Page 72 of Blind Trust
Lifting her chin, Lyla eyed him right back. “You should see the other guy.”
With a smirk, Rob lifted a shoulder. “The only customers who scare me are the wives who discover their husbands have been cheating.” He slid a look at Nicolás before meeting her eyes again. “That the case here?”
“We’re coworkers.”
Lyla’s cheeks warmed at Nicolás’s quick response. It was the truth, so why did it bother her? Her earlier awareness came roaring back to mind. They weren’t just coworkers. They were friends. And if the strange sensation that had been tickling her midsection was to be acknowledged...a small part of her maybewanted more?
Nicolás’s arm bumped hers—completely innocently—but she wouldn’t know it if the thumping in her chest was to be believed. What was happening to her?
“You signed up for rage machine.” Rob’s voice drew her back to their walk down a hallway. “Which means you get an hour in the Room of Destruction.”
As they passed other rooms, the ear-shattering noise of destruction was barely muted by the loud music echoing from each room.She paused by one door and listened to the familiar country song by Carrie Underwood about a cheating man.
“Let me guess, caught her husband cheating?”
Rob kept walking. “With two women from her yoga class.”
It was concerning how much personal information had been shared with Rob that he then shared with them, and also the amount of glass shattering and cursing that was coming from the room.
“This is your room.” Rob wrote their names on a small whiteboard hanging on the door while she and Nicolás put the steel tips over their shoes and slipped on the welding helmets. “Choices of tools are inside, and everything is fair game to destroy. There’s a panic button near the door for your safety.” He handed them each a pair of gloves and opened the door. “Get your rage on.”
Lyla walked into the room the size of a two-car garage. In fact, an old car, spray-painted and missing a door, was parked on one side, with enough space on the other side for another car if it weren’t for the piles of glass dishes, bottles, old computer software, small appliances, and a big screen television circa the eighties.
“What’s your rage weapon of choice? We have baseball bats, golf clubs...” Nicolás pulled out a crowbar. “This looks like it could do some damage.”
She couldn’t see his face because of the helmet, but there was a sound of excitement in his voice that made her smile. “I’ll take the bat, please.”
Nicolás handed her the bat and then pointed at a screen on the wall protected by plastic. “We can pick a song. Do you have a preference?”
“Surprise me.”
He nodded, pressed a button, and soon the speakers blasted with guitar riffs and chest-pounding drumbeats that instantly got her adrenaline pumping. Stepping aside, Nicolás gestured for her to begin.
Lyla eyed the possibilities and suddenly felt nervous, vulnerablewith him watching. She didn’t know if he sensed her hesitation, but she felt him come up beside her, his steady presence making her extra warm beneath the coveralls.
“Imagine Becky ‘the Basher’ Benning just took out your lead skater, and you’re one point away from roller derby world domination.” His fingers went to the back of her shoulders, and the encouraging touch sent a shudder through her middle. “Show ’em what you got, Stinkerbell.”
Thank goodness the mask covered the blush his words had brought to her cheeks. She didn’t know if it was his touch or that he remembered the name of her roller derby nemesis or the crazy fluctuation of feelings pumping from her chest and spreading through every part of her, but she lifted the bat, eyed her target, and swung with powerful energy.
The second her bat connected with the side-view mirror, her ears rang with a shattering sound that was deliciously satisfying.
“Whoop!” She swung again, this time connecting with the car’s headlights. Her adrenaline spiked, and she let out another war cry as she continued to beat dents into the car’s hood and fenders.
For several minutes, she focused on nothing else but the jarring ache vibrating through her still-tender muscles as she swung over and over. Her breathing came hard, and she could feel the sweat dripping down her back, but she didn’t care. This was fun. When she knocked the mirror off the car, she turned and looked at Nicolás, who was standing back, arms folded, and though she couldn’t see it, she imagined his expression was probably both amused and slightly terrified. It made her laugh. A deep, belly-aching laughter that made her double over to catch her breath.
Nicolás stepped toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes.” She wheezed through more laughter. “I think my adrenaline is in overdrive.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anything like that in my life.” His voice was muffled by the mask. “I’m actually worried about Becky now.”
“Don’t worry.” Lyla straightened, her lungs still hungry for air. She took a deep breath. “Becky’s a correctional officer at a maximum security prison.” She tried to wipe at the sweat beading on her forehead but forgot she had a mask on. “Are you going to try?”
“I’m enjoying watching you get your rage on.”
“Nicolás, you didn’t put on that silly outfit just to stand there and watch.” Swinging the bat to her shoulder, she put a hand on her hip. “Imagine your worst enemy.” He stood there, and she imagined the frown tugging his brows together. “Saturated fats.”
“They are the silent killer.” Nicolás chuckled. “Okay, let’s do this.”
