the day he’d taken him on as a fighter.
Atlas had completed his goals, and it was time to move on — end of story. But Douglas wasn’t just anyone. The man had taken a chance on him, and Atlas had helped make the gym a raging success.
“Douglas, I know you don’t. I’ve seen what happens to fighters who stay in the game too long. You know, fighting was my only avenue for making money. I’m good at it, but I’ve never enjoyed it. I did what I said I would, didn’t I? Your gym is now number one for MMA in the United States. My belts hang in the entryway. People know my success was based on your coaching. I know you’ll be fine.”
Douglas rubbed his bald head and sighed. “It’s not about the money, Atlas. Don’t get me wrong, your run as champion has changed my life. But much to my wife’s dismay, I’ve never cared about money. I don’t understand how you can relinquish the title and walk away at the height of your career. You are a household name now. There are so many opportunities for you. How can you just stop?”
Atlas paused; he usually stopped a conversation at this point. He’d explained himself more than once on the subject. But he could see the hurt in Douglas’s aging eyes. Atlas was giving up a dream that Douglas would have killed for. Douglas would have made it to the top if it wasn’t for his injury.
Atlas had seen his tapes. Douglas had the kind of talent that couldn’t be learned.
“Douglas, I know how much fighting means to you. I’ve seen your tapes. You are one of the greatest boxers in the world. I’m not leaving because I don’t care about my career. I’m leaving because I’ve accomplished what I came to do. You choose to fight; it makes sense why you’ve surrounded yourself with it. This is your passion. It shows up in everything you do. Fighting has always been a means to an end for me. I’m good at it, but I’ve never enjoyed it. My childhood taught me the danger of fists. Now that I’m at the top, the need I had to be the best is gone, and I know me. If that’s gone, it’s only a matter of time before I lose to someone. The need to make it to the best was like a superpower for me. It made me obsessive about the fight. It kept me up for hours watching tapes of my opponent. But with that need gone, I know what comes next. Trust me, leaving now is the best thing I can do for me and, honestly, for you as well. You will always be the coach that got me to the top. My undefeated steak is because of you. You mean a lot to me, Douglas, and I don’t want to hurt you. But you got to let me go,” Atlas said quietly.
Douglas sighed, and the tense set of his shoulders eased. He was finally starting to understand. “I get that. I’m going to miss you, though, Atlas.”
Atlas smiled and stood up. He needed to stop by his lawyer’s office on the way. “You know I’m going to keep in touch. I plan on coming back to town a couple of times a year. I’d be willing to do seminars if you like.”
The fire entered Douglas’s eyes again, and Atlas knew he’d made the right decision. Sadly, Douglas was the closest thing he had to a father. The older man had taught him about finances and taxes. He’d even helped him set up his first checking accounts.
Looking back at how naive he’d been, he turned his stomach. If Douglas had been a conman, he could have taken advantage of him, and Atlas would have been none the wiser. Luckily, Douglas was a good man, and he’d looked out for Atlas in the ring and his finances. The contract he’d signed gave him most of the proceeds and ensured he was in charge of the direction of his career. Seeing some of his opponent’s contacts made him realize how well Douglass treated him.
“I would love that, and Frances will be over the moon,” Douglas admitted.
Frances Murrow, Douglas’s wife, was the grandmothe
Atlas had a lot of love for them. He wouldn’t miss fighting, but he would miss them.
Atlas smiled, “Tell Frances she can’t get rid of me that easily. Without her, I would never know what a home-cooked meal was.”
“Thank you, Atlas. She was worried we’d never see you again. So you are still going back to France?”
“Yes, it’s time for me to face that time of my life again.”
Douglas had only received a horrifying glimpse into the reality of his childhood. “Can you wait until next month? If you do, I can go with you,” he offered. The worry in his eyes touched Atlas.
“I think I need to do this alone,” he said softly.
“Well, you know where to find me if you need me. I’ll always answer your call,” Douglas said gruffly.
The wrinkles on his now former coach’s face tightened. He rubbed his head in defeat.
Douglas still didn’t understand why he was leaving now, but that was okay.
Atlas stood up and looked around the busy gym. He’d spent hundreds of hours in this place, honing his skill.
He’d spent his twenties and most of his thirties running from his past. It was time for him to face it head-on. The dread he used to feel at the thought of going home didn’t come.
Atlas had already packed up his penthouse and sent his items to his new place in Paris. He’d purchased an old bakery building in the Latin Quarter. Renovating it had taken nearly a million dollars, but it was worth it.
He’d hired the highest-rated architect in the city. He wanted his home to be perfect. Atlas wasn’t going home simply to face his past. Although that was part of it.
No, his primary concern was a woman.
To be clear, she was THE WOMAN.
Halle Garrett.
Her name still had the power to set his heart to racing.
When she appeared on the screen, Atlas had been looking through the blueprints for his new home, trying to figure out which one he wanted, when her voice got his attention.
Halle Garrett’s voice was a combination of smoke and fire. The other kids had teased her about it, but Atlas always loved the sound.
Halle had grown up the same way he had. Their childhood consisted of pain and hunger. They’d band together to ensure their survival. They’d shared food, clothes… everything.
Their friendship had started out of necessity but quickly morphed into something more.
Halle was the first and only girl he’d ever loved. Their short-lived romance was something that they’d clung to, but after that night in Baraka, they’d parted ways.
Halle’s brother had changed the course of their lives. They’d made a promise to each other back then.
In the dead of night, with only each other for comfort. They’d promised to be together. Atlas had let that promise die a natural death, pushing Halle and his feelings to the back of his mind.
He’d thought by now she would be married with a few kids in tow. She was a gorgeous woman with a kind heart. She’d turned heads when they were young.
Atlas had gotten into more than one fight because of that. Although Halle had always been there to stitch him up. He’d let Halle go, not because of that night.
He knew back then he hadn’t been ready to settle down. Halle was a woman for marriage. But Atlas knew he wanted to see the world. After Barakas, he’d been hospitalized, and when he’d left the hospital, he hadn’t looked back.
Well, at least, as far as she knew. The truth was a bit different. Atlas had kept in contact with Terrell, Halle’s brother. In return for giving Atlas an update on Halle and staying out of trouble, Atlas had sent him a monthly check until Halle graduated.
Terrell had told him she’d been accepted into a writing program at Oxford. She had a scholarship and everything. Terrell told him she’d made it out so he could stop worrying. The boy was finally growing up. Terrell was a lawyer now.
With those words, Atlas had let Halle slip away. He’d forced himself not to check in on her. He felt he couldn’t walk away for a second time.
Now, he’d learned she was single and successful. She’d written over ten best-selling novels now. He intended to pick one up before his flight.
He’d contacted his agent, and he knew he would be able to get him her number by the weekend.
Atlas looked around the gym that had turned him into a superstar and smiled.
It was time for him to go home and see his girl.
Only this time, he had no intention of leaving her behind.
This time, Halle Garrett would be his.
* * *
“So when is the new book coming out?” Cynthia asked.
Halle could hear her boys in the background. Her best friend was the mother of twin boys or, as she told it - two gremlins.
As their Godmother, Halle wholeheartedly agreed. God knows she loves her godchildren, but two kids going through their terrible twos simultaneously was a traumatic experience.
Halle was impressed with Cynthia’s patience. The woman was a saint, and Halle intended to remind her children of that often.
She grabbed her now ice-cold mug of strong black coffee and put it in the microwave.
It was thick and bitter, just as she liked it. The kind of brew that could keep her writing for another hour or so.
“It’s going fine. I’m stuck at a part in Act Three. I’m trying to work through it, but nothing is clicking.”
Halle knew that wasn’t a great explanation, but she knew no other way to describe it. She was in the middle of the scene where the heroine nearly gets caught by the killer.
No matter how many times she drafted it, it felt wrong.
Halle sighed and grabbed her mug. She headed straight back to her desk.
She would figure this out today. She had no other choice; she could not miss another deadline.
“Okay, well, ask someone else if you want some advice. I got a D in English.”
Halle laughed and pulled out her notepad.
“Hey, don’t you laugh at me, D’s get degrees,” she said with mock anger. Halle loved talking to Cynthia; It didn’t matter what was going on, Cynthia could always make her laugh, and Halle loved her for that.
“I agree. Just promise me you won’t tell your kids that, or they will be proper terrors in school.” The boys were already showing signs of intelligence. As Terrell would say, they would need a firm hand and a keen eye to keep them out of trouble.
“No, I intend to be one of those parents that live by the motto, do as I say, not as I do. Could you imagine if they were like me? I shudder to think of the conversations I would have with their teachers— I would probably have to pay them off or something equally humiliating,” Cynthia said seriously.
“Anyway, how was your date with what’s his name?” Cynthia asked.
Halle sighed; she knew this was why Cynthia had called. Her best friend wanted Halle to be settled with a man. In fact, she’d made it her mission to do so.
“His name was Charles, and it was awful.”
“No! I had such high hopes for him. His profile seemed normal. My light stalking revealed nothing bad.”
Somehow, Halle knew Cynthia was pouting. Her friend had high hopes for him.
“Yes, he only wanted to talk about his ex-wife. In fact, I think I may have given him the push he needed to talk to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got back together,” Halle said happily.
Charles had been a miserable date, but he wasn’t a bad man. He was just another person with a broken heart. It felt good to push him in the direction his heart wanted to go. She was starting to believe she was a natural matchmaker, as Charles was the third man she’d sent running back to their ex.
“You do know the goal for the date is to have another one,” Cynthia asked.
“That’s your goal. Mine is a good meal and solid company.”
“Don’t you want to find Mr. Right? I know Peter left quite an impact on you. But you deserve better than him. But we aren’t going to find your guy if you don’t play the game.”
