“I do trust you, Cruz.”Music to my ears.
As I watched Lehra walk down the hallway, her shoulders were still way too tight for my liking. If she were mine, I would have another way I could relieve her stress. I would be on my knees, and she would be loose and sated within minutes. But she’s not mine, so we’d have to go with plan B.
Lehra stared down at the pale-blue boxing gloves I’d strapped onto her and then looked back up at me. “Are we going to fight?” she asked skeptically.
“Hell no. I don’t want to get my ass kicked,” I teased. “You’re going to punch Dwight’s mother.”
Her gray eyes widened. “Trust me, I’d love to, but I don’t want to sleep on a cot and share a cell with some woman they call Hattie the Hammer.”
I busted out laughing and shook my head as I led her to a punching bag in the training gym I’d brought her to. “You’re not actually going to hither. You’re going to picture her face right here,” I drew a circle on the black leather, “and hit that.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and I caught the hint of a smile. She liked this idea. After showing Lehra how to throw a proper punch, I rounded the bag and held it.
“Ok, Tink. Let her have it.”
She pulled back her arm and hit the bag. Her form was correct, but she didn’t put any weight behind it. “Come on, Kincaid. Is that all you got?” I taunted, and her next punch was a little harder but not much.
Letting go of the bag, I walked toward her and fixed her with a scowl. “You’re supposed to be working out your frustrations, Tink, and you can’t do that with these weak-ass hits. I need you to knock the fuck outta that bag. Pour everything you’ve got into it.” Her shoulders pulled back, and she nodded. “What is Mrs. Jones’s first name?”
Lehra smirked before answering, “Bambi.”
A chuckle left my lips, and I tapped my knuckles against the bag. “Give me a good punch right here, and sayfuck you, Bambi. Can you do that for me?”
She appeared to be fighting a smile, which I planned to fully pull from her by the time we were done here. “Okay, I can do that.”
Taking my place behind the bag again, I said, “Come on, Lehra.”
I could see the fire in her eyes now as she pulled back her arm and punched the bag. “Fuck you, Bambi.”
“Good girl! Louder now.”
“Fuck you, Bambi!” Another solid punch.
“You got it, Tink. Show ’em who’s the goddamn boss.”
Her arms moved so fast, they blurred before my eyes as she threw punch after punch. I was having to put some serious muscle behind holding the bag for her, and a trickle of sweat dripped down my back.
“Fuck you, Bambi! Fuck you, Bambi! FUCK YOU, BAMBI!” she screamed as leather met leather over and over.
Lehra was breathing hard, and her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat when she finally stepped back and shook out her arms. But she was smiling. A big, upward curve of her pink lips that creased the corners of her eyes. A real, genuine smile.
Then she reared back and gave one final hit, the strongest one yet. “Fuck you, Bambi!” she sneered through gritted teeth.
That’s when we both noticed a woman with closely shorn black hair standing beside us, her eyes wide in apparent horror.
“Oh, um, my mother-in-law,” Lehra explained, “not the Disney deer.”
The woman’s mouth turned up into a smile, revealing that her canine teeth had been filed into sharp fangs. “Right on,” she said, holding out her own red boxing gloves for Lehra to pound. “Give her hell, killer.”
Lehra laughed, and it sounded so fucking good to hear that again. “I definitely will.”
The other woman leaned closer, her eyes darting side to side before whispering, “And if you need backup or an alibi or something, you just let me know. My name’s Hattie.”
Then she strolled off, leaving Lehra and I staring at each other with wide-eyed amusement on our faces.
“I say we wrap up this evening with some ice cream,” I tempted as Lehra tugged her T-shirt on over the black sports bra and tight shorts she was wearing. I was trying not to stare, but fuck, she was beautiful.
Her lips twisted to the side like she was unsure, but she nodded. “Okay.”