She stiffened. “Now look—!”
“Hold on. I’ve got an idea.” He pushed her plate toward her. “Stay here and eat. I’ll lock the door behind me. I won’t be long.”
He stood and headed out into the night.
*
By the time she finished half her chicken—rage wasn’t an appetite suppressor, she discovered—the front door was being opened. Oleg, who’d been lounging at Yardley’s feet, stood up and walked calmly to the kitchen door. Yardley followed.
Kye was back, a dusting of snow in his hair and on his shoulders. His duffel bag was slung over one shoulder, and he carried a set of big stuffed boxing pads in one hand and a pair of boxing gloves in the other. It was gear from the bunkroom gym. After hours the handlers often felt the need to blow off steam.
Grinning from ear to ear, he held up the gloves to her. “Let’s get physical, Ms. Summers.”
Yardley frowned. “You can’t be serious?”
“Damn straight, I’m serious.” He dropped his backpack on a chair and motioned her forward with an impatient hand. “You’re angry. You were ready to go the distance. I get it. Sometimes, when the fight’s over too quickly, even a professional fighter can be left high and dry with all this leftover energy he can’t shake. You need physical release. Come on, take your sweater off. Get comfortable.”
“I—uh, I don’t have on anything—”
“Oh.” He frowned for a second then tossed her the gloves. He rumbled through his backpack and came up with a sleeveless muscle shirt. “Put this on.”
Reluctantly Yardley took it with her into her room to change. It was much too big, the armholes bagging away to expose inches of her torso. She thought about putting on a sports bra, but there were bruises she didn’t want to irritate. She gathered the shirt bottom, twisted, and tied it in a knot at waist level. This time she couldn’t avoid her image in the mirror: slightly swollen eyes with an angry dark-red bruise riding her cheek. She turned from side to side until she was satisfied that she was minimally decent.
Even so, she saw the interested look Kye gave her when she returned to the living room, though he didn’t say a word. She also noticed that Oleg had joined Lily in being kenneled, separately.
Kye slipped the gloves on her and secured them tightly then stepped back and picked up the punch mitts. “Okay, you know the drill. Aim for the middle. Mark an X in your mind and throw the punch toward that X. Smash it!”
Yardley shook her head. “I feel foolish doing this here.”
“Come on. It’s just you and me. And we both know you don’t give a damn about what I think. Step forward and put your weight into the punch. Jab like you mean it.”
She took a stance, knees slightly bent, gloves up, then sized up her target and threw a punch.
“That’s right. Again. Yeah! Again, Yard.” He chuckled as he watched her. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had the gloves on.”
She shrugged, bobbing and weaving a little as she gained confidence. “I took a kickboxing course years ago. Ex-marine instructor said I punched like a girl. So I trained until I could prove him wrong.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
She smiled, remembering what she’d once liked best about him. His humor. His laughter contained irresistible infectious joy.
“Come on, now. Back to work, Ms. Summers. Give me a few more jabs. Hard! Harder! Cream puff! Girl, put your back into it! You’re fighting yourself. You’re fighting your fear. Change it up. Roundhouse kick. Make the mitt the face of that asshole who tried to get a leg over on you. There! There you go! Again. Again!”
Kye was smiling but his tone was tough, barking orders in rapid rhythm over the next few minutes.
“Do it. The left! The right! Good combination! Again. Yes! Again. That’s a beaut!”
They sparred until Yardley waved him off and collapsed on a chair, legs rubbery with sweat slicking every inch of her body. Her hair had come undone, cascading over her shoulders and into her eyes. Yet she no longer felt stiff or achy. Or wound too tight.
“Feel better?” He reached out to undo one of her gloves.
She nodded, her breath coming in quick gasps. “I feel—” She laughed. “Relieved.”
He nodded and smiled. “Anytime you need to let off steam, you come see me and we’ll go a few rounds. Anytime.”
Something changed between his other words and the last one. Anytime. Like he was there for her. Ready and willing to help. With anything. Anytime.
For a moment, while his gaze moved over her, taking in every aspect of her, she felt the warm flush of another kind of heat. Hot. Explosive, expanding her lungs and melting everything below her belly button.