The Assassin in Blue

21. Deal Maker

I woke up earlier than usual, finding myself in the workout room. I was sure to cover the wall of window with a curtain so I could have some peace. I had been assaulting the punching bag until my knuckles were sore. I wouldn't be surprised if I unwrapped my hands and found fresh blood covering my fingers, the pain I felt was pushed away and I let myself keep busy as a distraction.

The gash on my thigh screamed at me in agony, I simply had it wrapped in a bandage to hold over.

"It's early," a voice put me at a halt. I hadn't even noticed a presence in the room. A wild guess on who it was. God, he was a pest.

I turned at Kaden's voice to find him standing there dressed in a grey shirt and navy blue sweats. I hated to admit I found him attractive. My eyes rolled on their own accord. "There you go with the blue again, I think it's an obsession."

"Maybe," he meekly agreed. His gruff voice filled the silence that should've been there, interrupting the peace I was cherishing. He walked further into the room, coming towards me. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" I turned my eyes away from him and continued hitting the bag in front of me. "Get out."

Ignoring my command, I was aware that he came closer rather than leaving. He came into my peripheral vision, intently examining the side of my face. His eyes watched my form work from the side, it almost made me uncomfortable that he was just... staring.

Seconds rushed by while I tried to ignore him. It was impossible to miss his intimidating presence, I couldn't focus and it was bothering me. Prick.

I glanced at him and he immediately caught my eyes with his. I quickly turned my attention back to the bag. The hell is up with him? "What?"

I hesitated as he stepped around me, his cool fingers traced across the back of my shoulders and sent a shiver cracking down my spine. I mentally cursed my tank top for letting him directly touch me. "Too tense, relax here," he instructed.

I reluctantly did as he said and dropped my shoulders into a loose position that felt natural and relaxed. What is he doing? If a nasty look crossed my face I couldn't say I'd be surprised.

Wether my body language was relaxed or not, I definitely wasn't with him hovering around me like this. We definitely weren't on good terms, I didn't understand why he was here acting like nothing happened.

In all honesty, a part of me imagined him as the punching bag. For the most part, I was stuck on replaying thoughts, the stress I had pent up needed a release. This bag of sand was the unfortunate object that got the wrong end of the release.

"Does it hurt?" He was watching me from the side again.

I stopped punching the bag to give him the attention I was trying to keep to myself. I leaned my forearm against the bag. "What?"

"Your leg." He nodded towards the bandage, then met my eyes again. "Does it hurt?" he didn't sound concerned, exactly. It seemed more as if he were scripted to aid me.

"No. Feels great," came my snippy, sarcastic response. I wiped the sweat from my forehead in frustration. "What do you want?"

He disregarded my manners and spoke again, "You should be resting if you're injured."

"What's the matter with you?" I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. "It seems like you're trying to be nice right now- sort of." I watched him skeptically. "Small tip, at least acknowledge what I say and get out. You'd hate for me to replace this bag with you."