(Penny)

I blamed myself. Noah blamed himself. We rode in silence in the car.

I thought we were going to his apartment, but we ended up at the gym. We parked in the back alley behind the gym and Noah stood there, staring at the ground.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Blood,” he said and pointed. “That’s Dalton’s blood.”

“I’m so sorry. I did this to you.”

I slipped my hand into his.

“No, Penny. I did this to myself. I trusted Seth too much. I fell in love with the wrong person.”

“Maybe you’ll find the right person.”

Noah looked at me. “Maybe I will.”

We went into the gym. There was a trail of blood on the floor, stopping at a wall where Dalton must have sat. Noah crouched down and made fists, biting into them. The anger and guilt was like a thick blanket covering him.

I saw a storage closet and opened it. There was a mop and bucket so I grabbed it. I filled the bucket with soap and water. I didn’t know what else to do for him. I wanted to help him. Make his pain go away. I wanted Noah to fight, win, make money, and be happy.

I stood there with the mop in the water and stared down at the white, bubbly suds. My mind scrambled to think of a way out of this. Erik had power and wasn’t afraid to show it. He had already attacked Andy. He had attacked Dalton. There wasn’t anyone else though, was there? I had no family. Noah had no family. If Erik tried to push up against Noah’s boss, he would be taking on the mob. That was too dangerous.

As I opened the door and walked back with the mop and bucket I heard the thump sound. Followed by another and another. With each thump came the rattle of a chain.

I turned and lost my breath.

Noah was shirtless, standing at a punching bag. His fists barreled forward, gloveless, hitting the bag. The bag groaned and swung as though it wanted to get away from the intense strength of Noah. As the bag swung toward him, his eyes were intense. A right sent the bag flying back again. Slowly, Noah walked left to right, hitting, ducking, growling with each powerful punch.

He finally saw me and stopped. He put his hands to his sides, his knuckles red.

“Training,” he said.

I took the mop out of the bucket and slapped it to the floor. “Cleaning.”

“Let me do that,” he said.

Christ, as if watching Noah shirtless, hitting a punching bag wasn’t sexy enough, I was going to watch Noah mop the floor, shirtless.

He grabbed the mop from me and took care of Dalton’s blood on the floor. Yeah, the reality of how dangerous this all was stirred within me, but watching the way Noah’s arms moved took that away. The cuts of stomach muscle running along the side of his body looked delicious.

I was wetter than the floor by the time he was done.

He then looked at me and asked, “Do you know how to fight?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I fought a girl once in high school.”

“Yeah?”

“She spread a rumor that I was a whore. So I fought her.”

“Was the rumor true?”

“No.”

“Did you win the fight?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know if you won a fight?” Noah asked.

“Well, we had each other’s hair and were just spinning in circles. We both got dizzy and fell to our knees. I think I scratched her face.”

Noah grinned. “Come here.”

He handed me a pair of beat up boxing gloves.

They were self-explanatory on how to put them on.

I then stood there and lifted my hands, curling my lip, trying to look tough. I swung at Noah but missed him by a mile.

He raised an eyebrow. “Start with the bag. Hit it. As hard as you can.”

I thought about the way Noah had been hitting it. Making it dance back and forth so easily.

So I faced the bag and brought a fist back. I threw it forward and expected the punching bag to do the same as when Noah hit.

That didn’t happen.

My fist hit the bag and the bag didn’t move. Instead, my hand hit and just stayed there against the punching bag. I punched with my left hand and the same thing happened. So I hit it over and over, gritting my teeth. Even with a fury of punches, I barely got the punching bag to move.

Out of breath, I turned and looked at Noah. “What the fuck are you?”

He smiled. “A fighter.”

“You’re…”

What was I going to say? You’re strong? You’re sexy? You’re amazing?

I looked around the gym.

This was where Noah came to perfect his body. Then he used his strength to fight and survive.

I threw my hands down and the boxing gloves hit the floor. I then lunged forward at Noah, jumping at him.

I needed him… more than ever.

It was time to finish what we started in his apartment.