“I’m fine. I just need to work out. Can I jump in with you guys? Sparring, I mean?”

“I don’t know if you should. You could get hurt,” Lincoln said and she gave him a jab in his stomach. Not too hard, but not too light either.

He shook his head, as Calder gave her a stern expression.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, darling,” he said and she walked to the left and took a shot at him. Calder dodged it.

“I think I’ll be the one to decide that.” And so it began.

Calder and Lincoln took turns sparring with J.J. They moved in a circular rotation and she countered most of what they threw at her. They were giving her a nice workout, but they were playing with her and taking it easy. She didn’t want easy. She wanted to rid her mind of the memories, the horrific thoughts and fears plaguing her brain. She was lost in her thoughts now, even as they sparred. It was like she was having an out-of-body experience, or her mind was divided into two parts. The one that followed the movements of her body as she sparred with Lincoln and Calder, and the part that recalled the events that led to her being here, on the run, living with danger breathing down her back.

Calder nearly swept her feet out from un

der her but she recovered and jabbed him in the side. It must have been kind of hard because he paused to look at her a moment, and then there she was again. Her mind flashed to Dexter. He was choking her. Trying to take the life from her. She remembered thinking that she was going to die, and that Dooley was going to get away with murder, killing Tara, Marlee, and Denise.

She realized that she was getting too rough. She was trying to take out her anger and aggression on Calder and Lincoln. She yanked off her sweatshirt and turned toward the long black bag. She started hitting it, punching it, kicking it. She was running on all the anger and energy she had kept up in her. The flashbacks, the pain, the fear, as she kicked that bag, lifted her thigh higher, and imagined that it was Dexter, and she was defending herself. She was going to town on it until she couldn’t go any further, and then she fell to the mat onto her knees and slammed her palms on the black padding.

She was breathing heavy, and she felt the two men behind her. Lincoln and Calder.

She looked up toward them. Calder was staring at her. Lincoln’s eyes were transfixed on her neck, and probably the bruising on her body. It looked ugly and dark. She took a deep breath and released it.

“God, I needed that. I needed to just get that out,” she said.

Lincoln squatted down next to her. He reached out and placed his fingers under her chin. He turned her face gently.

“Those look terrible. I have some cream that can help take the bruising away quicker.” His eyes darted to her cheekbone and the bruise there, and then to her eyes.

“Want to tell us how you got these?”

“You’re already in enough danger, just being around me,” she said and turned her face.

“Explain,” Calder said in a stern voice. She looked at him and his bulging muscles. At six feet four, the man was huge compared to her and especially now as he stood up straight and she was kneeling on the mat.

Slowly she started to get up. Lincoln jumped up, and then reached down to assist her. When he touched her elbow and placed a hand on her waist, she turned toward him. Her body was shaking and she felt exhausted. She was, both physically and emotionally.

“I think I overdid it,” she said, feeling her head spin. She prayed that she wouldn’t faint.

“Avoiding the order is not going to let it disappear,” Calder stated.

“Order?” she asked as Lincoln released her. He walked to the side and grabbed her a bottle of water.

“Here, drink this.” She took it from him with shaking hands and opened up the cap. She drank it, as her eyes looked at Calder over the edge of the bottle.

His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he looked like a muscle man.

“First of all, I don’t take orders from you, Calder. Secondly, I don’t need to share shit with you, unless I want to.”

His eyebrow lifted in surprise and challenge. She felt her gut clench.

“You don’t think you have to take orders from me?” he asked, stepping toward her.

She stepped toward him. “No. I don’t. You think I’m scared of you?” she asked, and then looked over his muscles, and then back up into his eyes. Those tattoos were definitely intimidating.

“You should watch your attitude around here. We don’t tolerate it.”

“Oh, really? What are you going to do about it?” she asked and stepped closer. Now they were toe to toe and she was staring up into his eyes and slightly over his huge chest.

“There’s ways of dealing with recalcitrant behavior,” Lincoln added, and when she looked toward him, surprised that he was adding to this, Calder made his move.

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