Rising Hope by Edie James
9
The man grunted,pulling hard on the handles of the rowing machine. Sweat poured down the sides of his face, dripping off his chin. His feet jerked against the foot straps as he pulled himself forward, knees bent, only to surge backwards again with an explosive push. He grinned, enjoying the burn of lactic acid in his quads and shoulders.
His heart rate was pegged in the red zone. Exactly where it should be for the next six minutes. He didn’t do anything without purpose. Targeted goals led to optimal results.
Plus, he had plans for this body. The deal he had going would earn him a fortune that would last multiple lifetimes. Soon he’d be rowing across a tropical bay, the world at his fingertips. And a hundred million in his hidden bank account. The wife could have the house and the cars and the slacker offspring still living off his money three years out of college.
He was moving on. In style.
He pulled hard. Two thousand meters to go and he could hit the steam room.
Plastic squeaked against the aluminum rails of the rower to his right. He glanced up, surprised.
His partner in this last, grand venture reached for the handles of the machine next to his. “We need to talk.”
He glanced around the sparsely populated workout room. Two forty-something housewives marched along on matching elliptical trainers, their attention glued to daytime TV. An older guy worked the weight rack in the far corner. Other than that, they were alone.
“What’s up?” he asked.
His partner gave up pretending to row. “The Walker woman’s been in contact with Grayson Ames. She knows something. We need to shut her down. Good thing I’m monitoring the guy’s communications.”
Anger shot through him, spiking his heart rate even higher. His voice quavered with the effort to keep from being overheard. “How is that even possible?”
His partner gave him a strange look. “She’s a good cop. Got great instincts. I told you using her would be a risk.”
“Not why’s she snooping. Idiot. I mean how is it there’s a trail leading anywhere close to us?”
“Cool off. She hasn’t found a thing,” his partner protested, clearly angry now himself. “There isn’t anything to find. I’m just saying, I don’t like that she’s poking around.”
Okay. All right. Relief flooded him, releasing the band of stress squeezing his lungs. He bent his knees, pulling his body in toward the front of the rower and set the handles back in their holder. “Good to hear. We’re almost to the finish line. We just need to keep her from digging too deep.”
His partner surveyed the room again before speaking. “Tell me you have a plan.”
Now that it was clear no disaster loomed, impatience took over. He checked his heart rate on his watch. Falling quickly. Just one more indication of his outstanding fitness. Still, he wanted to get in his six minutes in the red zone. Time to end this.
“I’ll have her taken care of. Stop worrying.”
“But what if she finds something before we get the last shipment? It’s not likely, but everyone gets lucky once in a while.”
He grabbed the handles again. He was so tired of having to explain himself to sub-par people. “With her background, who’d believe her? Besides, what could she know? You just said there’s no trail pointing to us.”
“She makes me nervous.”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
“How?”
He flicked another glance at his heart rate. Down thirty points. The sweat on his back was cooling, chilling him, which only amped up the irritation factor. “Not your concern.”
They might be partners, but that didn’t mean he trusted the idiot. Once they had the money in hand, it would be every man for himself.
He’d cover his tracks so well, no one, including his twitchy partner, would be able to find him once their business was concluded. If anything went wrong—which it wouldn’t—this yokel would be the one locked in a Supermax cell.
Sarah Walker didn’t worry him. If she became a problem, she’d die.
“But—“ His partner continued to protest.
He cut him off. “I’ve got a plan.”
Something in his tone, or his murderous expression, made the other man back off. His partner climbed off the rower and backed away, nearly falling over the stair stepper behind him. “You better.”
Ignoring the toothless threat, he tensed his thighs and exploded backwards, waiting until his legs were fully extended before drawing the handles to his chest and leaning back, finishing the stroke. Out. In. Out. In. Before the other man made it to the doorway, he’d regained his rhythm, heart rate climbing back toward his target.
Hard work made things happen. Having the guts to make the big decisions made extraordinary things happen. The future would be his.
Two more deliveries, and he could end Sarah Walker, if need be. Either way, she would not be a problem.
Still, it might be best to distract her.
Endorphins surged through him, an added payoff for all the hard work. Morning light streamed in through the bank of windows facing the pristine pool, making the space glow with possibility.
Time to make a call.