Holding Strong by Lori Foster

Author:Lori Foster [Foster, Lori]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Adult, Suspense
ISBN: 9780373779611
Amazon: B00OYAXS9W
Barnesnoble: B00OYAXS9W
Goodreads: 22670226
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DENVER AND ARMIE went through some conditioning exercises together. The high school boys always bitched about jumping rope, like they thought it wasn’t macho enough or something.

Armie snorted. At the moment, with sweat soaking his spine and the waistband of his shorts, he’d love to see one of the cocky boys keep up.

“Double jumps,” he told Denver, and they both adjusted, pushing themselves through two sets of twenty until Armie called a halt.

Denver tossed the rope aside and threw a few kicks at the heavy bag, then a series of punches.

Grinning, Armie watched him. “You’re going to make Packer wish this fight never happened.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Go take a break. No reason to overtrain.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Doffing an imaginary hat, Armie said, “You know it takes a lot to get my heartbeat up.”

“Because you’re insane.” With that parting shot, Denver went to the other side of the gym where he’d left his gear.

Armie headed to a bench to fetch his own water bottle and towel. He only had a few minutes before he had to take off, and he still needed to tell Denver that he was picking up Cherry. Didn’t want to look sneaky or anything.

But then, Denver knew he usually dodged sponsors, even sponsors not solely focused on him.

He’d just finished dragging the towel over his drenched hair and hot face when the chime on the door sounded and Havoc walked in.

Seeing him did what other conditioning couldn’t: Armie’s heartbeat went haywire.

Cannon walked up to the man, shaking his hand and greeting him like a long-lost pal.

Neither of them looked his way.

What the fuck were they up to?

He had to shower before going after Cherry, but no way would he walk off now, not after that jibe of “running.” It’d look bad and—screw it.

Tossing the towel aside, Armie took a step.

“Planning a frontal attack, huh?”

He spun around on Denver. “Did you know about this?”

“About one of Cannon’s friends dropping in? No. He doesn’t run his social calendar by me.”

“Screw you, that’s not what I meant.”

“Armie.”

Shit. Holding his breath for a count of two and clearing all expression from his face, Armie turned to Dean “Havoc” Connor. And said nothing. Hell, he didn’t know what to say.

Havoc held out a hand, so Armie took it.

“Glad I could finally catch you.”

His eye twitched.

Havoc—damn him—laughed. “Bad choice of words?”

“Did you want something?”

“Yeah. Let’s start with a lack of hostility.”

To give them privacy, Denver slapped Armie’s shoulder and headed off to talk with Cannon. Traitorous bastard.

“I’m not hostile,” Armie said, sounding well beyond that namby-pamby word.

“Good. Could I have fifteen minutes?”

“Shit.” He ran a hand over his face. “Here’s the thing. I need to shower and head out.”

Havoc stood there, judging him, measuring him.

“It’s the truth.” Going for a casual vibe, he shrugged. “I’m helping a lady in distress.”

“Then pick another time.”

How about never? “I can be back here in a few hours.” He may as well get it over with.

Havoc checked the time, then nodded. “I’ll take you to dinner.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

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