“SO WHAT’D I do wrong?”
Kyle glanced up from his paperwork and frowned. After yesterday’s session with Joe, it was clear to Bella she’d messed up somehow. The moment she’d established her guard, Kyle’s eyes had clouded as something like anger flashed through them. After the lesson, he’d become distant and hidden in his office the rest of the day. And he’d hardly said hello to her today. “Does anyone around here remember how to knock?” he grumbled.
“I was thinking over the drills yesterday. I did something wrong, didn’t I?” She stepped farther into his office and gripped the back of the visitor’s chair.
His gaze remained fixed on her, but she detected a slight twitch in his jaw. “You did fine. You just need practice.”
“But—”
“You did fine.” He sent her a half smile that did crazy things to her insides. “I know you’re eager to do more, and I think that’s great. Just keep conditioning. Joe’ll be in later. We’ll train then.”
Bella left unsatisfied. She was used to getting a lot more feedback, but she reminded herself yet again that this was Payette’s, not her family studio.
As the days went on, Kyle concentrated mainly on her takedowns and getting her opponent on the ground. There was a definite pattern to his coaching style, and it only got more intense as she drilled. His shouted instructions rang in her ears as she lay in bed, his demands that she move faster, watch her form and keep her guard up made her muscles twitch just as she thought she was drifting off to sleep. He was bent on perfection. And while she appreciated his tenacity, it made training tedious.
She kept her mouth shut, though. She wasn’t about to jeopardize their tentative truce. This was what she’d come to New Orleans for, after all. Every day they worked together, she got another “fine.” Maybe it was all he was willing to give.
At least her time as a trainer at Payette’s was proving successful. She’d made the classes she was teaching more challenging, and the students appreciated being pushed harder. Her reputation as fair, fun but hard-assed circulated, and a few of the bodybuilders who regularly pumped iron at Payette’s joined the classes. Kyle had been impressed and had rewarded her with a recruitment bonus.
On Wednesday evenings, the students from the Touchstone youth center came for their weekly lesson. Shawnese had slowly warmed to Bella. She no longer glared as if everyone was out to get her and even worked with her fellow classmates without hesitation. Reta was ecstatic about how much she’d opened up since she’d started the self-defense class.
It was the first week in November when Ryan showed up with a square-chinned, redheaded woman wearing an ill-cut burgundy pantsuit. She smiled broadly as she introduced herself. “Quinn Bourdain, Las Vegas Sun News. Ryan’s told me a lot about you, Ms. Fiore. I’m looking forward to interviewing you.”
Bella kept her smile fixed, but she snagged her manager’s arm in a tight grip. “Um, Ryan, can I talk to you a minute?” She pulled him aside. Kyle hadn’t arrived yet, and she had no idea how he’d react to seeing him there. “What’s going on?”
“I told you, this class for at-risk youth is PR gold. I invited Quinn here all the way from Vegas. She owes me a favor. She’s going to do a feature on you and this class you’re teaching.”
“I’m not teaching this class. Kyle is. Anyway, I don’t think it’s such a good idea. These kids haven’t given their permission.”
“We’re not filming them, and we don’t need their consent to observe. Anyhow, the article will be about you more than them. You know, local girl does good and breaks faces, too. That kind of stuff.”
She shook her head. “I’m not local. And I’m not sure Kyle will approve.”
“Approve of what?” Kyle asked as he walked into the gym. His entrance reminded Bella of a shark gliding through the water, deceptively innocuous and full of bloody intent. He looked down his nose. “Ryan.” The frost in his greeting crystalized in the air between them.
Ryan smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just the man I wanted to see. Have you met Ms. Bourdain?” He explained the reason for Quinn’s presence. Kyle took it in, lips pursed.
“I don’t know...” he began.
“C’mon, Kyle. It’d be good publicity for Payette’s, not to mention Bella. You want to make sure you associate the gym with the future women’s champ, don’t you?” He clamped his hands over Bella’s shoulders, his thick fingers digging into her flesh. Ryan jerked his chin at the gathering of young people. “It’ll be good for them, too.”
Kyle’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Ask Reta first. She’s the best judge of what’s good for these kids. Some of them might not appreciate being talked about.”
“Quinn’s a top-notch journalist,” Ryan said dismissively. “She’d never exploit someone for a story. No one who isn’t asking for it, anyhow.”
So Kyle grudgingly explained the situation to Reta, who had no problem with the reporter’s presence. Neither did the students—they seemed excited by the idea of being in the newspaper. Kyle started the class, and the students were extra attentive. To everyone’s surprise, Quinn changed into a T-shirt and trunks, took notes and snapped some pictures, before joining the class, too.
Ryan left twenty minutes into the lesson. Apparently he had better things to do than sit around and watch a client spar with a bunch of kids. Admittedly, Bella breathed a little easier without the tension stretching between her agent and her trainer. She might have been a pugilist by trade, but she’d always hated emotional cold wars.
As the class wrapped up and the kids went to get changed, Shawnese hung back. “Miss Bella, can I talk to you?”
“What’s up, Shawnese?”
She gripped her bony elbows and glanced around nervously. “I was wondering...” Her voice dropped. “Can you teach me how to stop a guy with a knife?”
Bella sucked in her cheeks. “Um...I can. But it’s not easy. The best way to get out—”
“Is to run away, yeah, so you guys keep saying. But sometimes you can’t, and I don’t want to turn my back on a knife, you know?”
She scratched her hip, a little unsure of how to handle this. “Listen, knife fighting and evading knife attacks is really advanced. It’s not like the movies. I can’t teach you everything, and you know what they say about a little knowledge.”
“I’m not trying to be Superman. Just teach me what you can.” Her voice quavered. She looked almost ready to bolt. Bella had a feeling that even if she asked, Shawnese would run away rather than explain herself. Bella couldn’t deny her request.
She gave the girl a quick demonstration, using the lessons the students had already learned in class. The young woman took it all in calmly, following along as best as she could. She was by no means weak or small, but against a knife, all opponents, no matter how skilled, were at a disadvantage.
“Shawnese, what are you doing?” Reta called from the doorway. “The bus is leaving soon. You should get changed.”
Shawnese waved her fingers at her as she left, smiling weakly. Unease rolled through Bella’s stomach.
“A little extra tutoring?” Quinn sidled up next to her, hefting her bag.
“She’s a special case.”
“Special how?”
Bella hesitated. She wasn’t about to share Shawnese’s story with the reporter. “She just wanted a few tips.”
“Well, forearmed is forewarned.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
“Depends which side of the hurting you’re on,” Quinn replied grimly.
Bella gave a wry smile. Maybe she should say something to Reta. She’d know how to handle Shawnese’s situation if there was one. Plus, it wasn’t really her business. She didn’t want to put her nose where it didn’t belong and risk losing the young woman’s trust. She’d talk with Reta later.
Bella and Quinn went to The Spot for dinner where they conducted the one-on-one interview. They sat at the bar and ate. Quinn asked questions about Bella’s background, her dreams and her current training. Bella did her best to answer them, but when it came to explaining her current relationship with the rest of the Fiore family, she glossed over a few details. Frustrated though she was with the way they’d treated her, she didn’t want to hurt Fulvio or the others.
“So how’s your relationship with Kyle Peters?” Quinn asked.
Bella nearly sucked her water down the wrong pipe. “I’m sorry?”
“Kyle. He has a reputation as a harsh taskmaster. Gets it from his father, David Peters. Has he treated you differently?”
She shifted her bottom on the suddenly too hot seat of the bar stool. “He’s been...” She tried to force out a lie. Telling a reporter she didn’t feel she was getting the best performance out of Kyle would not make him or Payette’s look good. “He’s been very good. I’ve learned a lot from him.”
Quinn watched her carefully and turned the recorder off. “Okay, totally off-the-record. How’s your relationship with Kyle, really?”
When Bella didn’t answer her right away, Quinn pressed on. “I’m not trying to write a gossip piece or anything. That’s not my style. You look like you want to say something but you’re afraid of the repercussions. I’m asking as a human being, now.” She lowered her voice. “Has he been inappropriate toward you?”
She blinked rapidly. “What? No. Why would you say that?”
Quinn fidgeted with the straw. “Rumors. He’s got a reputation when it comes to women, you know.” She paused, likely waiting for Bella to respond or ask for more details. When she did neither, Quinn shrugged. “They’re probably nothing. Forget I even said anything.”
* * *
TWO WEEKS LATER, Kyle was forced to admit that Ryan knew what he was doing with Bella’s career. Quinn Bourdain’s flattering article was syndicated in the Times-Picayune and had helped generate a lot of cold calls to the gym. People were interested in signing up for memberships and in supporting the gym’s good works with the community. And within three days of the article, he’d added a women’s self-defense class to the schedule.
Word about Payette’s was spreading.
At the health and wellness fair, which took place at a plaza mall on the northeast end of town, Bella drew a hefty crowd, signing photos and copies of Quinn’s article at the Payette’s booth. She helped with demonstrations and sparred with various members of the gym. Her looks and skills combined seemed to have converted quite a few eager young men to the sport of MMA, and a few ladies, too. They signed up a record number of new members that day.
This was how it was supposed to be, Kyle thought with a broad smile. Fun. That was something coaching and running a gym used to be before he had to worry about membership dues and customer service and budgets and getting flyers printed and circulated around the city.
He remembered the day Dominic had asked him to manage the place. It’d only been a few weeks after Dom had won the belt. Kyle couldn’t have been more honored and excited. The opportunity to run his own gym, even if it was owned by the UFF, had always been a dream of his. A chance to show everyone he was a winner beyond the podium.
He watched as Bella smilingly handed another on-the-spot sign-up over to Tito. Bella’s presence had boosted revenue and morale. The guys laughed and joked with each other more. The clients were sticking around. And no one had complained about Bella in the least. He’d been wrong to think she’d cause any trouble.
The only drawback was Ryan’s continued presence at the gym. He hung around Bella an awful lot for a guy who claimed he was a busy, important man with numerous clients. He’d even rolled up his expensive shirtsleeves and trained with her once or twice. The guy knew what he was doing, so Kyle couldn’t boot him—though he could have called him on his lack of proper gym attire.
You sure you’re not jealous? The thought echoed through his mind in his father’s voice. Dad had goaded him frequently in order to incite a reaction, make him lose focus and catch him off guard while training. David Peters had believed the constant barrage of criticism and digs built character and forced Kyle to suppress emotions that would otherwise upset his game. As far as Kyle could tell, all it had done was give him a permanent complex.
I’m not jealous, he told himself firmly. I’m concerned about Bella.
After all, she needed someone to look after her in place of her father, grandfather and brothers. Maybe that was stupidly old-fashioned, but he didn’t like to think of any woman on her own in a strange place. She needed a guiding hand. It didn’t have to be his, but he’d rather it not be Ryan’s.
“So tell me something, Coach,” Bella said as she helped disassemble the booth at the end of the day. “How is it that you’re not signing autographs or getting on the mats for these things? I mean, you’re the one with three gold medals.”
His smile was stiff. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long. You stopped competing...what, seven years ago?”
“The leg still gives me trouble sometimes,” he said. “I try not to aggravate it.”
“It was the knee, right?” She studied him carefully, probably saw that he had no difficulty lifting the folding table or squatting for boxes. “Must’ve been pretty bad.”
“I had to go in for a few surgeries, so, yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about it.
“If you’re interested, I know some exercises you could do to strengthen your knee. Marco hurt his knee a while back, too. It took a lot of rehab, but he’s walking on it fine now.”
“The problem isn’t walking.” Kyle snapped, and immediately regretted it. Bella was only trying to help him. He had no reason to bite her head off. “I’m past my prime now, is all. Wrestling or performing for anyone else...that’s not my deal anymore.” And neither was pleasing anyone else. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
She gave him a strange look but went on stripping the booth.
In the mall parking lot, Kyle went to get his car. The sky was low, the clouds boiling with an impending storm. He pulled out of the space in time to see Bella unlocking her bike from a post. The first fat drops splashed against his windshield. In seconds, the sky opened up, and the rain roared against the soft top of his convertible.
Bella stood with her bike under the plaza mall’s overhang. She stared up at the sky infuriated, as if daring it to come down and fight her. He smiled to himself. She’d probably challenge the storm cloud if it looked at her funny.
He couldn’t leave her standing there. Kyle pulled the car up next to the curb and rolled down a window. Rain splashed him violently as he stuck his head out. “Need a lift?”
“I’ll be okay,” she shouted over the storm. “It’s just a little rain. I’ll wait for it to pass.”
Thunder crashed through the sky, making them both flinch. The rain poured down harder.
“C’mon, get in.”
“But...where am I going to put my bike?”
He was about to tell her to leave it locked up at the plaza mall, but it was a nice bike, and he didn’t quite trust the neighborhood. “I’ll pop the trunk.”
He got out and wished he hadn’t. The rain fell so hard it hurt. An inch of water flooded the pavement and seeped into his sneakers. He was drenched by the time he walked around to the back of the car. Bella had finagled her hybrid in, but the trunk wouldn’t close, so they spent another few minutes bungee cording the trunk shut and making sure it was secure.
“Hurry up and get in.” He dove into the driver’s seat and they both shut their doors at the same time. Water ran off them in rivulets, dripping all over the leather interior.
Hastily, he grabbed his gym bag from the backseat and yanked out his towels and clothes. “Put these under you.”
“I’m okay, I’m not that far.”
“No, put these under you. I don’t want the seats to get ruined.”
She stared at him as if he was crazy but took the towel and slipped it under her. He did the same with his T-shirt and shorts, then buckled himself in.
“You really love this car, don’t you?” She pulled her ponytail back and looked as though she was about to wring it out. She must have seen his murderous look because she stopped.
“I’ve had this car since I was twenty-one,” he said, wiping his hands dry so he wouldn’t get the leather steering wheel grip wet. He’d have to clean and wet-vac the interior after this.
“A little present to yourself after your first gold medal win?”
His lips lifted. “A gift from my father, actually. He promised he’d buy it for me if I came home with gold, and I did.”
“Ah, I see now. It’s all sentimental value.”
“Are you kidding me? Do you know what kind of car this is?”
She glanced all around her, taking in the lines and surfaces, the sheer masculine perfection of the convertible. “It’s...an old car. With a leaking roof.” She pointed up at the drip slowly penetrating the fabric of the soft top. Kyle almost screamed.
“Start driving,” she suggested. “It’s probably a puddle gathering up top.” She poked the ceiling. Water clung to her finger and leaked down her arm.
Kyle quickly put the car into gear. She gave him directions across town to an address off Bourbon Street. The rain pounded the pavement, sending pedestrians scurrying. He was glad he’d caught Bella before she’d tried to ride home in this.
Her apartment was located above a convenience store, with an outside entrance leading onto a wraparound balcony. He helped her unload the bike and insisted on carrying it up the stairs for her.
“I can do that,” she protested. “It’s slippery on these steps.”
“Which is why I should do it. The last thing either of us needs is for you to fall and hurt yourself before your match.” He carried the bike up easily and parked it on the landing. Bella locked it to the post.
“Want to come in for a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I can get you a towel, too.”
Kyle looked down at his car in the rain. If the roof was leaking, he should drive home and get it under the carport. But part of him—the part he used to listen to a lot more—said it’d be fine, that a little water wouldn’t hurt. He’d have to get the interior cleaned anyhow, and the towels and clothes he’d left to soak up the excess water should handle any more drips. The rain seemed to be letting up, too. “Sounds good,” he said, even as his instincts told him he should be doing anything but following Bella into her lair.