Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,8
the metro or all over the world, men, women, amateurs, and pros, I’m calling you to downtown Minneapolis this July to compete for twenty million dollars in prize money.
You read that right. Twenty million dollars from Strike to you.
And I’m not done yet. In addition to eight figures of cash, I’m going to be choosing one of the champions to become the next face of Strike. Your face on the posters. Your gloves framing the walls.
Strike isn’t me, not anymore.
Strike is you.
There is strength in knowing when to let something go so it can become greater than you. Fifty fucking years and I’ve finally found that strength. Now the future is up to you.
Today’s Workout (Did you think I’d forget? I’m not that old yet.)
Basic warm-up shuffle with upper body combos for five minutes.
Round kicks to the knee, waist, and shoulder. One minute cycles per side. Ten rounds with thirty seconds’ rest in between.
Fifty push-ups. You’re celebrating my birthday, too.
Repeat round with front kicks, then hold chair pose for ninety seconds.
Half mile cooldown jog and stretch.
NORA
AS RAJESH explained their vetting process for new clients, Nora pulled up the blog where Logan had announced the Strike Down tournament. It had originally posted five months ago, just after she’d joined the gym. She hadn’t read any sabotage in the content at the time, and—apart from knowing the money was gone—she couldn’t find anything alarming now. What did Gregg Abbott think his wife had done?
Gregg Abbott. Cofounder of Strike. Logan Russo’s husband. When Nora had met him, months ago and half a country away, she’d had no idea he was any of these things.
Nora sat through the rest of the meeting quietly. Like most new clients, Gregg didn’t understand why Parrish couldn’t accept the job immediately.
“We must complete the evaluation first,” Rajesh sounded apologetic, “to ensure our firm has no conflicts of interest before we begin an investigation. In the event our findings lead to any criminal or civil charges—”
“I’m not going to drag Strike’s reputation through a public trial. I just need the money back. Now.”
“Nevertheless.” Rajesh inclined his head, politely ending the debate and the meeting.
“How long will this evaluation take?” Gregg asked, rising from his chair.
“As long as we need to assure our independence,” Nora replied, drawing his attention as she moved to the door. “We’ll advise you as soon as possible. May I walk you out?”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he quickly nodded and shook hands with everyone before falling into step alongside her. As they walked back to reception, Nora caught the scent of maple and musk. He smelled as good as she remembered and he looked even better: summer gold skin, precisely shaved jaw, and amber eyes that missed nothing. He wasn’t wearing his Atticus Finch glasses and that was probably for the best.
She nodded as they passed several analysts in the corridor. “You never mentioned how you became aware of our firm, Mr. Abbott. We always ask new clients.”
He paused when they reached the foyer, glancing at the receptionist before replying. “It was on a recommendation.”
“From someone in Atlanta?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, it might have been in Atlanta.”
At least he was honest about it. The least she could do was return the favor. The elevator dinged, but instead of shaking hands and saying goodbye like she would with any other business associate, she stepped inside. As soon as the doors closed, she turned to face him.
“Let’s be clear.”
“Let’s.” He didn’t completely drop the pretense of formality, but took a step closer, narrowing the gap between them. Nora resisted the urge to back up.
“Atlanta was a one-night stand.” She didn’t blink, didn’t allow her volume or tone to change from what it had been moments ago. “It didn’t mean anything. We didn’t even exchange full names, so I have no idea how you found me here.”
“You had some business cards on the dresser in your hotel room. I took one when you were in the bathroom.”
“Why?”
He didn’t reply for a moment. His eyes softened and he swallowed. “I wanted to see you again.” Then, shaking his head. “Not like this, obviously. I didn’t know the prize money was gone until our quarterly financial review this morning, but when the accountant told me, you were the first person I thought of.”
His hand lifted, bridging the distance between them, but at that moment the elevator stopped to let in a group of people. They both pivoted to the front and stood silently for the rest of the