exercise regimen. The only vice she allowed herself, besides cars and women, was alcohol. She figured she was going to die one day, might as well let liver failure take a shot at her. “You up for some sparring?”
“Yeah, sure.” She could hear him talking to a voice in the background, decidedly female, and she chuckled. It was obvious she was interrupting some sparring already. “Give me thirty minutes and I’ll meet you there.”
“Sure thing.” She ended the call and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She cinched her collar up around her neck in a vain attempt to block the wind. “Fucking cold weather.”
She didn’t realize she’d sworn out loud until a fellow pedestrian glared at her and tried to cover her son’s ears. “Sorry.” Only she wasn’t remorseful. The kid probably heard worse in school anyway.
She crossed Michigan and headed back towards Mercy Medical. She was illegally parked in an unloading zone in front of the hospital and figured her fifteen minutes was passed being over. She increased the speed of her stride. The wind blowing off the lake was the coldest of the season, and she shivered uncontrollably.
She spotted her car and rolled her eyes at the pink ticket flapping under the wipers. She ripped it off her car and wadded it up, her irritation making her want to toss it on the ground to prove a point, but instead she shoved it in her pocket and got in her cold car. It turned over reluctantly, wanting to make a point that it didn’t want to work in this weather any more than she did. She proved her own point and sped away from the parking lot before the engine had a chance to warm up and let it whine in protest.
A half an hour later, she was strapping on gloves, waiting for her trainer to show up. She threw several blind punches in the air, feeling the muscles in her shoulders start to warm up. She moved slower in the winter, or maybe she was just getting old. Thirty-six wasn’t exactly old, but lately she felt it. The last few years had snuck up on her and a quick look in the room-length mirrors confirmed her suspicions. The wrinkles were starting to show.
She ran a finger over the laugh lines around her eyes and lifted her eyebrows, groaning at the creases on her forehead. “Ahh fuck, Gray. Don’t let one crazy redhead make you feel old.”
A loud chuckle from across the room got her attention, and she spun around to see Tony laughing at her. Tony Wozniak, or Woz to his close friends. Retired FBI, at fifty-eight, the man looked better than most guys half his age. “See what women will do to you.”
“Hey, Woz. How come it hasn’t happened to you?” Jordan smiled and punched him in the shoulder.
“Whiskey and maybe cigarettes. All the preservatives.” Tony was the father she never had. Her own father had abandoned her mother years before, and most times, unless she thought long and hard, she couldn’t even remember what he looked like. Tony had taken her under his wing long before she joined the FBI. In fact, there had been a time when she thought that maybe he and her mother might like each other.
His proclivity for women and smoking changed her mind rather quickly. Her mother, God bless her soul, didn’t need another man coming into her life and leaving just as fast.
She watched him pull on his own gloves. He punched one hand into the other to make sure they were tight then repeated the process on the other hand. “You ready, kiddo?”
Jordan nodded, her feet already dancing on the pad below her. She put her mouth guard in and waited while he did the same.
She watched his eyes, admiration in them. She was cagey and a good boxer to boot. She could feel his respect for her. Their sparring matches usually ended in some well-placed punches on both sides, but more often than not, he could still take her. She thought back to her childhood and wondered if she hadn’t wandered into this very gym twenty years ago, if her life would have taken the same course.
They danced around each other, throwing a few light punches, each feeling out their opponent. In silent agreement, they both raised their gloves and readied for the real match. She moved around him, her left hand resting just in front of her chin protectively. She jabbed with her right, and soon, she had landed several good blows to his ribcage.
He took advantage of her weak left shoulder, a result of a gunshot wound years earlier and took a poke at her unprotected jaw. She wheeled around, stunned momentarily. She shook her head, shaking off the stars.
“Come on, kiddo. Keep your left up. You gotta guard your moneymaker.” He smirked behind his glove, and she felt her blood start to boil. Jordan was competitive by nature, and she hated to lose, especially to someone twenty years her senior, whether she liked him or not.
She brought her shoulders forward. Her eyes narrowed, and she focused on the small opening above his glove. She threw a roundhouse punch to his left ear and smiled when it hit home. His head whipped sideways, and his left hand flew to his ear protectively. She jabbed at his abdomen, and when he bent forward, she threw an uppercut at his chin. He reeled backwards, his hands in front of his face, and she went at him, her fists pummeling him everywhere.
She didn’t mean to be so brutal, but the emotions from the case were flooding to the surface. She wasn’t sure how long her arms jabbed, recoiled and jabbed again, but Tony’s voice finally broke through her haze. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, kiddo. Take it easy on your old man.”
Jordan stood back and shook her head, dazed. “Sorry, old man.”
He shook it off, waiving a gloved hand dismissively. He stuck his hand under his arm and pulled his glove off then pulled his mouth guard out. “Rough day?”
She smiled sheepishly and held up her gloved hands. “Sorry, they kind of got away from me.”
Tony chuckled. “Wanna talk about it?”
Most times, when he offered, she would share whatever case she was working, and he would offer his opinion. This one she couldn’t talk about. She shook her head. “Nah, just a lot of pent-up energy.'
He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her. “Energy, huh? That's what you’re calling it these days?” He knew her well enough to know that her taste in women was very similar to his and staying tied down to one wasn’t in their blood.
Jordan laughed and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. “Guess I just need to get a few more rounds in. You up to it?”
Tony shook his head. “Can’t, kiddo. I got a date tonight.”
“Same girl I heard on the phone? Sorry about dragging you away.”
“Nah.” Now it was his turn to smile sheepishly. “New gal. Met her at my dry cleaners. She puts a hell of a crease in my pants.”
“And now, you would like to see her crease up close?” Jordan teased and was rewarded with a laugh.
“Something like that.” Tony pulled his second glove off and slapped them together on his leg. “Listen, kiddo, I’ve known you a few years now, and I can tell when something’s up your craw. If you decide you want to talk about it, I’ll be around.”
Jordan watched him walk away and waived one last time as he threw a glance over his shoulder. She listened to his steps, wishing she could talk to him about her
Instead of feeling settled and worn out from their sparring match, she felt uptight. She walked towards one of the gym’s punching bags and was just about to take out her emotions on the heavy bag when a husky voice interrupted.
“I could use a partner, if you’re up for it.”
Jordan turned and was immediately struck by the owner of the voice. She had dark eyes and even darker hair, and it struck Jordan that she was very tall. She had at least a couple of inches on Jordan, which meant she was six feet tall at least. “Sure.”
Jordan watched her approach, and her heart skipped a beat. The stranger was attractive, and if Jordan was correct, was regarding her with what she could only describe as mutual interest. Her eyes were chocolate brown, set in an angular face, framed by masses of flowing black hair.
“Thanks.”
The stranger’s voice was deep and husky, somewhat at odds with her feminine features. She looked down, concentrating on her gloves, which gave Jordan even more opportunity to study her. Her bare arms were lean and rippled with muscles. She was on the slender side, in need of a few extra pounds. Jordan could tell she was in incredible shape, though. Her eyes swept over her body, and as her eyes flicked back up to her face, she met her amused gaze.
“I usually hit the bags too, but I wanted to spar and there’s never anyone here when I come.”
Jordan shook her head, the heat finally leaving her cheeks. “Yeah, mornings are the best time here. You can usually find someone to go a few rounds.”
