CHAPTER 9

DAY 8

Monday

AN: I know it's the weekend and everyone is busy, but don't forget to leave a review.

I began the second week of training, weighing in at 120 pounds. I gained a pound since last week, which I considered an accomplishment since I'd been training intensively and burning calories like crazy. I guess the protein smoothies and healthy meals Finn prepared were doing their job. I was putting on muscle tone in my arms, legs, and even my stomach. It was entirely possible that I might have the beginnings of a starter six-pack.

After putting me through the weekly physical fitness test, he announced that I'd increased my sit-ups by seven and my push-ups by three. I'd also shaved fifty-one seconds from my timed two-mile run. As a bonus, he increased my daily run by half a mile. Yay me.

"The forecast has heavy rains hitting our area tomorrow through Friday," Finn said. "We'll focus on outdoor activities while we can. When the rain hits, we'll spar inside."

I breathed a heavy sigh. "I guess it's time for the obstacle course."

He gave a quick nod, and I followed him to the sideyard. We went through the course three times, and I improved a little each go around. By the time he called a halt, my shirt was wet, and sweat dripped down my forehead. I wiped the sweat away and helped Finn carry the safety mats back to the basement.

I headed to the fridge for a cold bottle of water and basked in the cool air. I wanted to crawl inside. After downing my water in two gulps, I tossed a bottle to Finn and grabbed another for me before closing the door.

"We have one more task to complete before we call it a day," he said as he handed me a military-style backpack, keeping the other one for himself. I looked at it with curiosity and dread but reached to take the pack. It slipped out of my hand and landed on the mat with a thud.

"What's in that thing? It weighs a ton."

"Ten-pound bag of sand."

"Why are you giving me a backpack with sand in it?"

"We're going on a ruck march. Strap it on." He picked up the pack and handed it to me again. This time I was prepared for the weight. I put it on, hooking the strap around my waist like he did. "Feel lucky you aren't carrying mine. It weighs fifty pounds."

My eyebrows had to be somewhere near my hairline. "Is that my goal?" I asked in disbelief.

"No. Your goal is thirty pounds, but we'll work up to that."

"How far are we going?"

"Two miles, but we'll increase the weight and distance each week until you can carry a thirty-pound pack for twelve miles." He added a couple of water bottles to our bags, and we set out.

Thirty minutes later, I thought I was going to puke. By the end of two miles, I needed a hospital bed. This shit was hard.

I thought about forgoing my usual end of day yoga session, but if I didn't, my muscles would seize up, and I'd be in a world of hurt tomorrow. I bucked up and did what was expected of me. As usual, I ended the hour on my back in the resting pose, and I couldn't have been more grateful. I wasn't even sure I could roll over, let alone get up, but I still had to shower, help with dinner, and clean up the kitchen afterward.

What kind of person willingly signs up for this torture?

DAY 10

Wednesday

I took my lunch into the living area and got comfortable on the leather couch near the fireplace. This morning's workout had been indoors because of torrential rains in the area. The rain started yesterday in the middle of our ruck march. Even though I'd been loaded down with a ten-pound bag of sand, we double-timed it back to the cabin. By then, we were drenched to the skin, and my teeth were chattering a wimpy little drumbeat.

When I finished eating, I propped my feet on the coffee table. I began reading a chapter from my book about how to hide your body language from others. The dreary day had my eyes getting heavy, but I fought the urge to snuggle in for a nap.

Finn came out of the sunroom. "Ready for sparring?"

I followed him onto the covered deck. Going down the deck stairs meant getting wet because I still refused to use the inside basement stairs. We ran for it, careful not to let our wet shoes slide on the concrete patio below. I felt terrible because it was my own stupid fault that we had to jump through these unnecessary hoops. When I'd had my panic attack that first day, I thought Finn would tell me that my fears were all in my head—mind over matter—and all that. Instead, he'd been understanding and even chose to ignore the basement stairs himself in favor of the deck stairs. I was starting to get the feeling he was all gruff and no bite.

"Today, we're going to focus on the different ways to kick your opponent," Finn said as he alternated his weight from one bare foot to the other. "You're probably familiar with the most popular type of kick already."

I smiled knowingly. Finn was talking about my signature move—a knee to the groin. I could tell he wanted to roll his eyes but managed to restrain himself… barely.

"A knee to the groin is not always the best move," he said.

"But it is satisfying." I shrugged. You can't argue with success.

"It can also piss off your attacker, causing them to do you more bodily harm than they originally intended. Instead of the groin, you could knee the attacker in the midsection or pull their shoulders or head down to meet your knee." He demonstrated the various knee kicks, then held a thick pad in front of his groin for protection. Smart guy. "Kick with your right leg ten times, then switch to the left." I did what he asked, and he seemed pleased. "Now, we'll focus on the teep."

"The teep?" "It's a kick taught in Muay Thai and other martial arts disciplines. You raise the knee and kick out with the ball of your foot into your attacker's chest, stomach, groin, or knee. You could even strike the face or neck if you're limber enough." He demonstrated each kick, then turned to the side. "By adjusting your body a few degrees, you can apply the same principle with a side kick." He turned his back to me. "It's also useful if your attacker comes up behind you. Be sure to raise your knee high enough to create some force as you kick backward. Now, it's your turn."

He held up the protective pad while I squared my shoulders and attacked. I struck him so hard that he took a step back. I was surprised at the power in my lower body. I liked these kicks… a lot.

"Don't forget to swing your lead arm," he said as I released another kick. "Can you feel the power coming from your hips?"

"Yes." It's about time these wide hips paid off.

"Don't hesitate. Commit to follow through and land that teep, hard."

I stopped long enough to wipe the sweat from my forehead. "Hips. Land the teep, hard. Swing the arm. Got it."

"Get that knee up." I corrected my form and kicked again, but he was still unsatisfied. "Focus," he yelled. This time I used all my strength, and instead of praise, he simply said, "Now, do it again, but this time harder."

I thought I would fall over from exhaustion as I went through the various kicks.

Finn checked the clock on the wall and dropped his protective pad on the mat before stepping back. Out of nowhere, he lifted his left knee like he was going to kick me. He did a hopping thing and switched legs to kick out with his right foot with so much force I could hear it slicing through the air. I dodged and nearly tripped over my feet. Lucky for me, I was out of range… barely.

"What the hell was that?" Clearly, it was a move that could kill someone. "Did you just Karate Kid me?"

He fought the urge to smile. He seemed to do more of that lately. "That was a fake teep. I made you think I was going to kick with one leg but transferred the momentum to the other leg. It's a good technique to learn and one we'll practice later in the week. We'll also add jabs and punches with the kicks."

"That sounds fun," I smiled and shook my head, unconsciously disagreeing with my statement because it did not sound fun. In fact, it sounded hard, and I was pretty sure I'd end up with many bruises.

Finn made smoothies, and I took mine out on the patio to enjoy my afternoon break. It surprised me when he sat down in a chair beside me.

I took a sip. "This is good, but it's chocolate. It can't possibly be healthy."

"It can be if you make it right." He was quiet for a while. "You've been working hard. I actually had to stay on my toes to counteract your kicks. I thought you wouldn't take training seriously, but I was wrong about you."

"I paid you $20,000," I said, stunned. "Didn't that tell you I was serious?"

"From your file, I figured you were more lip service than action."

That was unflattering. It sounded like Finn thought I was a loser. I found myself nursing hurt feelings. His opinion mattered to me. My eyes flooded with tears, and I got up to leave. I didn't want him to see me cry.

"Where are you going?"

"I just remembered I need to transfer my clothes from the washer to the dryer. I'll see you at dinner." I ran up the deck stairs and straight to the privacy of my bedroom. Tears flowed as I lay on my bed. Stupid hormones. I hadn't had a period since before Christmas. My doctor said it could be from malnutrition or a side effect of the birth control shot.

I cried myself to sleep and woke to the sounds of Finn in the kitchen. After washing my face, I went to help with dinner. We worked silently and efficiently. After a week of preparing meals together, I knew what he expected from me. I felt childish about the way I acted. He didn't know me, so why wouldn't he assume those things about me?

After we were seated on the deck with our plates in front of us, he spoke. "Why did you run off earlier?"

I pushed the rice around my plate. I hated when people saw my vulnerabilities. It made me feel weak.

"We agreed to honesty," he said. "Remember?"

"It sounded like you thought I was a loser when I got here. And I guess that hurt because I've been trying hard to change my life."

He looked out at the lake while formulating his response. I wasn't sure that boded well for me. "You're right. I didn't have a favorable opinion of you. A lot of it had to do with resentment that Jeanne called in her favor, but you've proven me wrong at every turn. I've pushed you hard, and you keep giving me one hundred percent. I respect that."

I could feel myself inflating like a balloon. It meant the world that a man like Finn believed in me. "I don't understand the purpose of some things you have me doing, but I'm grateful to learn them. I hope you don't feel like Jeanne's favor is wasted on me."

"This arrangement isn't as bad as I feared." He offered a wry smile.

"That's high praise, indeed." I tipped my head to him in a mocking salute and ate my chicken and rice with renewed vigor. "I've decided that if I can't do my job as a bounty hunter after my training is over, I'm going to quit."

"What would you do for a job?"

"I don't know. I like solving people's problems, especially if they've been unjustly treated. It sounds corny, but I can't help but take up for the underdog. I guess that goes back to my elementary school days and my archenemy."

"You have an archenemy?" he asked in disbelief.

"Doesn't everybody?" He shook his head as he tried not to laugh, so I explained. "Joyce Barnhardt has been my tormentor since kindergarten. She's spread rumors about me, called me names, and even spit in my lunch. But that was nothing compared to what she did to me as an adult. This is humiliating, and I don't know why I'm telling you this, but a few years ago, I came home early from work to find her in flagrante delicto with my husband on our new dining room table." Finn seemed a little stunned. "He's my ex now. Turns out she did me a favor, but it's the intent, you know?"

"Something tells me you've exacted a little payback over the years."

"My stun gun may have gone off accidentally a few times." I thought about the time Lula and I went after Carl Coglin. "And I won't admit to this on record, but I might have had something to do with a taxidermied beaver exploding all over her… and her house." He actually chuckled.

"Getting back to the subject. Suppose you decide not to continue as a bounty hunter. In that case, you could work in the private investigative field or as a researcher."

"It's a possibility I'm considering. What about you? Did you always want to be an FBI agent?"

He regarded me closely, and I felt a darkness come over him. He dropped his gaze to his hands, which were tightly gripping the arms of the chair. I should have been scared, but I wasn't. I was familiar with what was happening to him. He was slipping back to a time in his life that was devastating. We were intimately aware of how many monsters there were in the world. Mason Treadwell and Hunter Durant were my monsters. As a former FBI agent, Finn must have his own monsters that haunt him.

"I'm going to turn in," he said, slowly getting up as if the burden he carried was too heavy for him to bear and leaving me alone on the deck.