Cara mckenna willing victim read online12/27/2022 ![]() It was easy to watch him through the ring’s ropes, staring past the men fighting to ogle his arms as he ran through reps with dumbbells. He finished his bag workout and headed to the far side of the gym, to the huge rack laden with free weights. Laurel set up a seat with a good open view of the ring and a fine surreptitious view of Flynn. Like she’d take her eyes off Flynn when he was stripped to the waist and kicking the tar out of something. I’ll just watch the sparring.” Yeah, right. Do you mind if I finish here? I’m kinda OCD about my routine.” “I hope you’re prepared to get your daylights fucked out, showing up promising home-cooked meals.” “Shit, from scratch?” He looked impressed then leaned in close. It’s just chicken pot pie, and I brought aluminum pie plates.” “I hope I have all the pans and things you need,” he said. “Unless you were meeting someone for dinner or something…” If that’s okay.” Her heart stopped at a sudden possibility. “I thought I’d save you some time and money and cook dinner at your place. “Some gigantic guy with a shaved head gave me the code.”įlynn spotted the grocery bag and took a step closer, giving her a deep whiff of his insanely good smell. He dropped his guard and hiked his pants up an inch, cinching the drawstring and retying it. ![]() He didn’t look at her until the third time she cleared her throat. He set the bottle down and went back to punching. When he stopped to grab a bottle of water from the floor she walked over. Laurel frowned, conjuring x-rays of fractured knuckles in her head. He’d wrapped his hands but wasn’t wearing gloves. He was working out at one of the tall leather punching bags, throwing combinations, hooks and jabs and uppercuts interspersed with blocking motions from his fists and elbows. Track pants and no shirt, same as when he fought, and, same as when he fought, his body made her weak. The fingers clutching the bag tightened as her eyes landed on Flynn. Two men sparred in the ring, wearing head gear unlike on fight nights. The place was different by day, still seedy and dingy but brightly lit, feeling like a gym for the first time. Laurel heaved the door open and stepped into the dim stairwell and that familiar cologne of sweat and Tiger Balm. The keypad was beside the heavy metal door and she entered the code. “Thanks.” She offered a smile and sidestepped him, heading down the alley. “Punch in four-nine-nine-two-two-five, then the pound key,” the guy murmured. “Sure, there’s a keypad.” He stepped close, looking around, his proximity and rather potent body odor making Laurel’s flight instincts hum a warning. “Is there some way I can get in? I’m supposed to meet him.” In two and a half hours. “Is Flynn down there?” She nodded at the building. His eyes met hers then took a brief trip down the rest of her body, wary but intrigued. “Fuck.” What sort of a shady bar wasn’t open by this time? A man emerged from the alley, a huge white guy with a shaved head and tattooed neck and a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Until she reached the bar and they promptly turned to rocks. She let the butterflies swirl in her middle, enjoying them. Flynn should be nearing the end of his training, but hopefully not so late that she’d miss watching some of it. Laurel shifted the paper grocery bag in her arms and fumbled for her phone, checking its screen. He ran his thumb over her chin and smiled. “Don’t you take any shit from any tourists.” He dropped his arm and leaned in, took her face in his hands and gave her a long, hard, tongue-less kiss, fingers shoved deep in her hair. “I’ve got training from four to six then I’ll grab some dinner and a shower, see you around eight?” ![]() “Oh um…I’m off Wednesday night again, if that works.” He wrapped his arm around his headrest and turned to her. He pulled up at her building and put the car in neutral. Laurel frowned at this sad scrap of poetry and watched the pedestrians as Flynn turned them down this street and that through the North End. “It’s like Robbie was shiny when he left, and he came back dull.” “You know when you spill, like, cleaning fluid or butane on something plastic, and it takes all the shine off it?” Flynn asked. I think it fucked him up to be over there, then to come back and see everything the same here, everybody still fuckin’ around, being idiots, pissing their lives away, after he saw whatever he did in Iraq.” Just gave more of a shit than everybody else. He always cared more about stuff than everybody else around him. He mellowed after a while, but he was always sort of…tired after that. He got shipped out, came back after a couple years, all different. Anyhow, he was in the Army Reserve and then everything went and fucked its own ass in 2001. Laurel studied his smile from the passenger seat.
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