A group of about fifteen people, mainly males, watched the two men punch and kick each other whilst crying out encouragements and roaring profanities. She eyed them uneasily, stopping at a distance. Carr turned and signalled her to follow with his hand. She did, but hesitantly.
Straight ahead, facing the entrance and covering a quarter of the room were benches and dumbbells, scattering the area in a neat-ish formation. Unused weights were stacked in the corner, organized by size. Five men and two women were pumping iron. Jaz immediately thought of a scene from a prison gym. Even the women looked tough and intimidating; lifting weights that Jaz could never imagine lifting.
There was a boxing ring at the very back of the room, behind the wrestling match. Up there in the ring she saw two youths kick-boxing. They looked barely older than sixteen and they were kicking the shit out of each other. And refereeing the match, was Driver.
She tried to pretend she hadn't noticed him. Even though she was shouting at herself not to, she couldn't stop herself from watching him. He moved around the two boxing youths like he was dancing, his black vest dark from sweat, his powerful eyes focused. She remembered the power his gaze had held on her that day in the woods. How those eyes had studied her; had tugged at her soul and made her forget herself, the fact she was angry, and drenched from the rain. Then she remembered that he'd slept with Fraya and all her pleasant feelings died, like being shot down by a firing squad. How could he? Of all the women?
“Jaz?”
She blinked and turned to see Carr standing at the front of the mat, having to call over the cacophony of roaring spectators.
“Come over here!” He pointed to a punch bag hanging near the far wall.
She glanced back at Nik who still hadn't seen her, before she looked away and moved towards Carr.
There were at least ten punch bags altogether dangling on the right hand corner of the room, only a few feet away from the boxing ring. Jaz's unease increased tenfold as she gawked at the two men punching the life out of their own punch bags a few bags down from her. Their muscles were ripped to an impossible degree.
“Hi, Quinn, Markus,” Carr acknowledged.
Quinn, the dark-haired Were with the wavy locks and Greek complexion, gave a small gesture of greeting with his gloveless hand before attacking his bag again.
Markus bobbed his blond, crew cut head in a 'hello', his clear blue eyes regarded both Carr, and then Jaz with curious amusement. He barely stopped before he was back onto his target, uppercutting the bag so hard the chain made a loud clang.
Jaz eyed the ceiling it was hanging from, imagining it caving in any second as she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat; the butterflies in her stomach now felt like bats. She didn't like what was coming.
Carr wrapped his arm casually around the nearest bag like he would around someone's shoulder. In his other hand he was holding two red boxing gloves.
Jaz stared at them as if they were giant tarantulas.
He held them out. “Put these on.”
She peered at the people around her. It was loud and she was practically choking on the sweat, testosterone and strength in the air. “You can't be serious,” she responded in a low, petrified voice.
Carr grinned, flashing his big, pearly whites. “Put them on,” he insisted.
She slowly took them and slid her hands inside the gloves. She slipped them on fully and held them up awkwardly.
“How do they feel?”
“I dunno, like gloves?”
Carr chuckled. “Let me see.” He observed them, squeezing the top to feel where her fingers were and nodded his head in approval. “Yeah, these fit good. Okay, take them off, I'm gonna wrap you up.”
Jaz raised a brow.
He grinned. “Trust me, okay?”
She bit her lip and took them off.
Five minutes later both of her hands were bandaged. Around the wrists, thumbs, knuckles and between each finger until they were properly protected.
She thought it was unnecessary: it wasn't like she was going to break her hand from punching too hard. She knew how to defend herself- the basics anyway- but she wasn't exactly in the same league as the beef cakes a few punch bags down. She felt like an idiot.
After the gloves were on, Carr's first 'amazing' tip was to punch the bag and only the bag.
“Great advice,” she commented facetiously. He gave her a sharp look and she went a little pale.
“For now I want you to hit the bag with your most-used hand. That would be your...?”
“Right.”
“Okay, and when you hit it, hit it with your knuckles flush against the bag.” He gave her an example, with the knuckles hitting it straight on. He had a strong left hook. “If you hit it like this,” he tipped his wrist down so the knuckles weren't flush to the bag, “you can sprain your wrist and hurt yourself, okay?”
Jaz nodded. She glanced at Quinn and Markus, then towards the onlookers of the wrestling match. Her eyes stopped when her gaze landed on the edge of the boxing ring. She didn't look to see if Driver was there, or if he was watching her, but to her relief none of the others were.