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Just because they were made of foam didn’t mean it was easy on the hands. I wasn’t at all surprised when Cash stepped away, unwrapped his hands, and exposed just how red his knuckles had become from incessant punching.
“You’re going to wear yourself out at this rate,” I told him dryly.
“He’s beating himself up,” Red said. “I told him it was fine, but he won’t listen.”
Cash groaned. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I warned you not to.”
“Iknow. But she’s just so—” He gestured vaguely, unable to find the right words to accurately describe his torment. “I just don’t get it. She seemed to want us, too.”
Red arched a brow. “She said that?”
“Not in so many words, but I could tell. She didn’t seem too freaked out by the notion, which I’m taking as a good sign.”
“You’re mixing business with pleasure, Cash. What if this ends up biting us in the ass?”
“Your deep-seated hatred for the press is really annoying sometimes,” Cash bickered.
“At least I’m capable of thinking with my big head and not my little one.”
Behind us, the soft sound of a woman’s giggle reached our ears. The three of us turned, amazed to find Julia standing there, her purse slung over her shoulder and her fingers laced together politely in front of her.
Cash’s whole face lit up, a smile stretching across his lips as he hopped down from the ring. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Listen, about the other day—”
Julia shook her head graciously. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”
There was a lump in my throat. Was this her way of brushing everything under the rug? It wasn’t like she was being unkind, but I didn’t miss the way Cash’s expression dropped for a split second. Red, too, went stiff as a board before melting into his usual calm, stern manner.
“I see,” Cash said, his voice even. “Right.”
“Is there anything we can help you with?” Red asked.
“Actually, yes.” Julia reached into her purse to pull out her camera. “I was trying to send a mockup of the spread to my editor last night, but it turns out that my memory card was corrupted. I can’t access half the images I took. Would it be alright if I wandered around to take more pictures? It’s always better to have too many than not enough.”
“Of course,” Red replied. “I was about to ask Cash to help me with my combo work.”
“I might have to tap Dylan in,” he said. “I’ve got to ice my knee.”
I frowned. “Your knee? Is it bothering you?”
“It’s nothing serious. Just need a bit of a break. Can you take over the pads for him?”
“Sure.”
It was a bit disconcerting watching Cash walk toward the changing rooms near the back of the gym. Something was off about him. His slight limp was concerning, though I was confident that if he was in any real pain, he’d tell us. After all, the fastest way to derail a fighter’s career was letting injuries go untreated.
Red wrapped his hands, diligently slipping the cloth between each of his fingers. I stood in front of him, bracing for the force of his blows. I knew from experience this was going to be just as much of a workout for me as it was for him.
Julia stayed by the ringside, fiddling with her camera’s settings in between pressing the shutter button.
“One, three, four,” I called out.
Like lightning, Red’s fists went flying. His hits were precise and powerful, cutting through the air like a hot knife through butter. I braced against the impact, giving him as much resistance to work off of as possible.
“You’re a much better training partner than Cash,” he grunted between combos.
“Is that so? I can’t wait to tell him.”
