“Once I started fighting, the turmoil became…manageable,” he said.
“But it didn’t stop?”
He tilted his head. “Not at first. That takes time to work through and for you, it’s an ongoing thing.”
“So, how will this be helpful?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Gaining knowledge and taking back power stolen is always a good thing.”
“Are you going to start calling me greased lighting and telling me to eat lightning and crap thunder?”
Rocky smirked. “Oh, you must be feeling better since you have jokes. You know my real name is Rocco, right?”
“What? No.” She shook her head.
“Yes, very Italian. Last name is Moffa.”
“Rocco Moffa, dude, that’s straight out of a gangster flick. Now I have to know your middle name.”
“Maurizio,” he mumbled.
She smiled and bit her lip to keep from giggling.
“Shut up, you, come on.” He nodded toward the building.
Evonne slid off the bike and together, they walked across the dimly lit parking lot.
“You have a key?”
“Yeah, Mayhem owns this building. We like to have as much control over our ventures as possible,” Rocky said.
“Very smart,” she said, impressed.
“Don’t let the leather and the grease fool you, mama.”
“I’ll endeavor not to again.”
“I can tell you’re feeling better ’cause…big words.”
She huffed, secretly pleased he found her quirks endearing instead of annoying like a lot of other men she’d dated. Not that I can call what we do dating.
Rocky unlocked the front door, turned on a light and swept his arm forward. “Please enter my dojo.”
She rolled her eyes but stepped inside. “I’m not dressed for what you have in mind.”
“I have some clothes I can lend you. Some of the guys are small and wiry.” He locked the door behind them. “You stay here and I’ll turn on the lights.” He walked off and each click, followed by a pool of light, revealed more of the warehouse.
It reminded her of a school gymnasium on crack. Bright-blue mats lined the walls and the floors. A row of mirrors lined the wall farther away from her. Red and black teardrop-shaped speed bags and cylindrical punching bags were set up a few yards away. On the right side of the room there was an area of various weight machines. She expected to smell sweat, but instead a strong scent of cleanser greeted her. They took care of the space, but something very masculine tinged the air.
“Heads up,” he called. Peering up just in time, she caught the bundle of clothes Rocky tossed her way. “The locker room is around the corner. You ready to get started?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Dressed and slightly uncomfortable in the borrowed sweatpants and t-shirt with the Mayhem logo, she shifted her weight from one side to the other. She curled her toes into the mat and drank in the sight of Rocky at work. The black tank top showed off his muscular arms and the wicked sleeve on his arm that was a black-and-white mural of skulls and motorcycle parts.
“All right, let’s get you gloved.”
She followed him to an equipment area.