Should he call her? It was still early and he hoped she was sleeping back at Chuck and Shirl’s. He pulled out his cell phone, punched in her number. His thumb hovered over the Send button for a moment before he flipped the phone shut. He ached to hear her voice again but didn’t know what he would say. “I love you but I want to kill you. I want to be with you but I have no life to offer you.” What a fucking catch he was.
He pressed Send anyway and clicked his earpiece. He had to hear the spirited lilt of her voice again, even if she was frightened of him. Or angry with him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and clicked the wireless earpiece. It rang once and his heart tumbled in his rib cage. Twice and his scalp prickled with sweat. Three times and it went to voice mail. He listened to her whole message, letting the sound of her voice echo inside him, then hung up without leaving one of his own.
She deserved far better than anything he had to offer. He was an idiot to even contemplate a future.
After going through security, he took the stairs down to the field office two at a time. Changing out of his street clothes, he slipped on his favorite set of gloves and pummeled a punching bag until rivulets of sweat stung his eyes and blurred his vision. After a quick swipe with a towel, he grabbed a pair of wooden knives and worked the knife dummy, thrusting and twisting until his muscles screamed in protest. And then he did it all over again.
LILY HAD BEEN Looking forward to her daily run on the treadmill before turning in for the day, but when she pushed open the double doors to the gym and heard familiar, yet very irritating music screeching through the speakers, she knew her mindless 5K probably wasn’t going to happen. It had to be Dom. Why was he back so soon? She’d figured he’d be gone for another day or two—even if he had received her text message about what they’d found at the Darkblood den. Must not have gone well with the woman last night.
On the far side of the boxing ring, amidst a row of speed bags and heavy bags, she saw him. He was beating the crap out of a punching bag like an experienced fighter—an experienced, pissed-off fighter—dipping his head to avoid invisible fists as the balls of his feet danced on the mats. Faster, much faster than the tempo of his horrible music. His pace picked up as she approached, as if he were telling her to stay away and didn’t want to talk.
She scrutinized his hooded eyes and saw that his olive complexion looked even darker with the stubble on his chin. Holy shit. Had he drained the woman? Lifting her nose in the air, Lily casually sniffed. Just the same hint of Sweet she’d smelled back at the bar, maybe a tiny bit more, but definitely not a killing amount—thank goodness.
“I’m surprised to see you here, but then who else could be playing this kind of garbage?” She waited but got no response. She’d have to try something else. “In the mood to grapple, love?”
Wiping the sweat from his face with his shoulder, he grunted something and continued punching.
“I was going to log a few kilometers on the treadmill before calling it a day, but it looks like you could use some horizontal work on the mats. A little BJJ then a BJ?”
“Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and a blow job? Shit, Lily, go away.”
Didn’t that at least warrant a smile from him? Guess not. “Where’s, uh…Mackenzie. Everything okay?”
“On the island.”
Chuck and Shirl’s. Good. She’d be safe there, Chuck would see to that. He may be retired from the Agency, but he was still more than capable.
Dom grabbed a pair of wooden knives and the dizzying sound of repetitive clattering echoed above the music. Given what had happened last night with those two Darkbloods, the woman was probably safer on the island right now than she’d be in the Seattle area anyway.
Lily climbed onto her favorite treadmill and put in her ear buds as the belt slowly gained speed. What music could she play to drown out this crap? Before she could select a playlist, she heard a crash, then saw the wooden dummy fly across the room. Whoa.