Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) by Lavender Parker Page A

room. He was such a fucking sap sometimes, but at least it was for a good cause. He tossed his stuff in his locker and then headed back out onto the floor. He jogged up the stairs to the office, looking for Big J.
    The big man was sitting at his desk, leaned all the way back in his ancient chair, his reading glasses low on his nose and his mouth slightly open. At some point, he'd dozed off. Tate stood in the doorway for a minute, just watching the man he'd come to know as his father  start to snore. Then he banged on the door, the booming noise echoing through the whole gym. Tate smiled as Big J startled awake, his chair groaning as he jostled it.
    “What are you doing, boy? Can't you see I'm trying to work,” Big J said, awake in an instant.
    “I want to lodge a complaint,” Tate said.
    “What does this look like?” Big J said, with a deep, full body laugh. “Human resources?”
    “Hector should have to play the human punching bag every Thursday,” Tate continued, ignoring his father's joke. “He's used to getting hit in the nuts.”
    “Well, Gennifer knows not to ask him,” Big J said. “He values his life too much.” Tate stepped into the room and sat on one the vinyl chairs in front of Jimmy's desk, throwing his feet up on one of the piles of old boxing magazines. “I can't say I blame him. They can smell fear and sense weakness, you know.” Tate settled back in the chair and made himself comfortable. He wanted to put off the inevitable for as long as possible.
    “So how's life, son?” Big J said, leaning forward on his meaty elbows. “You got a girlfriend for Maria to meet yet?” Tate shrugged, his mind immediately hopping to Leah and how well the date had gone. For the first time in a long time, at least he had a prospect. But he didn't want to tell Big J that. He didn't want to jinx it. “Use your words,” Big J said, gesturing for Tate to reply.
    “Everything's fine,” he said, after a moment. And for the first time in a long time, he actually meant it.
     
    ***
     
    Shay pushed open the door to the boxing gym, not quite sure what she was expecting. She didn't even really know what she was doing there, exactly. She was being obsessive, but in a way, she didn't care. She didn't have anything better to do, after all. She stopped short in the doorway, the humid scent of sweat hitting her like a wall the minute she entered the building. She'd never been inside a boxing gym, she realized immediately, as her eyes drifted around the room. Two men stood in a ring in the center of the big open space, throwing punches like it was no big deal. Testosterone was just as heavy in the air as the scent of perspiration. Men dotted the room, lifting weights and hitting bags and jumping rope. Big men with muscles and tattoos and angry looks on their faces.
    Not much different from prison, in a way, she mused. Too much pent-up energy, finding itself coming out in physical, violent ways. It was also almost sexual in a way, she realized. Physical and sexual and primal. Suddenly, she was wondering if she'd made a mistake in coming to the gym. She was completely in her element, but also completely out of it. As she watched the men in the ring, she found herself wondering what it would be lash out in that way. She had some of her own pent-up aggression, after all. If she didn't, she wouldn't be doing whatever the hell she was doing because of Tate Grayson.
    “Are you here for the self-defense class?” a voice said, startling her out of her thoughts. Shay looked toward the voice, surprised to see a woman standing next to her. She was tall and white, with orange-red hair and wide innocent eyes. Shay involuntarily took a step back, annoyed that the woman had crept up on her. The woman cocked her head, her eyes questioning. She was wearing an expensive-looking pink tank yoga top and her arms were toned, like she spent some time punching bags just like the men. She didn't seem to feel out of place in the gritty