Page 48 of Love Undercover
With a grunt, he flung himself to his feet, running through the tires forward, backward, sideways, and again. Over and over.
He remembered his dad screaming at him during these drills as a teen, when he was scrawny from growing too quickly. He’d pound calories, but he’d grown handfuls of inches in as many months, struggling with energy, with pains in his legs, earning stretch marks like tiger stripes along his back.
His dad always had a hard edge, and he’d been a competitive man. He wanted to use Chase’s height to an advantage, pushing him to join basketball, to win, to be the best. He supposed he owed it to the old asshole that he’d earned a scholarship through his efforts. That came in handy since his dad was in prison by the time he graduated high school.
Sadie had only gone there that one year, and he wondered if she’d heard about all of that, if she knew of his personal ties to crime. She, of course, wouldn’t know the reason he was able to insert himself so easily into that world was because of his dad.
At least Chase knew he was taking the poison of his father’s decisions and turning it for good, even if he himself couldn’t be entirely good in the process. A means to an end. Do what you have to if it means you get the worse guy. That was his blank check from the feds. Though Chase tried to toe a line that he’d drawn for himself, knowing that he could easily go too far to bring himself back, the world in which he operated dealt him a lot of gray.
Kidnapping to keep someone safe definitely fell into the gray category, and the familiar twist of uncertainty about it churned in his core. Sadie had come around, of course. She’d shown the level of trust she’d placed in him, and he wasn’t sure he deserved it. Sure, he worked for the good guys—ultimately—but he had done a lot of questionable things to earn the respect of the bad guys. And while that had given him pause at times, his knowledge that it was for the greater good kept him from seeing his actions for what they were.
Until now. When there was a woman—one whose life had been entangled unfairly in the mess. And admittedly one he was finding himself wanting for more than just the time it would take to get the answers he needed to close this case.
And that was bad. So very bad.
He stalked toward the garage, flinging the door open so that it banged against the wall, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even bother to shut it. Just walked to the hooks on the wall where his boxing gloves dangled. Instead of putting them on, he grabbed his hand wraps, jerking the straps around with barely contained aggression. He might regret the pain later, but he wanted to feel the bite and sting as he imagined Travers’s face on the bag.
He threw out a few phantom punches to limber himself up, already feeling the tingle in his muscles from his efforts outside, then planted his feet for a moment, eyeing the bag with a baleful glare.
It was like slow motion when the nerves in his body ignited, telling his weight to lift to the balls of his feet as he shuffled forward, locking his core.
He stepped forward, using the momentum to twist his body—hips followed by shoulders—throwing all of his strength and rage into his arm as it flew. A sigh burst through his lips with the release of pressure inside of him, the energy leaking out like the bag sucked it from his body.
Taking the lightness it created in him and letting it run rampant, he laid into the bag with a succession of rapid-fire jabs and hooks, grunting with each strike. He felt it when his knuckles split, little slices of pain making him grit his teeth, though he had that odd sense of satisfaction he’d known would come.
“Strike from your core, kid.“ His dad’s voice played in his head, rough and gravelly, edged with frustration, always.
“This is not what I was expecting to find out here.”
Chase jerked, missing the bag completely, and nearly fell into it before he whirled to face Sadie in the open doorway. Almost all of his rage had burned down to ash, and his stomach dropped out just looking at her. The way the late morning sun illuminated her from behind, limning her in golden light, stole the few rational thoughts from his mind.
Her eyes were wide as she took in his expression, and the only sound that filled the silence between them was the air jerking in and out of him and the chain that was secured to a beam in the ceiling jangling as it swung back and forth.
He caught the bag to stop its swinging and swiped at the sweat on his forehead.
“Your hands are bleeding,” Sadie said.
He puffed at the air again, his muscles screaming from exertion, and looked down at his left hand. Sure enough, red was seeping into the white wraps.
“Isn’t that why you’re supposed to use gloves?” Her gaze went to the unused gloves on the wall.
He shrugged, still unable to catch his breath enough to speak.
She tentatively moved into the garage, the glowing sunlight sliding off of her as the shadows devoured every curve of her body, and he swallowed. He might need to punch some more.
“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” she said, her eyes traveling the space, taking in the indoor workout equipment in the corner, the car on the other half of the garage, the yard tools that hung from the wall, the workbench and toolbox.
Everything he needed to care for this secluded house in the trees. The one that was no longer safe. He could barely make out the trees through the door. No dust. His assumption about nightfall still held, but he needed to get moving on the plan.
“It’s fine. I was almost done,” he finally managed, looking at her.
She turned her attention to him, gaze tracing his shirtless form. Exercising in jeans hadn’t been his smartest move, but judging by the expression on her face, it wasn’t his worst look. The stifling garage had wrung him out like a sponge, coating him in a layer of sweat. He’d have to pound water after this.
Impromptu workout sessions could do that. So could blazing fury.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was softer, genuine concern infusing her tone and making his stomach clench.
But his response was automatic, even if not totally true. “I’m fine.”
