Full Contact (Redemption #3)(11)
My breath catches in my throat. “Actually, I think I’ll try and fly under his radar. Ray…er…the Predator asked me to meet him here to show him some designs, and I’m pretty sure Fuzzy won’t approve.”
Rampage laughs. “He’s not gonna say no to the Predator. First night the Predator took Fuzzy’s Get Fit or Die class, he had Fuzz in a submission on the floor in the first five minutes. Didn’t like being told what to do. Earned Fuzz’s respect, which isn’t an easy thing.”
“Is the Predator here yet?” Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I still can’t believe I had the nerve to come to Redemption. But how could I not after the verbal thrashing I got from my bestie?
Last night, after scaring away the ultra-conservative, dull-as-ditchwater fireman with my tats and piercings, I called Jess. After hearing about Ray showing up at Rabid Ink, she threatened to disown me as a friend if I didn’t get my ass to Redemption. She also mentioned horrendous tortures she would inflict on me if I chickened out, most involving hiding my stash of potato chips or telling my mom about my secret piercings. In Jess’s mind, any attention is good attention, even if he’s got a girlfriend attached.
“Free weights. You can go find him if you like.” Rampage raises a curious eyebrow, and I change my mind about looking for Ray right away. Maybe I should take a few minutes to chill and relax. Get my game on.
“I think I’ll grab something to eat first. If you see him, let him know I’m in the café.”
“Sure thing.”
Taking a deep breath, I head down the main corridor toward the café, keeping a sharp lookout for Tag. The gym has undergone significant renovations over the last few years and now resembles a hi-tech military training facility. I pass the first aid room, equipment store, and a couple of workout studios before I spot Doctor Death heading my way. I contemplate pushing aside the plastic sheeting covering the entrance to what appears to be a new addition to Redemption’s already vast space, but instead manage to duck into the little café unseen. A quick check of the menu yields disappointing results. Protein shakes of all varieties made-to-order and a cooler full of healthy treats.
After I buy a wrap and the least offensive-sounding protein shake, Choco Banana Whey Blast, I squeeze into the table at the back of the café beside a tall potted palm. Unless someone is looking for me, I should be well hidden.
“Sia. I almost missed you hiding behind that tree. Come out and say hello.”
Or not.
Torment, the owner of Redemption, beckons to me from the counter. Without thinking, I leap to my feet. But then, Torment has that effect on people. He isn’t just an alpha male. He’s an über alpha. Crowds part when he walks down the street. Tables vacate when he enters a bar. He can make a man cower with the lift of his eyebrow. And in the ring…holy Hannah. It’s no wonder he’s being considered by the pros. The only person who has been able to tame him is his girlfriend, Makayla, the gym’s first aid attendant. They went through hell for each other and now nothing could tear them apart.
“You here to see Fuzz?”
Holding up my travel portfolio, I give him a terrified smile. “Actually, I’m here to give the Predator a few designs. He wanted some fresh ink. But if that’s a problem, I can meet him somewhere—”
“He’s certainly impressed with your work.” Torment snatches the portfolio from my hand and thumbs through the drawings. “All my boys are. The Predator dragged a few of them into my office this morning after I mentioned I was thinking of getting a new piece.”
I can’t imagine anyone daring to enter Torment’s office without an invitation. “Is he still alive?”
“Barely.”
“Thanks for not killing him.”
“Pleasure.” Torment drums his fingers on the counter, and sweat beads on the server’s brow. He wipes his hands on his apron and doubles his speed as he prepares Torment’s protein shake.
“Didn’t want to deprive you of a potential client,” Torment says.
“Thoughtful.” The idea of Ray hauling fighters into Torment’s office to show off their ink gives me a warm, melty feeling inside. Probably how Shayla feels when he kisses her softly, strokes her jaw with his finger, or brushes his lips over her cheek and says, “Tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure why he would do that.” I twist my ring around my finger and the little heart gleams under the light. “We’ve only met once…twice.”
“The Predator is his own beast. He keeps to himself. I don’t try to understand him. But I am impressed with your work. If you ever decide to leave Rabid Ink, come and talk to me. I have something in the works that might interest you.”
The server rushes out from behind the counter and gives Torment an apologetic smile when he hands him his shake. Torment nods and stalks away. I collapse into my chair.
Ray hasn’t shown up by the time I’ve finished my snack and I steel myself for a search of the main gym. But first, I check out the chalkboards outlining the weekly class schedule. Fuzzy is signed up to teach two classes this afternoon: Baby Boot Camp followed by Get Fit or Die. Sweet. He’ll be tied up for at least another hour and a half, and by the time he’s done, I’ll be long gone.
Pausing in the doorway, I take in the twenty-five-thousand-square-foot gym, complete with fight cages, practice rings, and a full range of cardio, weight, strength, and endurance training equipment. Grapple dummies line one wall and punching bags another. In the training area at the back, exhausted fighter wannabes drag themselves around Tag’s killer circuit while he scowls and peppers them with affectionate abuse. The air smells of stale sweat, lemon-scented disinfectant, and a hint of vinyl. Delightful.