Chapter Three

SOPHIE

O ne week later

I arrived at Warrior’s Den. Even at seven in the morning, the MMA training facility was busy with fighters and their teams training. I felt their spirit of determination as I scanned my ID badge and entered the weight room.

Liam was already loosening up on the mats. He was in the middle of a workout, every muscle in his tall, muscular frame rippling with power and precision. His dark hair was damp with sweat. As I watched, a wave of attraction bubbled up inside me, catching me off guard. It had to be a sin for a man to be this attractive.

I quickly shoved my feelings aside. I had a job to do, and the last thing I needed was a distraction, no matter how tall and tempting he might be.

"Good morning, Liam. Let's see your wrist." I motioned with a finger.

"I’m good. I’ve been doing exercises all morning," he grumbled as I took his hand gently in mine. His skin was warm, roughened from countless fights, and as I manipulated his wrist, checking for mobility, I could feel the strength coiled in his muscles.

"This isn't the first time I've sprained it." He watched me closely, his gaze tracking the movement of my hands.

My heart raced so fast I was certain he could feel my pulse through my fingertips. "Then that means you're doing something to keep injuring it. " My words came out breathier than I intended, far from the clinical detachment I aimed for.

His wrist was strong under my touch, though I could sense an imperfection in his tough armor. He might be guarded, but he wasn't invincible. Neither was I. As our eyes met, a current passed between us. It was charged, potent, and entirely unprofessional. I gathered my ability to speak. “Let's figure out what’s going on with this repeat injury so it won't happen again.”

"Sounds like a plan, Coach.”

The air between us buzzed with unspoken words. Or was it just me being horny all by myself? I wanted to resist the pull towards him. I was curious to know the man behind the athlete. I also wanted to know what was behind those well-fitting gym shorts.

"Good," I managed to say, my voice a little tighter and bubblier than I intended. "Let’s get started."

Liam nodded, although his eyes hinted at resistance.

We started with shadowboxing. I watched him move. His form was precise and powerful. I studied his intense focus. He threw punches into the air, combinations that spoke of years of training and instinct he picked up in the ring.

"Elbows tight, extend fully," I instructed as I circled him, watching for any sign of strain on his injured wrist. He nodded without missing a beat, adjusting his stance. Still, I could see it, the slight hesitation before each jab, the wary glances he tossed my way.

"Let's add some kicks," I suggested, moving over to the bags. I held a heavy bag steady.

He faltered for a split second, a silent question in his eyes before complied. His kicks were sharp, each one snapping against the bag with a thud that echoed through the room. I braced myself against the force, pushing against the weight of his blows, feeling the reverberations travel up my arms.

"Power's good, but don't sacrifice control." My voice rose over the sound of impact. "Again."

Liam's lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes narrowed with determination. Or was it annoyance? He unleashed another series of kicks, each one more controlled than the last. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breathing grew heavier. He didn't slow down. If anything, he increased the intensity, driven by more than just the need to recover.

"Take a breather," I called out after several minutes.

"I can handle it."

I knew then that this wasn't just about physical therapy or regaining what he'd lost. This was a test. He wanted to prove his strength, and I needed to demonstrate my knowledge as his trainer.

"Let’s see what you got," I agreed, giving him room. "But if you aggravate your injury, you're only setting yourself back."

He grunted his acknowledgment between strikes.

I let him continue for a while longer, until his shirt clung to him and his breath came in gasps. When I called time, he stopped, bending forward with his hands on his knees.

"Good work." My respect for his endurance was genuine. "You've got the drive, but it's not just about pushing through pain. It's about training smart."

“I know.” He straightened up. There was a flash of vulnerability in his expression, quickly masked by the usual guarded look. "Thanks."

As he walked off to grab a towel, I couldn't help but watch the way his muscles moved. "Next session, we'll work on flexibility," I called out to him. "Cool down and get some rest."

"Will do." He flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

I began to see clearly how Liam O'Connor was a man of layers and secrets. I wanted to know all about him, explore every part of him, body and mind. As I gathered my own things, preparing to leave the gym, I thought about my own guarded secrets. How would Liam react if he knew I was here for more than just his training? That I was looking for a criminal who was more dangerous than any match he’d find in a ring?

LIAM

I STOOD IN THE CORNER of the gym, watching Sophie set up for another one of our sessions together. For the past three days, she didn’t take it easy on me. I liked that about her.

The clink of weights and the thud of gloved fists against bags filled the air. My gaze lingered on her movements. I agreed to let her train me, but placing all my attention on her was a luxury I couldn't afford. Especially not with the possibility of Jack Thornton walking free.

Before and after training, I looked for him around Sunridge. Before he went to jail, he used to talk about joining one of the MMA gyms here in hopes of making it to one of the leagues. I popped into other gyms at odd hours of the day and evenings, just to make sure he didn’t make good on his intentions.

"Ready to get started?" Sophie’s voice cut through the noise around us, tugging me back to reality. Jack wasn’t here but she was, and I wanted to make the most of my time with her. Professionally and otherwise, but it didn’t seem like she was having any of that otherwise stuff.

"Let's do it," I replied, rolling my shoulders.

We began with light cardio, a run-of-the-mill warm-up. As we progressed into more specialized drills, her expertise became clear. She corrected my stance, adjusted my grip, her touch firm but not invasive. Professional. There was a fire in her eyes, a determination that matched the pace she set. It got to me. The intensity reminded me too much of myself.

"Come on, Liam," she urged as we moved onto strength training. "Three more reps."

I grunted, muscles burning. She wasn't just here to mold me into a better fighter. She was here to shatter any doubts about her capability, and damn if Sophie wasn't doing a good job of it.

"Keep your wrist straight," she instructed, her focus on the wrap concealing the ache from my injury. "Don't favor it."

"I’m not trying to." My frustration wasn't aimed at her. It was directed at the weakness I felt. If I got careless, an opponent in the ring could exploit it.

"No one's going to go easy on you because of an injury." Her tone was matter-of-fact. Not one ounce of pity detected.

Could she read my mind, too? I finished the last rep, slamming the weights down with a clang that echoed off the walls.

She didn't flinch. Instead, she gave a nod, as if acknowledging a point scored in a match only she understood. We moved onto sparring, where the real test began. Sophie grabbed another fighter from the gym to be my partner.

"Watch your footing," she called out as I dodged a swift jab. "You're telegraphing your kicks."

"Easy for you to say,” I panted, trying to keep up with my opponent’s pace. The week spent nursing my wrist slowed me down. Now I’d have to work on catching up.

"Nothing worth having comes easy.”

Sophie wasn’t lying. I wanted her. She was worth every risk, every challenge, and I hadn’t even kissed her.

The session wore on, and with each passing minute, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was still missing something crucial about Sophie. It was hidden behind her cool, confident poise. I had to know the secrets behind those brown eyes, even as another part of me warned to keep my distance.

“Time.” She announced the end of the sparring. She gave a thankful nod to my opponent as he left to hit the showers. “Let's see if you can put your energy into your footwork instead." Her eyes sparkled with a challenge.

We moved through the drills. She timed me on her smartwatch while I beelined through a series of cones set up on the gym floor. "Stay light on your feet, Liam. Or do they not teach that one in finishing school?"

"Please, I graduated with advanced honors from the school of hard knocks."

She scoffed at my corny line. "Advanced honors? Is that even a thing?" She paused her smartwatch, mercifully giving me a breather. "What made you step into the ring in the first place?"

I hesitated, unsure if I wanted the conversation to get heavy after we were having fun. "My mother was a real fighter. She worked three jobs while raising my hard-headed ass as a single parent. Then she got sick. I had to help out.” I lowered my head, regret making my shoulders heavy. “The streets gave me what I needed at the time.”

Given her background as a cop, I expected full on judgment, and wouldn’t blame her one bit if she decided to chew me out. Surprisingly, Sophie’s face was neutral as she looked at me. “What got you off the streets?”

“The army.” My voice softened as I traced the outline of a scar on my knuckle. "And MMA. I took it up when I was off-duty. It was a way to channel the anger. I had to get everything out to make sense, you know? It gave me a reason to fight for something other than just getting through the day."

She listened. "I get it. I’m glad you turned your life around early. Some people wait until it’s too late, or they don’t even bother.”

Yeah, like Jack. The unspoken reply formed in my mind. I wanted to talk about something else, anything besides the man I used to think of like an older brother. “Look at me now.” I changed the subject. “I’m learning from one of the best trainers. She’s got a kickass background cleaning up the streets.”

“You tried it.” She put her hand on a hip, unbothered by my deflection. "Fake flattery will get you nowhere."

“Who said it was fake? I could be impressed by you.”

She gave my words the brush off. "Alright, enough heart-to-heart. Let's get back to it."

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image of her smile, the way her laughter filled the empty spaces within me. Sophie Brooks had slipped through my defenses, making me find what I thought I'd lost long ago.

This time, I wanted to keep it. And her.