Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

“Not yet,” I mumbled, curling in tighter. Fatigue smothered me, heavy and oppressive. Even my anger and fear wasn’t an adequate match for it.

“I’ve got you, baby. Both of you.”

His words followed me into sleep.

18

Tray

“How are you doing? Need some water? Here, have some water.”

Mia glared at me and kept jumping rope.

“Okay. No water. How about one of these stupid fucking tapes?” I caught Slater’s motivational cassettes between my fingers and waved them. “They’ll get you pumped up.”

“Try the third one. Really good stuff,” Slater affirmed, sipping from another bottle of herbal crap. “It’ll get you centered.”

“I’m centered enough.”

“Your wraps okay? Slater, check her—”

“Don’t touch.” She turned and slashed her jump rope through the air, making Slater jump back. “I’m fine. Well-hydrated, motivated, ready to go. Now leave me the hell alone.”

“What did I tell you?” Kizzy asked from a nearby bench. “Told you didn’t need a pair of men in your corner. How many fights did we win, just you and me?”

“Thirty-eight,” Mia replied, without breaking stride in her jumps.

I blinked. “Thirty-eight? Seriously?”

“Just because you have a pair of soft and wrinklies does mean you have winning cornered, Foxy.” She shifted toward Mia, her wild hair frizzing over her shoulders as she leaned forward. “And how many fights did you lose?”

“Two. One draw. One disqualification, due to excessive bleeding.”

“Yours?” I asked, more than a little stunned. We’d never spent a lot of time talking about our fight records, but she’d won more times than I had, for fuck’s sake. Not many more times, but more.

Mia continued jumping in methodic reps, her gaze focused straight ahead. “Hers.”

Slater’s eyes went wide. “Badass.”

“How many times did I win before I started training you?” Kizzy asked, as if this was the usual way they got ready for a bout. The almost robotic recitation seemed to keep her in the zone way more than our hovering.

“Forty-nine,” Mia said.

“What? Forty-nine?” I looked at Kizzy. “You’re a baby.”

She popped to her feet and went toe-to-toe with me in her lavender sneakers. “Who you calling a baby, Foxy?” She poked a finger in my chest. “We can go right here.”

“Enough,” Slater said equably. “He’s just feeling insecure because his last fight was a loss.”

“I am not.” Not that much.

“You shouldn’t have been fighting that night anyway. You weren’t in the zone.”

Mia glanced at me, not saying anything as she continued to jump. We both knew why I hadn’t been in the zone that night. I’d had a busted hand from a glass I’d broken during an argument with Mia, and a sore jaw from her fist after I’d gone down on her the first time.

The trajectory of our relationship was far from usual.

“That’s not important now.” Kizzy waved me off like a gnat before moving toward Mia. “You’re prepared. Aren’t you?”