Page 25 of Serve ’N’ Protect

For the next few minutes, she tried listening in but couldn’t quite make out what Markus’s friend was saying. Judging from the way his jaw clenched repeatedly and his dark eyes narrowed with frustration, whatever it was, it wasn’t good news.

“Thanks,” he said finally. “I’ll wait for the video.” He ended the call and slapped the phone on the table.

“Bad news?” she asked.

He began tapping his fingers on the phone’s cover, as if he had a lot of energy to release and nowhere to focus it. “There are two cameras facing the parking lot where we were shot at, one on each corner of the building. One of them wasn’t aimed in the right direction. The other camera picked up the shooter running away, but missed his face, and whatever vehicle he used was out of range.”

Now she understood his disappointment. “Did anyone else see anything?”

“No. Matt spoke with the PD and gave them some kind of story. Except for us, there was no one in the parking lot. That’s the only good news. A few people near the main entrance heard the shots, but that’s about it.”

“If the hospital cameras can’t help, what video were you talking about?”

“The video outside the Saudi party.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to go through it again, just in case. We’re missing something. I just don’t know what or when.”

“It would give you something to do while you’re stuck here, and you never know. Something new might pop out at you.” It often did for her when she was crunching audit numbers that didn’t initially add up.

He watched her rub her leg. “Does your leg still hurt a lot?”

“Yeah, but pain I’ll take.” Automatically, her hands went to the tops of her thighs, feeling the raised ridge of scar tissue beneath the denim of her jeans. “They told me I’d never walk again, so walking at all is an achievement.” Too bad Hugh hadn’t stuck around long enough to see her walk. And when would the mere mention of his name stop tearing off jagged, bloody strips of her heart?

Wanting desperately to change the direction of her thoughts, she rose and stacked their plates, limping as she took them to the counter.

“I could help you while I’m here,” Markus said. “When I was in the military, I was a certified fitness instructor, which is a fancy title for someone who works out a lot and knows how to get in shape. I can help with rehabbing and deep tissue massage to get better circulation back into your muscles.”

Her heart sank as she recalled her last disappointing physical therapy session. “It wouldn’t change anything.” She’d stopped going to PT because she’d maxed out and wasn’t making progress. Doing it again with the same outcome would only make her more depressed. She grabbed her cane, leaning on it for support and realizing how sick of the damn thing she was. “This is as good as it gets, and I’m okay with that.” Aside from limping around for the rest of her life with a piece of metal as her BFF.

“Are you really?” Markus arched a brow, giving her the impression that he didn’t believe her any more than she believed it herself. “What did you used to do that you can’t anymore?”

So much. “Cycling, running, volleyball.” Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the game. “I was a pretty good setter in college. I haven’t competed in ages, but I used to coach a girls’ volleyball team. I don’t know if I can manage that anymore.” She still hadn’t scrounged up the courage to make that call. Because I don’t want to. Unrealistic though it was, she’d harbored a small sense of hope that she’d be better enough by now to keep coaching. But a coach who couldn’t show the girls what to do was only being selfish. Stepping aside was the right thing to do.

“Was that a paid job?”

“No, it was a volunteer position.” One that satisfied her craving for volleyball and her love of working with the girls. Hopefully, not all men were like Hugh, unwilling or incapable of loving someone with a debilitating and permanent injury. If they were, then she had to face the likelihood of never getting married and having children. Being with other people’s kids could very well be as close as she’d get to motherhood.

“Sounds like you give a lot of your time to others,” he said. “Maybe it’s time you focused on yourself. Did you know John has a gym in his basement? Everything’s brand-new, top of the line.”

She hadn’t known that. What other secrets was John keeping? “Then you’ll be all set, as soon as you’re able to work out again.”

“I will use the gym. Eventually. But I wasn’t talking about me.” He pointed a finger at her. “I was talking about you. C’mon.”

He stood, grimacing from the effort, then took her hand and led her out of the kitchen and down the hallway, moving slowly so she and her trusty cane could keep up. Ghost padded silently behind them. Markus’s hand was big and warm, completely engulfing hers. They continued to a closed door that he opened then flipped on a light switch.

“You okay with stairs?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Kind of. Stairs were a bitch, but unless she wanted to sack out on her living room sofa for the rest of her life, she had no choice but to struggle with the stairs.

Minutes later, she was staring at an awesome gym, so awesome she was rendered speechless.

The entire basement was one giant square with mirrored walls and wall-to-wall black rubber floor mats. One side of the gym was taken up by a cross trainer, treadmill, and bicycle. Another side had racks of barbells and dumbbells. Every other inch of floor space was covered with all kinds of circuit training equipment. Even the ceiling was decked out with speakers in every corner.

Ghost meandered around the equipment, sniffing the rubber mats as he went.

“Wow.” She limped to the rack of barbells, running her fingers over the shiny metal bars. “John must have had all this equipment delivered when I wasn’t home. It’s impressive.”

“Yeah,” Markus agreed.

The corners of his mouth threatened to creep up into an actual smile but seemed to hold back. She wondered if, for him, this was the closest he ever got to one.