Page 14 of Breaking the Sinner

The client huffed from the bench, and the bar dipped. Cobra snapped to attention, eyeing his progress. “Elbows,” he said.

Across the weight room, Travis sauntered in. The man sucked up the air whenever he came around. Cobra could feel him strutting around the room, his eyes on Cobra and the client. Half of him craved looking at Travis with a sneer and saying, “Am I doing a good job, boss?” But Cobra had always had a problem with authority.

Travis came up to him once the client had wandered away. He propped his foot up on the bench, resting forearms against the barbell.

“How do you like it here so far, Cobra?”

The frank business talk set him back for a second. Cobra grabbed at a sweat towel, running it over the back of his neck even though he wasn’t sweating. Working here required a five-minute personal pep talk while he white-knuckled the steering wheel each morning. But he didn’t think Travis would get it. “I like it.”

Travis studied him for a second. “Yeah? What do you think about becoming a personal trainer?”

The words didn’t register for a second. Travis straightened. He had only an inch on Cobra in height, but the man’s muscle intimidated more. Cobra couldn’t help but let his gaze slide over the beefy bulk of his arms.

“I’ve never trained anyone before,” Cobra said quietly, his voice getting lost in the clank and grunts of the patrons around them. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, you start where you are.” Travis grinned. “I’ve been watching you. You already know what you’re doing. You just need to get certified.”

Cobra nodded, the back of his throat tight. Couldn’t decide on excitement or fear. “All right.”

“So here’s what we do. I’m linked up with one of the certifying institutions. What you do here with me, while you’re working here, counts toward your classes. Which means that once you’re ready, all you have to do is take the test and pass…and then you start seeing clients of your own.”

Cobra jerked his gaze to the ground. The offer was too good. He didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t say why. “Aw, shit. You make it sound easy.”

“It is. It will be for you, anyway.” Travis pushed at his shoulder. “I thought you’d be more excited about this.”

Cobra kept his face passive. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. There were plenty of things that could strip this golden-platter opportunity of its charm. “Yeah. I’m excited. It’s a big deal.”

“It is. And we can start now. I want to get you paired up. You have any friends that might be willing to work with you? Someone who needs help with something? It’ll be practice. I can check in from time to time to see how you’re doing.”

Red came to mind immediately. Item number eight on her list, not that he’d memorized it or anything. Certainly hadn’t stared at it for hours last night while he couldn’t sleep.Fix my leg.

He’d seen a gnarly scar on her knee. And that limp when she was drunk. There had to be something worth training there. Maybe he wanted the excuse to be near her. Probably already fucking up the physical trainer’s oath or whatever, but hell. He wasn’t a saint.

“Yeah, actually. The new girl here. The red-head.”

“Gen?” Travis arched a brow. “I was thinking of a more challenging client, if possible.”

“Well, she’s got this thing with her leg…” Cobra trailed off, unsure what else to say. He didn’t know shit about her, really.

“Ah, that’s right.” Travis scratched at his jaw, nodding. “I remember Amara telling me something about a car crash. Yeah, that’ll be good. I’ll get you set up, let’s say, starting next week?”

Car crash?Cobra nodded, though it felt mechanical. Something nagged at him, way down in the pit of his stomach, like a virus needling into his cells. This wouldn’t end well, but how did he know that? He jerked his chin at Travis in lieu of a goodbye as the man traipsed off.

He knew it wouldn’t end well becausenothingended well.

It wasn’t cynicism. Just facts.

Cobra picked up the sweat rag and wiped at his cool neck again. These white walls and shiny stainless-steel accents weren’t for him. Who was he kidding? He needed to get the fuck out of here while he could still keep his shit together.

He swallowed a knot, gaze moving to the far wall of windows. His beat-up Corolla was parked out there. Waiting for him to slip into those three minutes of skin-melting heat until he could get the windows down and the breeze circulating. What the hell would life be like with a new car? With an air conditioner that worked?

His stepdad’s memory came to him. The salt and pepper hair over soft, drooping eyes. As if the weight of being with Cobra’s mother had made his face bend downward. Patrick would have beat his ass if he’d come home after ditching a gig like this. He couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Not so soon.

He drew a labored breath. The air of the gym was thick with sweat and douchebags. He didn’t want to stay…but he didn’t want to go either.

Cobra grabbed a rag to wipe down some of the equipment. This, at least, was better than his last gig. Operating a car wash. Waving people onto the tire racks, helping them steer an inch to the right or an inch to the left. There weren’t many options for him in life. Not with his history. Not with his attitude.

Through the tall glass panes locking in the weight room like an invisible fence, he saw Red flit into the reception area, bright auburn tresses teetering between messy and cascading. Her shy gaze flitted his way.

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