Three days of straight training. Three days of intense workouts, courtesy of myself and Slater, putting Mia through her paces. By late Wednesday evening, she’d sworn so much at Slater that he approached her hands-up every time—but he didn’t go easy on her. Ever.
Me, she just whaled on at every opportunity. And ho boy, my dick enjoyed it.
In theory anyway, since sex was a non-issue with my mother bunking down at the apartment. She was still there. Every time I walked in, I expected her to be gone. Or, worse, for my father to be there, making his case like the good attorney he was.
Bruises heal. I won’t do it again. If only you didn’t make me so mad.
But my father didn’t come around, and my mother claimed to be looking for a job—and her own apartment. Neither Mia and I were putting a rush on that, for obvious reasons. Carly was being incredible about the whole situation, encouraging my mom to watch TV with her at night and doing crazy things like whipping up face masks and girl stuff for them to do. My mom had always wanted a daughter, and I guess Carly needed mom time.
Even for a jaded jerk like me¸ it was nice to see.
It helped to know that my mom was occupied some of the time when Mia and I were at the gym, our new home for this week. My girl had never been a slouch when it came to her regime, but she’d been on warp speed the past few days. I’d never seen her so focused. Intense seemed like about three levels below her current level of insanity.
At first I’d been worried that maybe she couldn’t get ready this fast, even if Evie wasn’t up to her usual speed, which remained to be seen. I wasn’t worried anymore. Judging from the way Mia was attacking the heavy bag in the corner, kicking it like a demon until my calves burned in sympathy, I was pretty sure she could beat the devil herself.
“Think she ever gets tired?” Slater asked out of the corner of his mouth, passing me a bottle of his liquid herbal green shit. Probably more spinach. I drank it anyway because I was thirsty, and it was free.
“No. She’s relentless.”
Mia did a flying back kick at the bag and Slater whistled under his breath. “Man, what I could’ve done with her if I’d been in her corner all those years instead of yours.”
I set down Slater’s smoothie crap and mopped my brow with the towel notched at my hip. I’d been working Mia for the better part of three hours, and we’d grappled for at least forty minutes of that. We’d only stopped when she’d noticed me having to hit the ibuprofen for my headache, despite Slater claiming I’d sprained my dick.
Since then, she’d been solo freestyling with the bag. Hard. Without stopping. I’d offered her a water and she’d practically bitten me.
And not in the sexy way.
“She really wants to kill that Evie chick, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, but there’s more to it.” Watching Mia execute another flying punch and kick combination, I wondered exactly what. Not that wanting to win wasn’t enough for her, especially after months away from the scene when she knew people would be counting her out.
“More like what?” Slater picked up the bottle I wasn’t drinking from and took a healthy swig. “Those bastards she’s fighting for?”
Must be serious if my buddy was whipping out the swears. “She’s not fighting for anyone but herself.”
“Yeah, but the whole price on her head crap. That’s pretty serious motivation, dontcha think?”
“You know Mia. Do you really think she’s scared?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “If something scares her, it’s not someone threatening to take her out. That’s like the opening bell to round one.” I leaned back on my elbows, studying her form the way I would any competitor. Judging strengths, evaluating weaknesses. In her case, I couldn’t find any.
Not that she was perfect. Hell no. She still led with her calves, and she relied a bit too much on the same jabs and combinations. But she was lightning quick and had the kind of endurance that most fighters would’ve begged, borrowed and stole to get. Her ground game could’ve been better, and would improve the more she practiced. She’d compensated by working on her arm bar and her throws until I had no doubt that she do some serious harm to anyone who faced her in the ring.
I almost felt a little sorry for Evie, even if she had told me to go fuck myself—in her own inimitable British way—when I’d explained I was handing her training off to Timmins.
Slater pulled out a baggie of trail mix and popped a handful in his mouth. “So what does scare her?”
“Something happening to Carly,” I said without hesitation.
As soon as the words were out, I sat up, my eyes narrowing. A smart man learned to trust his spidey sense when dealing with Mia Anderson. I had a feeling something more was going on here than Mia wanting to prove to everyone that she was in the same fighting shape she’d been in last winter.
That would be too easy. Too usual.
She’d been suspiciously quiet all week, and I’d chalked it up to her laser-like focus and oh, finding out she was a millionaire. But there was more. I didn’t know what more, but I would find out.
As soon as I got Slater out of this training room and locked up so we could be alone. Just in case of bloodshed—and/or the usage of non-traditional interrogation tactics.
Either or both was a distinct possibility.
Feigning a yawn, I glanced at my watch. “Wow, look at the time.”