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I couldn’t help laughing. I liked this girl. Bravado and all. “As I said, I think my win record speaks for itself. I continue to take martial arts classes and I’m also learning the other side of it. My major is sports medicine. So yeah, maybe I’m a little unconventional. But I’ll work you hard, probably harder than you’ve ever been worked in your life. And I won’t let you walk into that cage without the skills to back up the talk. You can count on it.”
Her chin came up, inadvertently revealing more of her scar. Or maybe intentionally. She probably wore it as a badge of pride. “You don’t know what my skills are yet.”
Finished wrapping my other hand, I dropped the tape to the mat and leaped to my feet. “So why don’t you stop talking and show me?”
An hour later, she was dripping sweat and more tired than she wanted to let on. I sent her off to the showers with a promise to work up a plan for her that would get her where she wanted to go, as well as got her to agree to a day off between sessions, at least at first. She said she was months out from her injury and no longer suffering many ill effects, but I could tell from the way she was rubbing her head that she had a bitch of a headache coming on. Whether or not it had anything to do with pushing herself too hard, I wasn’t a sports medicine major for nothing. I wasn’t going to have her getting injured again on my watch.
After taking a quick shower and changing, I stopped by the office and gathered my books to head to the bar for a quickie cram session before my shift started. Vinnie’s wasn’t exactly a high-end establishment but a few hours a day there usually helped pad my wallet, especially when it came to tips. Whatever money I made went straight into my account for expenses for Mia and me. I was planning to put her name on it someday soon, make it all official-like. We still had some bumps to navigate, but I was feeling pretty good about how we’d worked things out after the situation with Crum—Evie.
A grin crossed my face as I jogged down the street in the direction of the bar. Sex might not cure all problems but it sure as hell helped make some of the shit more tolerable.
Not that it had fully worked to distract me, unfortunately. I still kept picturing that slashed heavy bag every time I closed my eyes. Sweeping up the mess hadn’t made the image fade. I hoped Mia had followed through with security and Timmins. She tended to try to handle things on her own. Something like this wasn’t a solo mission. She needed to go through the channels, because if it wasn’t a troublemaking kid, if someone had it in for her—
Or you.
I shook that off. My worry was always for Mia.
I had to trust her to handle this situation the right way. She’d said she would, and I believed her. I wasn’t going to pull a Costas trip and act like some overlord. She was a grown woman and she could take care of herself.
And when she couldn’t, I would fucking kill anyone who looked at her wrong.
I managed to fit in about half an hour of studying in the back room of the bar before it was time for my shift. It passed as it always did, with cursing on all sides from the other bartenders and patrons alike. Baseball was on the TV, Yankees versus the Sox, and the accompanying cheers and shouts were enough to make my ears bleed.
Secretly, I liked the Sox more than the Yankees. I didn’t say it in mixed company because, well, tips.
In the middle of the chaos, I almost didn’t notice the blonde. She sat near the back, in a far corner at a table of jeering men. I didn’t think she was with them. Her chair was angled away from the table, but she wasn’t looking at the TV, which was odd enough in this crowd. Not everyone was a sports fan, though you sure couldn’t tell it right now.
She had an open book in her lap and a half full beer in front of her, one she’d yet to touch while I watched. Long hair streamed down her back in a ponytail and she wore khaki shorts and a snug tank top that revealed a runner’s body.
That wasn’t why she caught my attention. She was pretty enough, if you were on the market and looking. I was not. In the melee, she stood out because she was so still and watchful. Alone and unsmiling.
I nudged Constance, the bartender at my side, and jerked my chin in the blonde’s direction. “Did you serve her? I didn’t.”
“Who?”
“Blonde at nine o’clock, reading a book.”
“Nine o’clock?” Constance snorted. “You been watching NCIS again or did we fall into a spy novel?”
Barely, I resisted a sigh. “Just answer the question.”
“No. I didn’t serve her. Must’ve been Pete or Dani.”
“Dani’s been off shift for over an hour.”
“So?”
“So I doubt she served her.”
“Maybe your girlfriend sneaked in early and started pushing drinks when we weren’t watching.” Constance continued making a Sex on the Beach for one of the more adventurous patrons. Most of our customers stuck to brew, men and women alike. We weren’t some fancy ass martini joint like the ones on every corner in Manhattan. “Speaking of girlfriends, you looking for a new one or somethin’? Because Mia will break your dick if you’re thinking of stepping out.”
I didn’t comment. Our coworkers seemed to get unholy thrills from evaluating my relationship with Mia, probably because most of the people we knew had figured we’d call it quits inside of a month. Eight months later, we were still going strong, but some people just couldn’t stop scanning for cracks. Including me.
I just wished it wasn’t so damn easy to find them.
For once, this wasn’t about us. I had a weird feeling about that spooky girl in the corner with skin pale enough to see through. And in my former profession, weird feelings were to be heeded at all costs. Anytime that little twinge behind my eye—courtesy of Costas—kicked in, I paid attention.
Right now, that twinge was in freaking overdrive.
