The Aftermath (The Hurricane, #2)(42)

“Don’t worry about it,” I told Earnshaw. “It’s sort of what Em does when someone needs comfort. She either drinks tea or makes it for someone else. We’ll break it to her that you only like coffee when you haven’t just been knocked out.” The three of us sat propped up against the ropes, Kieran drinking his tea, Earnshaw trying to focus his vision, and me waiting for Danny to come out of the office and bawl me out for taking a break.

“What the feckin’ hell is this?” I heard, and we all smiled. “Deaf, dumb, and blind, the three feckin’ stupid monkeys. You wanna sit round like a bunch of old ladies, f*ck off down the Salvation Army cafe. They’re having tea and biscuits with the pensioners today. They invited me but I told them I couldn’t take all the excitement. Watching you three train is much more relaxing. It shouldn’t be. Now move!” he barked across the ring, and we jumped to attention.

Earnshaw got up too quick, got dizzy, and fell back down, which made Danny roll his eyes and walk toward the storage cupboard, muttering all the while about the travesty that was our generation. He came back with three skipping ropes and chucked them at us. Climbing out of the ring, I nudged Earnshaw. “Change out of your trainers and put some boxing shoes on. Danny keeps a couple of spare pairs in the cupboard.”

“I’ve got my own. I’ve just never used them for jumping rope before.”

“In this country, mate, it’s called skipping,” Kieran told him.

“Skipping is for little girls. Jumping rope is for fighters,” he replied.

“Well us ‘little girls’ are gonna kick your arse.”

“Con, maybe,” Earnshaw retorted, “but not you.”

”We’ll see,” said Kieran, grinning cockily. “Danny makes every fighter, from the juniors to us, skip for hours. It teaches you how to transfer weight from foot to foot quickly and builds solid muscle.”

“Why not focus on squats like most trainers do?” he asked curiously.

“Because squats ain’t nowhere near fast enough. You need hundreds of repetitions for hours to get the sort of muscle development I’m looking for. These boys ain’t been training like this for the last few months. They’ve been training like this since the day they first walked through the doors,” Kieran said, adding his opinion into the mix.

“But squats combined with circuits and running will give you that,” Earnshaw argued. Kieran and I smirked at each other. No one argued with Danny’s training schedule.

“Skipping is fast and constant. You don’t just need strength in a fight, you need speed and efficiency. There’s a technique to skipping that will teach you to jump and bounce for hours without getting tired. You need proof, then let’s give it a go. Both my boys will outlast you skipping any day of the week,” Kieran said.

“You’re on,” he agreed, and Danny laughed. Two hours later, Earnshaw was in the bathroom, puking his guts up, when Liam called Kieran’s phone.

“Shit, man, is that serious? What does it mean for the rest of the trial? No f*cking way… Shit! Yeah, just get back here as soon as you can, okay. The shit’s gonna hit the fan, and I’m gonna need your help keeping it together.” By the end of the conversation, Kier had turned his back on us and was talking quietly into his phone.

“Okay, bye,” he said, disconnecting the call.

“Where’s Em?” he asked me, turning around.

“In the office making coffee. What’s going on?” He ignored me and jogged over to Danny.

“Go in the office with Em, turn the music up higher on the gym speakers, close the door, and keep her busy.” Danny looked at Kieran’s mobile and then at me.

“How long d’you need?”

“An hour,” he said. “Liam will be here by then. Either we’ll have it under control or we’ll get him out of here.”

My heart was beating nearly out of my chest with anxiety, trying to imagine what was going on that was so bad they’d separate me and Sunshine. Danny walked toward the office and shut the door behind him. Seconds later, the music went higher as Kieran had instructed.

“What the f*ck is going on?” I asked. Sitting in front of the ring, he ran his hand down his face. The look of utter f*cking devastation scared me.

“The judge ruled Em’s rape kit inadmissible as evidence.”

“I don’t understand, why?”

“The police officer who arrested Frank went to the hospital to check on Em. While he was there, he offered to transport the rape kit to the lab. He thought he was doing a good thing. Thought it would speed up the charges. Anyway, Frank’s solicitor claimed that his involvement after Frank’s arrest contaminated the rape kit. Judge ruled in his favor today. The jury won’t get to know the results of the kit. It’s Frank’s word against Em’s now.”

“Motherf*cker,” I screamed and grabbed the nearest thing I could find. The stool splintered and fell apart as it crashed into the wall. This wasn’t anger…this was blind f*cking rage. The motherf*cker was gonna get away with it. Em deserved to have people know the results of that kit. It shouldn’t have to be his word against hers. The kit was supposed to convict him, and now it was all on Em’s testimony.

I stood with my hands behind my head as I tried to rein it in but it was no good. There was no rationality, just the blind, f*cking inescapable urge to rip something apart. This would destroy Sunshine, and I couldn’t see that look on her face when she found out. I stared at the door of the office and was torn between embracing my rage and needing to protect her.