Chapter 30
“H ello there.” Blonde hair, blue eyes, dimples, and a wide smile, this chick with the long torso and nice tits gives me her PR smile as I stop at the gym desk. “I’m Kit, and I can help get you signed up.”
“Hey.” I give her my most charming smile and bask in the way her eyes flicker down to my chest. This place, the Rollin On Gym, is large, but not the state-of-the-art kind you see in big cities that cater for the corporate folks that want to work out at eleven at night.
The equipment they own is high-quality and not worn away, but the building is a shed, long, but not wide.
“My name is Oliver Dunne, and I’m hoping I’ve come to the right place. ”
“You wanna fight? Lift? Yoga? We’ve got it all, so how about you fill this out.” She sets a clipboard in front of me and plops a pen down that says Montgomery Law on the side. “Give me some details, and I can help get you sorted.”
“Perfect.” I fill out my details, but I use the name I’ve known for the last fifteen years, and not the name I was born with. That name would send up too many red flags, and I can’t risk any of those in here.
“You’re twenty…” Kit leans forward to read upside-down. “Twenty-five?”
“Thereabouts.” I nod, smile, and continue writing. “I’m new to town, and this place is known all over the country. When my company transferred me over here, I can’t say I was too sad when I realized whose town I would be in.”
“Oh,” she waves me off and accepts the clipboard back after I sign. “Town belongs to all of us. Except the Turners. They don’t own shit. We just let them stay here.”
I know she’s joking, and strangely, I know who she’s joking about, but seeing as it’s an inside joke between her and the police chief, I smile and pretend that I think she’s funny. “Kincaids are known all over the country, Miss. People talk about you guys in every gym I walk into.”
“They talk of my husband, or my brother,” she insists with a kind smile. “The guys earned that reputation, they worked hard for it, but around here, we just call them stupid and tell them to sit down, lest they get big heads.”
“Keeping them humble.” I laugh. “Every man needs a woman like that in their lives. It’s how we stay on track.”
“Can’t say that’s a lie,” she agrees with a smirk. “Oh.” She reads my form and frowns. “You’re staying at the hotel?”
“Only for a couple weeks until my company gets my house sorted out. They said there’d be one when I arrived, but I dunno. Someone forgot to file paperwork somewhere. I’m not sad, though. Have you been to that hotel? It’s lush.”
She laughs. “I have, once or twice when my husband has formal functions. It sure is nice. We tend to cookout every weekend; you’re going to want a home-cooked meal at some point while staying at the hotel.”
“Oh, no–”
“Open invitation.” She grins. “When you train here, you become family. Soon you’ll be asking to drop in at the estate.
Or better yet, you’ll just turn up. Everyone does.
” She lets her eyes scan my form, and when she gets to the ‘Interests’ part, nods.
“You know weights, but you want to learn to fight.”
“Yes, ma’am. Not pro stuff, just for fitness.”
“Okay. I can hook you up.”
“You do PT, or just group classes?”
“We do both.” She writes something on the form for her own records, tosses it onto a pile of others in a tray, then comes back to me. “Which are you most interested in?”
I shrug. “Both, though I suspect private training is expensive as hell, so maybe I’ll go to classes mostly, and save up for a PT a month.”
She gives a soft laugh and leans against the desk. “You’re a fan? Which one do you want?”
I frown. “Which one what?”
“Of our fighters. If you only get one PT a month, which one are you gunning for?”
“Oh, I dunno.” I arch my neck when the sounds of sparring around the corner stop, only to be followed by a floor-shaking boom and a body hitting the canvas. “Um… maybe whoever won that bout.”
She laughs and follows my gaze, but though we can’t see anything because of a dividing wall keeping reception separate from the rest, she smiles wider, as though she knows people by the sound of their bare feet touching the mats.
“Actually, that’s a good choice. The guys are busy this month training up the guy that lost that sparring session, so maybe we should just catapult you to the top for today and let you train. ”
“Yeah?”
I run images through my mind. Aiden Kincaid. Bobby Kincaid – the world champion. Jon Hart, perhaps, or even Jack Reilly.
I’ve researched this place so much that my eyes want to bleed. But never in a million years did I expect it all to be this easy.
Wild curls made of platinum blonde hair precede the woman that comes around the corner.
Her chest lifts and falls with heaving breaths as she moves around the counter Kit stands behind, and snatches a water from the mini fridge, and when she’s halfway through chugging the bottle’s contents, she slows and focuses on the two of us that stare.
Her hands are wrapped in sweat-soaked, hot pink wraps. Her hair is tied back by a straining hair tie, and her trim body is covered in almost nothing. A sports bra that holds little double As, and booty shorts that stick to her frame and leave nothing to the imagination.
She’s only sixteen. I know that from my research, but her age isn’t the reason I have to fight my body’s natural reaction and stop my lips from curling back in disgust.
Bright blue eyes a dozen shades brighter than the pair Theo Griffin – aka Gunner Bishop – owns. But just like in Griffin, her eyes remain completely unaware.
“What?” She lowers her bottle and lets some of the liquid dribble over her chin and into her bra. She looks to her aunt. “Why is everyone staring at me?”
“Smalls. Oliver.” Kit turns to me. “Oliver, this is Smalls.”
“Smalls?” I lift a brow in question.
“Well, her name is Evelyn, but we only use that name when she’s in trouble. You can call her Evie.”
“Can he?” The arrogant teen doesn’t give a single fuck about manners as she looks me up and down. “Who is Oliver to me?”
“He’s a brand-new client,” Kit growls. She grabs Evie’s arm and squeezes hard enough to make her niece growl in return. “He wants to try us out, and when I asked who he wants for PT, he heard you knock Knox the hell out. He said that one. You’re finished now, right?”
Evie’s arrogance only seems to grow the longer Kit talks. “Yeah, Knox is a pussy. He needs to fix that gimp arm, or he won’t win.”
“That’s for your dad to decide.” Kit frowns. “And don’t say pussy. But in the meantime, Oliver needs an assessment, and you got a C on your last math test, so guess who’s up?”
Evie’s eyes narrow with rage. “I hate you a little bit.”
“No you don’t, sweetpea. You think I’m awesome. Now go. Start him on the ropes, then run him through basics. You know the drill.”
Evie’s assessing gaze comes back to me like she thinks she gets to judge me. She studies my Nikes, my shorts, and the t-shirt I picked up from a surf shop on the way to town. Then she leans closer to Kit and whispers, “Can I make him puke?”
“No! Now go, and stop being a brat. One hour. Show him the gym first, send him into the locker rooms, show him around, and then get started. We want them to come back, remember?”
“Uh… with all due respect…” I lean forward. “I can hear you guys.”
“Oh, we know,” Kit brushes me off. “It’s only fair you get to hear her attitude.
She’s gonna work you hard, so to come back a second time means you really want it.
Don’t let her bad mood get to you; she’s always like this.
But she’s good in this gym, she’s knowledgeable, and she’s gonna be our champ in a couple years. ”
“Pfft. In a couple years.” The teen snatches up a towel from a pile beneath the desk and slings it around her sweaty neck, then she grabs her water and walks toward me. “I’m already your champion, Kitkat. Show your respect for the next world champion.”
“You need to sit back down and study a little longer. What’s the point of winning twelve belts if you can’t count that high?”
“I can count.” Evie’s grumble makes her aunt smile, but the girl doesn’t slow or wait for me. She walks back the way she came, and expects me to keep up.
“Go!” Kit flicks her wrists. “I’ll have your paperwork finalized when you’re done.”
I dash away to catch up, but only make it six feet into the gym before I almost crash into Evie talking to another girl. I know that face too. I know them all. I’ve studied them all for a decade. I’ve watched these girls grow up in the news. I’ve seen their attitudes on national television.
“Alright.” Evie speaks to her cousin. “I gotta work for the next hour, but I’ll get you after.”
“You gotta work?”
“Yeah. Aunt Kit found out about my math test.”
The girl, Lucy, snickers and turns away. “Told you she would. Come find me when you’re done. I’ll probably be in the weight room.”