'Let me keep it.'
Sweat formed on his chin with frightening speed. Burning legs and burning lungs took over his mind. He glanced sideward, hoping for a letup but refusing to give up.
''If you're getting tired, don't keep going on my account,'' she said.
His breaths were deep and he began to think about whether he had capacity left. Sweat dripped onto the bike and he tried to wipe himself with a towel while he kept the pedals turning. After several minutes he dropped the towel, which meant the sweat was an uncontrolled river. Soon his breathing was tortured and then even desperate-sounding. Trying to remember the way it was, making his body like it used to be by sheer force of will, helped a little.
He looked at her again. Almost coming clear of the seat with every revolution, her body weight was barely enough to turn the pedals. There was a slight quiver in her legs. She probably rode on level eight except when she was trying to kill somebody. Now her breaths were moderately labored. He could sense that she hadn't quite counted on this level of stamina.
Blanking out everything, he focused his mind on turning the pedals, nothing else, especially not the pain that he tried to crowd behind a great wall of pride. As he began to ponder what words to use before lowering the level to three, he felt a hand on his arm.
'I'm going to level six.'
Gulping for air, he couldn't talk, so he just nodded.
Immediately he steadied himself to punch in six, and as he did so, he felt instant relief. But it was short-lived. Even six was way too hard after level twelve. He knew she could keep it up for an hour if she had to. Nausea was starting to build. Everything hurt now.
'Why don't you put it on level four?' she said. 'This is childish.'
More determined than ever, he just gasped and rode.
'All right,' she said, 'you're gonna pop. I'm going to level four.'
When he climbed off the bike after twenty-six minutes on level four, he doubled over and couldn't move. She tugged on his arm.
'Weights,' she said.
Knowing that for a couple of reps he might do big weight, he adopted an air of studied nonchalance and, after a brief warm-up, loaded the bar to 300 pounds. Everybody around the place was watching when he slid under the weight.
'OK, you've made your point. You're still a tough guy. This is ridiculous. Take off a hundred pounds.'
'Pound sand,' he said.
''You wanna be friends or not?'' There was a sharpness in her voice. 'I baited you into this. Now get out from under there.'
Angry at being told what to do, he thought for a minute. He was pretty sure he could do it if she spotted for him. Then he reviewed his priorities.
'Take off fifty pounds,' he said.
'Seventy-five, and it's a deal,' she said.
They took off the weight.
'Maybe we could call it a draw,' he said.
She nodded.
What followed was a steady barrage of ''push, push, push, and harder.' His muscle turned to jelly and every part of him shook with the effort. But he knew he was still impressive.
When they were done, and it was time to shower, she stood by him, as if pondering something.
'So what does our smart-ass farmer have to say now?'
' 'If you've acted like a donkey and you still feel like a racehorse, don't forget to thank her.' '
She smiled.
'Before I go home to my Sherlock gallery, let's go have a bite and talk,' he said. She hesitated. Unconsciously, he held his breath.
'OK,' she said.
After he showered, he went to the front lobby and sat on the leather couch, waiting. He was looking out through the glass doors and saw what looked like a familiar face and red head of hair. It was Lynette. Although he knew she worked out, he couldn't quite picture her in this place.
'Hey, you,' he said as she came through the door.
'Well, look who's here. I thought that was the Mercedes, but honestly I couldn't believe you would be here. And if you were, I thought you'd be in your truck. The Mercedes was supposed to go to the shop. You had a Saturday appointment at one o'clock.'
'Oh God.' He slapped his forehead in disbelief.
'You could still take it. They're used to you.'
'Maria is in the dressing room and we're gonna get a bite and I'm going to invite her over and she's kinda-' He waggled his hand like an airplane on a bumpy ride.
'Let me run it over. It's five minutes and I'll get one of the guys to give me a ride back here.'
'Could you?'
'Why not? I'll just be doing it next week if I don't do it now, and it's a lot farther from the office.'
Dan was looking out the window and waiting for Maria when he watched his good friend die.
Maria bent over to tie her shoes and was telling herself not to be giddy. Dan still hadn't promised to cease on the Highlands. Not one step had been taken toward a resolution and she could feel herself, despite her stubborn will, ready to keep talking to him-as opposed to shutting him off and letting him suffer. It was a fact that Dan suffered quietly but couldn't hide it. In the battle of the sexes, it was an endearing weakness.
Then the building shook and a concussive shock wave frightened her to the core. There had been a massive explosion. For a second every woman in the dressing room was dead silent. Then there was pandemonium. Instantly she thought: 'Bomb.' Then she thought 'Dan.' She ran from the dressing room, knocking into another woman. Along with a small herd of others, she came around the corner to the juice bar.
'Oh God,' she moaned when she saw him. It was after she threw her arms around him that she realized Dan was staring out the window with tears running down his face. He didn't speak. Out in the parking lot the Mercedes was blown in two. The explosion hadn't occurred until the car was pulling out of the lot onto the street in front of the club. There was an ache in Maria's heart as she watched Dan's face.
'Who?' she said.
But he didn't speak. His face shook. ''Lynette,' he finally gasped, then moved toward the door.
'No,' she said, holding him back. 'Don't go out there. Come over here.' She pulled him toward a couch facing away from the window. 'I'll bring the police here.'
'I should-'
'No, no. Trust me on this. I'll go.'
An officer came inside and took a long statement from both of them. They referred the officer to the sheriff for all the background on the Highlands when he was asked if there was a reason someone might want to kill Dan. It might be the man who had been seen at the courthouse, they explained. They understood that police sketches were being made. And finally both Dan and Maria repeated their prior suspicions of one Corey Schneider.
The officer offered Dan police protection and Dan, as she knew he would, adamantly refused.
After the officer left, Maria saw a most amazing transformation in Dan. It was as if he had gathered up the parts of his mind and put it back together, but missing a piece. It wasn't quite right, she could tell. Still he seemed calm, focused, and almost unaffected by what had just happened.
'I need to protect Nate. Could you take him to your parents'? Katie's place may not be safe. And my mother's ranch is somewhat isolated, but it would be easy for them to find him and then to take him. They wouldn't think of your mother.'
'What are you going to do?'
'I'm going into the Highlands, but I'll need your help.'
She thought for a few moments. This was crazy. But so was the grotesque pile of rubble and flesh in the parking lot.
