Caught in the Undertow (Hawaiian Crush #6) (9 page)

“The same,” she said sadly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been sick for a week. It should be done by now,” she said with frustration.

“You have pneumonia, not the common cold,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s still annoying,” she said. “I’m glad my teachers are understanding.”

“They know how much you hate missing class.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m at work.”

“Oh, well have a good time.”

“Thanks.”

“Where are you guys going tonight?” she asked.

“Tully’s.”

“Can you bring me something afterwards?”

“Anything you want.”

“Some ice cream.”

He smiled. “You never eat ice cream.”

“I think it will feel good on my throat.”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Surprise me.”

They sat on the phone in silence for a while.

“I miss you,” he said.

“I miss you too.”

“It’s not the same when you aren’t at school.”

“It’s probably nice,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not there to argue with you.”

“I love arguing with you,” he whispered.

“I do too.”

“Well, I’ll see you when I get home. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up then walked inside. After he changed, he checked in at the desk and went over his paperwork. Ever since he got married, he stopped taking female clients. There was no doubt that he would never cheat on Sydney, ever look at another woman, but he didn’t want to be put in the situation to begin with. It made him uncomfortable touching another women besides his wife.

When he looked at the paperwork, he realized his next client was a girl.

Coen turned to his coworker. “I think you gave me the wrong paperwork, man.”

Tyrese took it then looked it over. “No, this is right.”

“I don’t take chick clients,” he snapped.

Tyrese looked at him. “Dude, we’re so booked right now. And the rest of the guys can’t accommodate the schedules. I’ll try to comply with your request as much as possible, but it’s not always going to happen. Either be a team player or find another job.” He walked into the back office and disappeared.

Coen sighed in annoyance. Now that he was married, he couldn’t afford not to work. He’d been saving his money to take Sydney on a real honeymoon and he needed the cash. He sighed then went back into the changing room. He changed into long sweat pants instead of the shorts he usually wore, and his cut off shirt was exchanged for a normal t-shirt. Sydney always wore a shirt and shorts when she went swimming with friends without him, when guys were around, so he had to do the same for her.

He walked into the training room and set up for the session. When his client walked inside, he sighed in annoyance. She was wearing a sports bra and black leggings. Her hair was down, curly at the ends, and her face was pounded with makeup. Coen was immediately irritated. She should be here to workout, not show off.

“I’m Coen,” he said simply.

“Casey,” she said. She extended her hand to take his.

Hesitantly, Coen shook it.

She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. She had a slim build, with long legs and a lean torso. He couldn’t deny that she was attractive, even though she wasn’t his type at all.

“Let’s get started,” he said. “Are you a beginner?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“And what do you need this training for?” He looked at the clipboard.

“Personal,” she said vaguely.

Coen wasn’t convinced. “Is someone bothering you, Casey?”

“No,” she said quickly, averting her gaze.

Coen caught the lie. “As your trainer, you can confide personal information to me. It will remain confidential. And the more I know about your needs, the better I can help you.”

She placed her hands on her hips but remained mute.

Coen thought of Sydney. She was the exact same way when they first met, untrusting, quiet. “Let’s begin,” he said.

He showed her the basic moves of self-defense, how to block attacks and unleash her own. She seemed to have a good understanding of the practice, but she needed to work on her timing and her confidence.

When he demonstrated moves to her, he never touched her. He wanted to avoid it as much as possible. His relationship with Sydney was solid, and there was no room for any doubt of his commitment to her, but he still wanted to cover his ass.

Casey sweated through the whole training session, and her layers of makeup started to peel away. Coen noticed the slight discoloration around her lips and near her eyes, like they were old bruises. Th
e makeup hid them well, but the abrasions were evident when it disappeared.

When the session was over, Coen looked at her. “If someone is hurting you, you should report
it to the police.”

“No one is bothering me,” she said quickly.

Coen sighed in annoyance. He should just let it go. It wasn’t his problem. But his conscious kept pulling him back. It was his duty and obligation to help those who couldn’t help themselves. After his sister passed away, he vowed to stop it from ever happening again. “Please talk to me,” he said with a sigh.

She flinched. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“I can see the bruises on your face. I’m not stupid.”

Her eyes
widened in fear.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said quickly. “But please let me help. I’ve helped many women escape their abusers. I can help you too.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m fine.”

Coen sighed in annoyance. He turned to the cabinet and pulled out a business card then scribbled his number on the back. He handed it to her. “If you need help, please call me. I live five minutes from her
e.”

She stared at him for a moment before she took the card.

Coen wished he could do more, but he couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped. At least she took the card.

They walked to the front desk where she checked out.

“Thank you for the session,” she said as she smiled at him.

Coen rested his left hand on the counter, in plain sight. His wedding band shined under the florescent lights.
“Of course.”

“Bye.” She left the building and walked to her car.

Coen watched her go with a heavy heart. He sincerely hoped that his training would save her life.

He finished the workday with his other clients, and by the time he was done, he was covered in sweat and exhausted. He showered in the locker room then left the building.

He texted Derek.
When are we meeting?

We’re already here.

Be there in 5.

Coen drove to the restaurant and saw his friends sitting at the bar. He took his seat at the end, next to Henry. “What’s up?”

“The Seahawks just scored,” Henry said.

Coen ordered a beer and watched the game.

“How’s Sydney doing?” Thatcher asked.

“She’s still really unwell,” Coen said sadly. “I might take her back to the doctor to make sure everything is okay.”

Thatcher nodded. “I don’t mean to overstep my boundary, but is she pregnant?”

“No,” Coen said quickly. “I had her take a pregnancy test.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Henry asked.

Thatcher looked at him. “She was tired and had no appetite for a long time. Those are common symptoms of a pregnancy.”

Henry nodded. “Well, that must have been a relief for you, Coen.”

Coen shrugged. “Having kids scares me, but now that I’m married, it’s not so frightening.
Sydney would be a great mom. The best.”

“If you want your kids to be vegetarians,” Derek said with a laugh.

Coen smiled. “Sydney wouldn’t do that.”

The bartender approached Derek. “This is from the lady in red.” He placed the beer in front of him then walked off.

Derek eyed it but didn’t touch it. “Now that I have a girlfriend, I get hit on all the time. It’s so weird.”

Thatcher smiled. “They know you are boyfriend material.”

“So you must get hit on like crazy,” Derek said.

“It’s about the same,” Thatcher said as he watched the TV.

“Because you’re a dreamy artist,” Henry said.

All the guys looked at him, their eyebrows raised.

“I love Ren,” Henry said quickly.

They all laughed then looked away.

Coen turned to Henry. “When are you proposing?”

“Soon,” he said. “I’m so excited and so nervous at the same time.”

“You’ll be overjoyed when she says yes,” Coen said.

“How did you propose?” Henry asked.

“You were there,” Coen said.

“When you did it at school in front of Audrey?”

Coen nodded.

“But that was fake,” Henry said.

“Not for me,” Coen said. “I had the ring I gave her engraved with her name. I knew I would never want that ring back.”

Thatcher nodded. “That’s the best proposal I’ve ever heard.”

“Damn,” Henry said. “Maybe mine isn’t good enough.”

“It’s perfect,” Thatcher said. “It’s just right for the two of you.”

“How are you going to ask?” Coen said.

Thatcher drank from his beer. “It’s a surprise.”

Derek sighed. “I’m going to ask her with a surf board. I think that will work.”

“Those are all great ideas,” Thatcher said.

Coen sipped his beer while he watched the game. It was nice to be out of the house even though he missed Sydney. He wished she wasn’t sick so they could go swimming or out to dinner. Her cough attacks made it impossible for her to leave the house. The only good thing was she was getting a lot of work done in bed. She still did research, but she organized data and papers that his uncle would send her.

Someone sat in the empty chair
next to him. “Hey.”

Coen turned and saw Casey.
“Oh hi.” He wasn’t expecting to see her.

“How are you?”

“Good,” he said. “I’m just watching the game with my friends.” That was his polite way of getting rid of her. He didn’t want her to be abused or beaten, but he didn’t want a friendship with her outside the gym. He already had plenty of friends and a wife.

She stared at him for a long time. “Thank you for training me. I was so nervous. I’ve never done that before.”

“I’m just doing my job,” he said.

“Have you been doing it long?”

Coen felt Henry stare at him, watching his every move. He was irritated that Henry felt the need to keep an eye on him. “For a few years.” He rested his left hand on the table so she would realize he was married.

She nodded. “Were you—ever
scared?”

“Scared of what?” he asked.

“Of someone hurting you…”

“No,” he said. “Why?”

“Why are you a self-defense instructor?”

Coen would never tell anyone besides Sydney. “It’s just
a passion. I like helping other people.”

“Well, I appreciate all the help.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said. “It was nice seeing you.” He dismissed her and waited for her to leave.

She didn’t move. She stared past his shoulder and her eyes widened.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. She looked at the television.

“I should get back to my friends.” He dismissed her again.

“Oh…okay.” She slid off the chair then walked away.

Henry was staring at him. “Who was that?”

“A client,” Coen snapped.

Henry turned away and looked at the TV.

Coen watched Casey return to a table with her friends. She seemed sad, like his rejection had stung her. He didn’t care if she was hurt. He practically waved his marital status in her face. When a man approached their table, large and beefy, Coen watched how Casey cowered. His shoulders tense and her lips lost their smile. Her eyes were hollow and empty. Her friends didn’t seem to notice the change in body language. The man gripped her by the arm, yanking her from the chair. Coen felt his heart accelerate.

The man dragged her out of the restaurant. Her friends didn’t seem to think anything was odd.

Coen sat there, trying to figure out what to do. It wasn’t his problem but he couldn’t do
nothing. “Shit.” He pushed his beer away and walked off. His friends turned and watched him go.

Coen opened the door and walked into the parking lot. When he heard the sound of yelling, he immediately moved toward the noise.

“You said you were staying home tonight,” the man said as he pinned her against the door of ha truck.