“Anyway,” Erica continued. “I was wondering if maybe you could teach me how to fight.”
Gennifer coughed to stifle a surprised laugh. Hector shot her a look and she shrugged. She couldn't imagine the prim and proper girl anywhere near the ring.
“I know,” Erica said, looking at Gennifer. “You think I'm too skinny, right? I'm too weak.”
“I didn't say that,” Gennifer said. “If you want to fight, you can fight.”
“Good,” Erica said, turning back to Hector. “So you'll teach me?”
“He'll teach you just like he taught me,” Gennifer said with a smile, and Hector shot her another look. “Are you in the market for a nose job, Erica?”
“Ignore her, she's been hit on the head too many times,” Hector said. Erica laughed, looking between the two of them as if Gennifer was going to tell the story. Snorting out a laugh, Gennifer turned and jogged down the stairs toward the locker room, leaving Hector to explain. She needed to get back on track with her workout. She wasn't going to get hung up on Hector's love life. Besides, she doubted Erica would last longer than a week at House of Pain.
Only time would tell.
After tossing her bag in her locker, Gennifer slipped her earbuds back in and cranked her music before she headed out to the gym floor. She knew Donny would have some idiotic words for her and she preferred not to hear them. He was still bouncing around the ring, although his workout would be over soon, thankfully. Turning her back to him, she strapped on her gloves and stretched out her arms. Mikhail was still nowhere to be seen, so Gennifer put him out of her mind.
She made her way to an empty bag and squared off. She took a breath, rolled her shoulders, and hopped from foot to foot to get the blood flowing. She focused her gaze on the center of the bag and began jabbing at the point. She focused on putting more and more power behind her movements, feeling the blood rush through her muscles. She loved fighting. She loved the power she felt. She loved the rush. She loved the technique. She loved it all. She gritted her teeth to suppress a smile. She was a tough chick, but she couldn't deny the giddy happiness she felt, knowing that she was going to get a chance to prove herself in the ring finally. After all the years of arguing with Big J and stealing time in the ring here and there, she was going to kick ass at Bout It.
With or without Mikhail's help.
Breathing hard and sweating, Gennifer finally stopped when she felt someone's eyes on her. She glanced to the side, seeing Donny leaning against the ropes. But he wasn't looking at her, he was staring down at his phone. Hector and Erica were nowhere to be seen, and she wondered if the girl had even brought proper clothes to work out in. She caught Tate's eye as he finished wiping at his face with the bottom hem of his T-shirt. A handsome mix of ethnicities, Tate was almost 6'5'', with shoulders as broad as a steel beam, but he was like a big teddy bear. He had been quiet as long as Gennifer had known him, rarely speaking unless he had something absolutely important to say. He sent her a nod as he passed, running a hand through his short, dirty-blond hair. She winked at him, which earned her a smile. Tate had always been cool with her, although they weren't the closest foster kids at Big J's. She'd always been closest with Hector. For awhile, she was close to Donny, but that was neither here nor there.
“Dinner on Sunday?” Tate asked, his voice a low grumble.
“Wouldn't miss those tamales for the world,” Gennifer replied. He nodded and headed toward the locker rooms. She smiled to herself, thinking of her ever-growing family. Big Jimmy and Maria had taken her in when she was twelve, and she stayed with them until she'd aged out of the foster system. They'd helped her with college and she owed everything to them. Like Hector and Tate and a lot of the foster kids that Big J took in, she'd never really left, even after she was out of their house. They were her real family now.
Her mouth was still curved in a smile when she turned back to the bag and she found Mikhail standing there, leaning against the weight bench like he owned the place. A hot rush of excitement fluttered between her ribs.
“Who is that man?” he asked, his gray eyes sweeping her from head to toe.
“Tate,” she replied, bringing her gloved fists back up into sparring form.
“You have a lot of boyfriends,” he said, bringing himself to his full height and stretching his arms up over his head gracefully. “Why do they not train you to fight?”
“Not boyfriends. Family,” she said, punctuating the words with a whack to the bag. “And they can't train me because they're not as good as you.”
“Not as good?” He was uncomfortably close now, grabbing ahold of the bag to steady it as she pummeled it. “You flatter me. I like it.”
“I'm not flattering you. It's true.” She grunted as she punched, the newly steadied bag unrelenting. Shock waves of the impact shot through the bones of her arm.
“What about him?” Mikhail nodded toward Donny, who was still in the ring, firing off quick jabs to Mr. Bert's outstretched hands.
“You're fishing, hombre.” Gennifer couldn't suppress another smile as she steeled herself for the next shot.
“Fishing? I do not understand,” he said, his eyes shining and his teeth flashing. He knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't fooling anybody.
“Fishing for a compliment.” She rolled her eyes, switching to her left fist. “But since I'm trying to butter you up, yes. You're better than him.”
“He is younger. More hungry,” Mikhail said, his eyes searching hers. Fishing.
“You look plenty hungry to me,” Gennifer said and that earned her a genuine laugh from the Russian. She dropped her hands to her hips and cocked her head. “So let's hear it.”
“Hear what?” Amusement shone in his eyes and he scratched his chin nonchalantly.
“Are you going to train me or not?”
“Yes.” He shrugged, like his words meant nothing at all. “But like you said, it will cost you.” He stepped around the bag and into her personal space, but she didn't back down. She stared right up at him, wishing she could grow a couple of inches to meet his gaze directly. “You will have to listen to me and do what I tell you to do.”
“Okay,” Gennifer said slowly, narrowing her eyes. There had to be a catch.
“You will not want to listen, but you will.”
“Will I?”
“You will,” he said, snapping his gum.
“So that's it? You want me to listen to you?”
“I do not want to waste my time on you,” he said. “If you do not listen, it will be a waste.”
“I'm sure your time is very precious.”
“Priceless.”
“Right.” Gennifer's eyes dropped to his mouth, annoyed and excited at the same time. She'd never had a true trainer before but, like Mikhail said, she was undisciplined and she knew she needed one desperately. However, she wasn't exactly one to bend over backwards to be agreeable. She didn't like the idea of him expecting her to obey him. That shit was not gonna happen, no matter how much she wanted to win.
Damn Russian. He probably thought he already had her wrapped around his little finger.
“Gennifer,” he said, his voice low and she snapped back to attention. “You would not waste my time, would you?”
“No,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “But I better win.”
“Oh, little girl,” he said, stepping even closer. “If you do as I say, you will. Believe me, you will.”
Chapter 4
Two days later, she knew for certain she'd made a mistake.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Gennifer murmured. She stood at the edge of a big, Olympic-sized swimming pool, her arms crossed over her chest, as a half-naked Mikhail swam toward her, his big arms cutting cleanly through the blue water. It was 5:00 a.m. On a Saturday. She'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, then she'd driven an hour into Manhattan to the fancy gym in Midtown that he'd insisted on. She didn't know what she was expecting when she'd agreed to meet Mikhail for their first training session
so early on one of her precious days off. Running on a treadmill, maybe. A gym session, most likely. But swimming laps?
No way.
If that wasn't bad enough, she hadn't even had her morning latte.
He surfaced with a splash, shoving back the bug-eyed goggles that covered his face. Then he folded his arms on the side wall of the pool, smiling up at her.
“Rise and shine, little girl,” he said, drops of water beading on his face. “Where is your suit?”
“You didn't say we were swimming,” Gennifer said, glancing around.
“We train today. Swimming. Jogging. Weights.” He nodded decisively. “That is training.”
“You should have said that!” Gennifer exclaimed, her voice echoing around the big empty pool. Gennifer was a city kid, through and through. She'd learned to swim at the Bronx Y when she was eight, but as an adult, with no access to pools most of the time, she didn't even have a suit designed for actual swimming. She had several skimpy bikinis that she'd worn on trips to see her mother's family in the D.R., but that was the extent of her bathing suit collection. Besides, she wasn't a strong swimmer in the least. Not that she was going to tell Mikhail that.
“Are you wasting my time, Gennifer?” he asked, his eyes darkening. He pushed off from the wall, doing a languid backstroke towards the center of the pool as he stared at her. He was a perfect swimmer, of course. He moved in the water like it was second nature to him. Her brain was telling her she should turn right back around and go back to the Bronx. But her feet wouldn't move. He was daring her, she realized. Daring her to waste his time. She glared down at him, lips pursed. She could turn and walk away, true. But that would be admitting defeat.
Lifting her T-shirt over her head, she tossed it onto a chair against the wall. She kicked off her shoes and socks and shimmied out of her workout leggings. Tying her hair up in a messy bun at the top of her head, she marched over to the side of the pool in her black sports bra and panties. Turning her back to the Russian, she stepped down the metal pool ladder, gasping as the cool water hit her calves. Grumbling to herself, she immersed herself fully, shivering involuntarily when she felt Mikhail's hands on her hips under the water.
“Tomorrow you bring proper suit,” he said in her ear, pulling her against his bare chest.
“Tomorrow?!” Gennifer shot him a sharp look, a scowl implanting itself on her face.
“Take these,” he said, pulling his goggles over his head and handing them to her. Grumbling louder, she put them on as he dipped under the bobbing lane divider and left her alone in her own lane. Gennifer stared down the lap lane and swallowed hard. It looked miles long. It was then that she remembered how much she hated swimming. “You good?” he asked, running his hand over his bald head, sending drops of water flying.
“Yup,” she said, feeling his eyes on her as she made her way to the wall. After a moment, she sighed in resignation and got in position. She kicked off and her body cut through the water. She was rusty and it was early, so her muscles and her lungs cried out in protest as she broke the surface of the water and began to swim. She barely made it to the other side, but she didn't stop. She turned in the water and headed back, her heart pounding in her chest. The only thing that kept her going was her complete refusal to look weak in front of Mikhail. He was watching her every move, she knew.
When her palm hit the wall of the pool, she burst from the water, breathing hard. She felt like she was going to die, truth be told, but she kept herself tight and in control. Her pulse pumped and if she wasn't awake before, she surely was now. After what felt like hours, she turned her head to look at him, practically daring him to say something. Daring him to call her out on her dedication.
“Again,” was all he said, his steely eyes intent on her.
***
Mikhail slowed his pace around the reservoir in Central Park, allowing Gennifer to catch up with him. The early morning air was mild and the sun was bright in the sky. It was a perfect morning for a jog. She'd suffered through the swim but she seemed to be enjoying the run. He'd almost gone easy on her in the pool when he saw how much she hated to swim. Almost. If she wanted to win, she had to be in shape. She was out of shape, but she wasn't a quitter. Even though he was retired, he kept up his training routine everyday without fail. Gennifer was strong but she hated aerobic exercise and that would be her downfall. If she did not have stamina, she would fail in the ring. Period.
But she would keep going until she dropped. She would rather die than fail. He had learned that much about her in the short time he'd known her. She was a true fighter. Just as she caught up with him, her footfalls matching his, he sped up, leaving her in the dust. He couldn't help but smile as he heard her annoyed growl behind him. Training Gennifer was not going to be dull. He'd known it the second she'd stripped down and stepped into the pool. All of her smooth brown skin on display just for him had been almost too much. His hands itched to touch her. But he could wait.
With Gennifer, he had a feeling the wait would be worth it.
He didn't often get hung up on women. In fact, he never did. His mind was usually on other things. But Gennifer fascinated him. He didn't know how long it would last, but he was interested in how it would pan out. Perhaps, after they fucked, the mystery would be solved and he would go on about his life. Perhaps Gennifer was a passing infatuation, like he used to have on girls in school. A bit of hair pulling and she would be out of his system. Perhaps.
Only time would tell.
He heard her speeding up behind him, her feet pounding out a fast rhythm. Grinning, he let her chase him, knowing that she would probably be dead on her feet and useless to him afterwards, but her competitiveness was... cute. He took a right and ran up a slight hill, heading up a small trail toward the reservoir. He'd been running in Central Park every day since he'd moved to New York and he knew it like the back of his hand. She followed him and he resisted the urge to glance back at her, even though he wanted to. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face and between his shoulder blades. He glanced up at the sun-filled sky and realized he felt alive. His daily routine was completely disrupted and normally he hated that, but today, he felt good. He felt better than he had in awhile, in fact. He slowed and couldn't stop himself from looking back at her.
She jogged up the trail, her long legs crossing the distance between them in no time. She dipped her head under a tree branch and moved through a swath of sunlight. The light illuminated her face in a beautiful way. For a minute, he could only stare at her. A rare smile crossed her lips as she neared him and he let out a ragged breath. There was something about her. Something that wouldn't let him look away. She took advantage and sped past him, her scent curling around him on the breeze. He reached out for her, but he was too slow and she slipped right through his fingers.
She tossed her head back and laughed, a genuine laugh that caught him off guard. Then she was gone, disappearing around a bend in the trail. He had no choice but to follow her, but he cut down a side path on his right and picked up his pace. Adrenaline shot through him as he caught a glimpse of her through the greenery. Chuckling to himself, he pushed himself harder, his muscles straining. She didn't see him until it was too late. He cut her off at the fork and caught her around the waist. He hauled her off her feet and her surprised shriek echoed through the trees. She wriggled against him, kicking her legs and throwing her elbows, but he held fast.
“I win,” he said, his lips pressed against her ear. The breeze blew her hair in his face and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“You are such a cheater!” she managed to get out through her short breaths.
“You are out of shape,” he said, laughing. “Not my fault.” Her bare stomach was slick with sweat and the more she squirmed, the more she slipped in his arms. Suddenly, he was very aware that her luscious ass was smashed against him and her tits were brushing against his arms. Not the worst way to spend a Saturday, he wagered.
“I am not out of shape,” sh
e threw over her shoulder.
“You won't be when I get done with you,” he murmured, resisting the urge to drag his teeth across her salty skin. As if sensing the change in him, she stopped squirming and turned her face to look at him.
“I think you've made your point,” she said and he set her on her feet, reluctantly. She took a step away from him but he pulled her back against his chest.
“What point am I making?” he asked.
“That you're stronger and faster than me.”
“Wrong.” He shook his head. “I am your trainer. Do not bother trying to beat me. It is pointless,” he said, raising his hand to run his finger along the curve of her neck, brushing away the soft curl of her hair that rested there. “I am here for you. Trust me.” He heard her breath catch and he took a step back, letting her go. She turned to face him, the dappled light playing across her features. She was scowling again, but he was used to that. Her eyes flashed with fiery anger. Sweat dotted her brow and her chest rose and fell with every breath. In the summer sun, she looked just as alive as he felt.
His eyes dropped to her lips. There was still a small bruise on her bottom lip from their sparring match. He wondered how it would feel to kiss her, to touch his mouth to hers. He wondered how her arms would feel around his neck and her tongue would feel against his tongue. He wondered how her dark hair would look spread out on his pillow and how her smooth brown legs would look wrapped in his white sheets.
In that split second, he wondered a lot of things.
The moment passed.
“Come,” he said. Turning, he jogged off, continuing down the wooded path. For once, he wasn't sure he knew where it was leading him.
***
“Hands up,” Mikhail ordered and Gennifer seriously considered punching him in the face. Her shoulders ached from swimming and her thighs ached from jogging. The only thing she wanted to do was lay flat on the grass and pass out. It was a beautiful day in the park and she wished she could enjoy it. Unfortunately, the Russian was not going to let her do that. Now or ever. So she lifted her hands and got in fighting stance because she was a glutton for punishment. “You are slouching,” he said, and she could've sworn she saw glee dancing behind his dark eyes. With a groan, she pushed her shoulders back, ignoring the cry of her muscles. “Good. Now jab.”
Stone Cold Knockout Page 4
