Tate’s eyebrows rise, and he sits back in his chair, putting some distance between the two of them. And finally, something that looks a bit like fear alights in his eyes. His survival instincts were never honed. He might not have sensed the danger Ares is when we first walked in. But he certainly senses it now.
“What about your classes?” Tate asks, trying to fight the intimidation he feels.
“I will message everyone and tell them I have some personal stuff to take care of,” I offer. “It won’t be the end of the world if class is cancelled for two weeks.”
“Except the money I’ll lose,” Tate says with angry annoyance.
Ares reaches into his back pocket and takes out his wallet. I can’t even imagine the cash this man must carry around all the time. But he extracts another stack of hundreds and drops them down on the desk. “That ought to cover it. So, do the human thing, give Lana the time off. And leave her the hell alone when she comes back.”
Without waiting for an answer, Ares turns. He takes my hand again and walks us out the door.
I spare one glance back, catching Tate’s eyes. There’s a whole storm there. Anger. Annoyance. He’s definitely debating firing me. But he’s also stark still, his entire body tight, coiling as far away from Ares as possible.
I note that, technically, Tate never said I could have the time off.
But he also didn’t argue with Ares.
I don’t think many would have the balls.
I feel like I should offer a goodbye to all the other trainers. I’ve known most of them for years. They’ve been the closest thing I’ve had to family for a while. But I don’t want to acknowledge this feeling like I’ll never come here again.
So, I don’t do anything but wave to Garrett as Ares and I head out the door.
“We might need to take a week,” Ares says as he takes the helmet from the bike. I feel his gaze fix on me behind his shades as I take it from him. “A few days might not be enough to get our shit straight to sell this.”
I nod in agreement. “And it’s not an easy sell when no one has seen us together. We’re going to have to work this into our back story.”
Ares nods. I pull the helmet on and climb onto the back of the bike after him.
He points us toward midtown, and just a few minutes later, he pulls into a parking garage. I climb off, and again, he takes my hand as we head back out onto the street level.
I probably shouldn’t like the feel of his hand in mine. But I do. I like its warmth. I like its size. I like the confidence in it. I even like that with the tattoos that cover not just his hand, but every surface of him that I can see, most people are giving us a wide berth.
I’m not sure what that says about me.
“So, do you want to tell me about the connection you have to that place?” Ares asks. I’m not even paying attention towhere we’re going. He walks swiftly, confidently, and I just follow.
I swallow once. I know Ares needs to know details. But not every detail of my past is a place I want to go. There are things there I have no desire to relive. “My dad used to own it,” I begin, sifting through what I’m willing to share. “He inherited it from his father once he passed. I was about five when that happened. So, the gym has always, always been a part of my life.”
“I get the feeling your dad was hands on with that operation,” Ares says. He looks over at me, and I feel his intense gaze studying my face. But I can’t look at him right now. Not when I’m falling back through the past.
I nod. “My father was a trainer. A boxer. He was really good, too. Made some money when he was young, before he took over. He loved working with younger boxers. Honestly, he didn’t like running the gym that much. He wasn’t much of a businessman. He was all about teaching. About connecting with young fighters. He started training me when I was about four. He made me think I could take on anyone in the world.”
“I’m pretty sure you could,” Ares says. I finally spare a glance in his direction. He’s still looking at me, and his expression tells me he means it.
“I was good,” I admit. “I won lots of competitions. I definitely leaned more toward the MMA stuff than the boxing. My dad had all my trophies set up in the living room. But I was always small. Being five-four and never being able to bulk up enough limited me. Which was fine. I never had dreams of going pro or anything.”
“What did you want to do?” Ares asks.
I shrug. “It doesn’t sound ambitious enough, but I alwaysjust kind of wanted to do what my dad did. Run the gym. Valor Combat Sports was always this great place where people came together. I just thought I’d work there, teach classes, and someday, I’d take over, just like my dad did.”
“What happened?”
I let out a hard, frustrated sigh. “Like I said, my dad wasn’t the best businessman. He never made all that much money because he never charged people enough or he got taken advantage of. My dad died two years ago. When I tried to take charge of the gym like his will said, I found out he was buried beneath quite a bit of debt. Until I paid it off, I couldn’t take over.”
“Tate Kelso undercut you,” Ares states.
I nod. “He’d been a patron at the gym for three years. And he was always trying to talk to my dad about how the place could be better. Their visions weren’t the same. But Tate came from some money, so when he heard what had happened, he paid off the debts, and the gym became his.”
