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I grin and tuck my bag to my side. “You know that gym on Twenty-Fifth and Third?”
“Do I know that gym…” he mutters under his breath. He’s smiling, though. “Yes, I do happen to know the Chekhov fitness fortress.”
“That’s where I’m going.”
Both brows hit his hairline. He looks at me in the rearview mirror, then turns around to look at me face to face. “You serious?”
“Dead serious. I’ve been training with Sofiya. She’s just running late today.”
“How long?”
I shrug. “A few weeks, I think? It’s been good for me. Really good.”
Lev mutters something in Russian and shakes his head, but, as shaky as my grasp on his native tongue still is, I’m pretty sure he’s on board.
He does insist on escorting me inside once we arrive. “I have a price for my silence. I gotta see this,” is his explanation as we enter.
I stash my things in the women’s locker room and take a few deep breaths. Usually, Sofi is here to distract my mind from the upcoming self-imposed physical torture. This is my first time starting out on my own.
I can do this, I remind myself. I’m made of tough stuff.
The elliptical is easy enough. I love the even flow and minimal impact on my knees. It also helps me warm up and get into the swing of things—pun intended—before Sofi makes me kick my own ass with the weights and shadowboxing.
No sooner does that thought cross my mind than does a familiar head of hair pop up in front of me.
Think of the Devil and she shall appear…
Sofi grins and waves at me from the front desk. “Be right there!”
I pick up the pace and increase the machine’s resistance by a few notches. I’d prefer to be done with the cardio section before she changes into her gear. Lord knows if she gets her hands on these controls, I’m gonna die.
I think she’s onto my little scheme, though. As she passes by on her way to change in the locker room, she bumps the speed up.
I’ve got one foot in the grave by the time she returns, hair tied up in a neat braid, and asks, “Good to go?”
I flash her a weary thumbs-up. “Never been… Fucking hell, I can’t breathe… Never been better.”
“Awesome. Let’s stretch.”
Lev keeps a respectful distance as we warm up, but I catch him glancing our way now and then, a tiny smile threatening his otherwise stoic facade.
It’s when we get to the shadow boxing portion that I’m thrown for a loop.
“Alright. Time to up the stakes.” Sofi gestures for me to hold out my hands, then starts wrapping some bandage-looking fabric around my wrists and fingers. “No more shadows.”
“Huh?”
“This is fighting tape. As good as gloves for what we’re doing.”
“Which is…?”
She flashes that impish grin at me again. “Sparring.”
Shit.
She leads me to the area reserved for sparring, which I have seen several of the other guys do during our past workouts. I always thought it looked cool, but mostly in the way I think, like, motorcycles look cool. As in, You’d have to be insane to try that.
I guess my sister-in-law qualifies.
