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  “I better get going,” I said, a little too quickly.

  “Yep. Me too,” he said.

  We walked out together and I locked up. He gave me one last chin-tilt as he drove out of the parking lot in his big boy-toy. I drove home with butterflies in my stomach telling myself not to let this guy get under my skin.

  *****

  When I got home I started gathering up more laundry. I thought maybe I’d call my mom and go over to her house and do a load that night. As I was about to call her, my phone rang. It was Sam.

  “Hey, Jessie! I hear you had an exciting day after I left.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Paul was pretty impressive though, and Greg was pretty badass himself.”

  Sam laughed. “Yeah, two guys I’d want on my team when it’s time to throw down. Hey, we’re all meeting over at the arena at seven. Paul’s fighting tonight.”

  “He’s fighting? What was he doing working out today? He was just benching like two hundred pounds. Is he insane? He’s going to hurt himself pushing that hard.”

  Sam laughed and said, “I tell him that all the time. He’s hard-headed and one of the most driven people I’ve ever met. Good luck getting him to listen to reason. He’s fighting a guy named Alex Wilson tonight. Alex is ranked fourth in Light Heavyweight rankings. It should be a good match.”

  I looked at the laundry and I started to say no. Then I pictured Paul…there was no contest. “I’ll see you there,” I told Sam.

  I dug out a pair of jeans and sprayed them with spray and wash and ironed them. Luckily, I had some relatively decent clean blouses. It was just my work clothes and my jeans I kept running out of. I took a quick shower and fixed my hair, then knowing Paul might actually see me, I put on a little makeup as well.

  I got to the arena about six thirty and found the rest of my crew outside waiting for me. Greg had tickets for us all and we went inside and found our seats. Greg was well-connected in the community. We got the best seats to every sporting event in town. These were no exception, front row and on the side that Paul was supposed to be on. The arena was noisy and everyone in our group was chattering about how Paul was going to kick the other guy’s ass, and his last fight, and some You Tube video. I wasn’t a big fan of fighting so I’d never seen him fight nor had I watched his videos. I was there because of the strange attraction I had to a man who barely spoke to me. I wondered how many of my friends suspected that was why I was there. My trainee fighters always tried to get me to go to their bouts. Mark had been trying since I’d met him almost a year ago. I always refused. I knew that was silly, and since I spent so much of my time training them, I should’ve wanted to see my work in action. But when they came to me I didn’t have to watch them kicking each other’s asses…well, unless a guy’s sister’s ex came in and started something. It actually surprised me how excited I got watching Paul deal with that guy. He was just so in control and if he hadn’t already been sweating from his work-out, I doubted that would have even broken one. I got another little shiver just thinking about it.

  At about five ’til seven the announcer called out the fighters. Paul came out first; I guessed it was because he wasn’t the one who carried the title. Alex Wilson was the big draw tonight, supposedly. I personally didn’t know how anyone would be able to take their eyes off Paul. He was wearing a pair of light blue trunks and I wondered if he had matched them to his eyes on purpose. His tattoos shone under the bright lights and he looked like he was completely in his head. He stood in the back of the cage as his opponent was called out. He didn’t seem fazed by the fact that Wilson got twice the applause that he did. Of course he hadn’t seemed fazed by his own. I think he was so focused that he didn’t even notice.

  Wilson was about the same height as Paul, but Paul seemed to me to have him beat in stature. His shoulders were broader and his limbs seemed longer. I thought that would have to be an advantage when it came to throwing a kick or a punch. The referee had them come to the center of the ring and shake. They went back to their separate sides and within a few seconds, the bell rang for the first round.

  The referee signaled to them to fight and as soon as he did, it was on. Wilson didn’t hesitate to throw out a jab that caught Paul on the chin. Paul didn’t even rock backwards though; it was like his feet were glued to the mat. He looked like he was going to counter with a left hook but then took everyone by surprise by suddenly being in the air. His feet were literally on the floor one second and in the air the next. It was an amazing thing to watch. He caught Wilson on his left thigh with a powerful kick and then finished his spin as he landed on his feet by throwing a left-cross that landed on the side of Wilson’s head and knocked him off balance. The other man caught himself before he hit the floor, but it was obvious he was feeling a little bit dazed and confused by the hit.

  Paul was back in his stance and ready to throw another punch before the other man recovered. He came at Wilson with his right fist but Wilson caught it with both his hands and used the momentum of Paul’s own punch to spin him around. When Paul recovered from that, Wilson was ready with a kick that landed in Paul’s left flank. He flinched, but just barely before letting a hail of hooks and jabs lead the way right back up into his opponent’s face. Wilson was good at defending himself, but Paul was lightning fast. A couple of his right hooks found their mark and by the time the bell rang, I’d have to say that Paul won that round.

  The men sat on their little benches and let their managers squirt water into their mouths and wash out their mouth pieces and wipe the sweat down off them before the bell rang again and they went back out. Once again there was no hesitation on either man’s part to start fighting. Right off the bat Paul landed a front kick right into the soft center of Wilson’s belly. Paul regrouped while Wilson was still doubled over and threw a left cross as soon as he stood up. Wilson dodged that and came back with a punch of his own that landed on the side of Paul’s face. I saw blood and sweat fly across the ring and I had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from crying out. I suddenly wished it would hurry up and be over. It was like a train wreck, I didn’t want to watch but my eyes were glued to it.

  The next two rounds were a lot of back and forth. I did notice that Paul only threw one or two punches to each one of Wilson’s three or four. He was so fast on his feet and graceful that it was almost like he was dancing and he didn’t throw a punch unless he knew it was going to land. He didn’t waste his precious energy at all. Every so often a kick or a punch would land against his pretty face or body but he was usually moving when that happened so the connection didn’t have the full effect that Wilson intended. Wilson was getting winded by the fifth round and Paul amped up his hits. He’d throw a cross and then a hook and a jab and then he’d do that awesome little spin thing he did and his foot would land against anything Wilson left open. The champion was getting worn down, which was very obviously Paul’s intention. In the beginning of the sixth round, when it looked like Wilson was on his last leg, that was when Paul threw a left cross that stunned and then immediately landed a right uppercut to the underside of the jaw. Wilson’s body literally flew backwards three or four feet in the air until he landed unconscious on the mat. I watched Paul as he waited for the ref to check the other man and make sure he was still breathing. I wondered what went through a fighter’s mind while that was going on. It was always a possibility. As soon as he knew Wilson hadn’t done anything stupid like dying, a slow smile spread across his beautiful face. He’d just won the match and he had looked like a pro doing it.

  The ref announced Paul as the winner and when they opened the cage to help Wilson out, he was starting to come around. Paul came out next and the crowd was going wild, cheering for him like crazy. He saw us in the front row and the men were all high-fiving him. Bodies were pushing and shoving up against other bodies and I found mine close enough to Paul’s at one point that if I’d wiggled just a fraction of an inch we’d be chest to chest.

  I looked up at him and said, “Wow,
you were amazing.” He was smiling and looking down at me with those sexy blue eyes and suddenly it was like we were in a vacuum. I couldn’t even hear the rest of the crowd, all I heard was the sound of his breathing and the pounding beat of my own heart in my ears. It was that feeling that you got right before you kissed a man for the first time and I swear he was thinking about it. I was so sure of it that I was inching up on my tiptoes. That was until there was suddenly a female hand on his shoulder and he turned away from me. He hugged the woman tightly, picking her up off her feet as he did. She was facing me, then, and she had the exact same color of eyes as Paul. I told myself it was his sister…it had to be.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I went to sleep that night still buzzing with the sexual tension that I’d felt when Paul and I had stood so close after the fight. I dreamt about it that night. In my dream he actually kissed me and it was one of those kisses that you want to last forever and one that you know you’ll never forget. I woke up the next morning and it was once again the first thing on my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d felt when he stood so close to me no matter how hard I tried. It was crazy. It wasn’t like we even kissed. Here I was acting like we’d spent a passionate night together. There were hundreds of other people there and he was standing so close to me because the crowd kept pushing him forward. I told myself that I wasn’t going to blow it all out of proportion. Then I took a cold shower. It didn’t work.

  I was still thinking about him after I showered and while I dressed for work. While I had my coffee and a couple pieces of toast I actually let myself wonder if maybe he was thinking about me too. I thought about it again as I drove to work. The more I thought about it, the more I found myself wanting to believe that he felt the same chemistry as I had and I let the magic of that moment last right up until I drove into the parking lot and saw all the police cars.

  I had to pull back out on the street and park because our lot was so full. When I got out of the car and started toward the front of the gym I couldn’t believe my eyes. The two huge glass windows in the front were completely shattered. I walked up to the door and was stopped by a police officer.

  “I’m sorry, miss, you can’t go in there.”

  “I work here,” I told him. He started to say something else when I saw Sam approach us from inside.

  “It’s okay,” Sam told him. “You can let her in. She’s the one who locked up last night.” The officer stepped aside and let me in.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked Sam.

  “Greg got a call from the alarm company early this morning. Whoever did it was gone by the time the police got here.” I looked around once I was inside and saw that some of the equipment was missing and other pieces were lying on their sides or broken. Trash had been dumped everywhere out of the trash can in the parking lot and the big metal can was lying on its side in the middle of the room. “The police want to talk to you since you were the last one here last night.”

  I nodded. I was numb, feeling so bad for Greg and Yolanda. This was going to be a huge setback for them. They poured their souls into this place and Yolanda even kept her day job so to speak to help support it. That day, the gym was completely unusable. I hoped it was at least all covered under their insurance.

  Sam led me over to the lead officer and that was when I saw Paul. He looked really pissed. He was standing inside talking to Greg and one of the officers and I could almost feel the rage emanating from him. I wondered if he was like me and just pissed because Greg was a friend, or was there something else on his mind?

  “Miss Cooper?” the officer asked.

  “Yes, Jessie Cooper,” I said.

  “You closed up last night?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You set the alarm?”

  “Yes, I always do when I’m the last one out. It went off, right?”

  “Yes, it did. I’m just trying to get a timeline here. What time was it when you left?”

  “Maybe four forty-five or five p.m.”

  “Did you clock out before you left?” I thought about it. I was bench pressing…showing off to Paul and then I’d stood up next to him and my insides had turned to Jell-O and I’d ran out…I didn’t stop to clock out.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Was there a reason for that?” he asked.

  “No, not really,” I said. “I just forgot. I do that sometimes.”

  “Was anyone else around when you left?” he asked. I looked back over toward the door. Paul was standing off by himself now but he was still obviously fuming.

  “Um, yeah. Paul Delport was our last client. He left at the same time I did.”

  The officer looked at Sam and he nodded and said, “The other officer was just talking to him, he’s over there by my boss.”

  “Was anyone hanging around outside, any vehicles in the parking lot that shouldn’t have been there?”

  “Not that I noticed…I know that my car and Paul’s truck were the only ones in the parking lot.”

  “Okay. Miss Cooper, were you here yesterday when an incident took place between Mr. Delport and another man?”

  “Yeah, I was here.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Victoria was trying to close up and the guy pushed his way in. She told him we were closed but he came in anyways. Paul was minding his own business and working out over there on the bench press. That maniac just barreled up to him and got in his face.”

  “Did you hear the words exchanged between them?” I wasn’t in the habit of lying to or withholding things from the police but I didn’t know all of the details, and anything I said about it could be taken out of context.

  “Not really. I heard a lot of cussing coming from the big guy. I had stepped back out of the way. I couldn’t hear what they were saying clearly,” I told him.

  “Can you describe the man that fought with Mr. Delport?”

  “Yeah, he was about six four…really big guy, maybe two-fifty or two-sixty…dark hair, and dark eyes…white guy. I think he had some tattoos on his arms.”

  “Okay, thanks. Do you mind giving me your phone number in case anything else comes up?”

  I gave it to him and he thanked me. Then I went over to where Paul was standing. “Hey,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  He looked at me with an angry look still etched into his features as he said, “Victor’s dad, Mitch, did this.”

  Now it made sense why he was so angry. “Are you sure?” I asked him.

  “Who else would do this? It wasn’t a burglary.”

  “They did take a couple of the machines…”

  “If they were going to burglarize this place they would have taken more than one or two machines out of the front window. The place was more vandalized than anything else. This was Mitch, pissed because I won’t tell him where my sister is, and because I kicked his ass yesterday. You and Greg both heard him say we would be sorry before he left…” He was so angry that his voice was shaking. I was suddenly worried about what he planned on doing.

  “Hey, why don’t you and I go out for a run and get some fresh air? I’m a little bit pissed myself and exercise always helps me.”

  Paul looked around the gym. Realizing there was nothing for him to do there he said, “Yeah, okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  I told Sam we were taking off but to tell Greg and Yolanda to call me if they needed anything. Sam said the police would have the gym most of the rest of the day and we’d probably start clean-up in the morning.

  Paul and I went back out the front and I stopped at my car to leave my bag in the trunk. Paul was already bouncing up and down like the energy built up inside of him was about to shoot out through his fingertips if he didn’t do something with it. We started off actually running down the sidewalk and away from the city toward a nice little residential area where I knew there was a park with a lake and some jogging trails. I didn’t know if he was purposely holding himself back and matching his stride to m
ine, but we ran along evenly step for step until we got to the park. Paul had been silent that whole time, but when we hit the trails he suddenly slowed his pace to a walk and started talking.

  “I feel kind of like this is my fault. I feel bad for Greg.”

  “This is not your fault.”

  “It’s just…I don’t know…Mitch is my fight, not Greg’s. I know Mitch did this. He’s a terrible person and this is actually mild for him. I tried to tell my sister that I could just sense it the first time I met him twelve years ago. I was just a kid and even then he gave me a bad feeling. He treated her like shit…and then all of a sudden she was pregnant. I think she felt trapped, like she had to stay with him, then. He was pushing for her to marry him and my mom and I were begging her not to. She was hard-headed back then, and I think she was feeling so badly about getting pregnant and having to drop out of high school that part of her self-induced punishment was staying with Mitch. She was also getting fifty different kinds of hell from my father over it which didn’t help at all. I guess we’re lucky it only pushed her out of the house and she didn’t actually marry him. She stayed with him for five years. I don’t know how she managed that. I was so happy when she called me and said that she’d left him finally about six years ago…right about the time Victor started school. She got a job and her own place and Mitch left her alone for the first couple of years. I’m not sure what he was doing during that time…maybe he was in prison or something and couldn’t bother her. Anyways, he found her and he slowly started coming back around. She’s had to change her phone number three times, she can’t have a Facebook page and she even had to pick Victor up and move him and make him change schools…The bastard doesn’t even care what he’s doing to his own son. Now he’s saying that he wants joint custody. Screw that bullshit!”