Page 7 of Phoenix's Redemption

His wrist was strong under my touch, though I could sense an imperfection in his tough armor. He might be guarded, but he wasn't invincible. Neither was I. As our eyes met, a current passed between us. It was charged, potent, and entirely unprofessional. I gathered my ability to speak. “Let's figure out what’s going on with this repeat injury so it won't happen again.”

"Sounds like a plan, Coach.”

The air between us buzzed with unspoken words. Or was it just me being horny all by myself? I wanted to resist the pull towards him. I was curious to know the man behind the athlete. I also wanted to know what was behind those well-fitting gym shorts.

"Good," I managed to say, my voice a little tighter and bubblier than I intended. "Let’s get started."

Liam nodded, although his eyes hinted at resistance.

We started with shadowboxing. I watched him move. His form was precise and powerful. I studied his intense focus. He threw punches into the air, combinations that spoke of years of training and instinct he picked up in the ring.

"Elbows tight, extend fully," I instructed as I circled him, watching for any sign of strain on his injured wrist. He nodded without missing a beat, adjusting his stance. Still, I could see it, the slight hesitation before each jab, the wary glances he tossed my way.

"Let's add some kicks," I suggested, moving over to the bags. I held a heavy bag steady.

He faltered for a split second, a silent question in his eyes before complied. His kicks were sharp, each one snapping against the bag with a thud that echoed through the room. Ibraced myself against the force, pushing against the weight of his blows, feeling the reverberations travel up my arms.

"Power's good, but don't sacrifice control." My voice rose over the sound of impact. "Again."

Liam's lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes narrowed with determination. Or was it annoyance? He unleashed another series of kicks, each one more controlled than the last. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breathing grew heavier. He didn't slow down. If anything, he increased the intensity, driven by more than just the need to recover.

"Take a breather," I called out after several minutes.

"I can handle it."

I knew then that this wasn't just about physical therapy or regaining what he'd lost. This was a test. He wanted to prove his strength, and I needed to demonstrate my knowledge as his trainer.

"Let’s see what you got," I agreed, giving him room. "But if you aggravate your injury, you're only setting yourself back."

He grunted his acknowledgment between strikes.

I let him continue for a while longer, until his shirt clung to him and his breath came in gasps. When I called time, he stopped, bending forward with his hands on his knees.

"Good work." My respect for his endurance was genuine. "You've got the drive, but it's not just about pushing through pain. It's about training smart."

“I know.” He straightened up. There was a flash of vulnerability in his expression, quickly masked by the usual guarded look. "Thanks."

As he walked off to grab a towel, I couldn't help but watch the way his muscles moved. "Next session, we'll work on flexibility," I called out to him. "Cool down and get some rest."

"Will do." He flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

I began to see clearly how Liam O'Connor was a man of layers and secrets. I wanted to know all about him, explore every part of him, body and mind. As I gathered my own things, preparing to leave the gym, I thought about my own guarded secrets. How would Liam react if he knew I was here for more than just his training? That I was looking for a criminal who was more dangerous than any match he’d find in a ring?

LIAM

I STOOD IN THE CORNERof the gym, watching Sophie set up for another one of our sessions together. For the past three days, she didn’t take it easy on me. I liked that about her.

The clink of weights and the thud of gloved fists against bags filled the air. My gaze lingered on her movements. I agreed to let her train me, but placing all my attention on her was a luxury I couldn't afford. Especially not with the possibility of Jack Thornton walking free.

Before and after training, I looked for him around Sunridge. Before he went to jail, he used to talk about joining one of the MMA gyms here in hopes of making it to one of the leagues. I popped into other gyms at odd hours of the day and evenings, just to make sure he didn’t make good on his intentions.

"Ready to get started?" Sophie’s voice cut through the noise around us, tugging me back to reality. Jack wasn’t here but she was, and I wanted to make the most of my time with her. Professionally and otherwise, but it didn’t seem like she was having any of that otherwise stuff.

"Let's do it," I replied, rolling my shoulders.

We began with light cardio, a run-of-the-mill warm-up. As we progressed into more specialized drills, her expertise became clear. She corrected my stance, adjusted my grip, her touch firm but not invasive. Professional. There was a fire in her eyes, adetermination that matched the pace she set. It got to me. The intensity reminded me too much of myself.

"Come on, Liam," she urged as we moved onto strength training. "Three more reps."