Page 5 of Ryder: Shadows and Desires

Andrew narrows his eyes. “You in any trouble?”

“No.”

“I’m not going to invest my ass in training you only to find out you’re on drugs or wanted for something.”

“I am not on any drugs or escaping any law. I drink when I want, but I can quit for training. It’s more for leisure.”

“Are you in shape?”

“Pretty decent, but I need a coach if I want to win,” I explain.

“Alright, man. It’s a start. Where are you living?”

“Nowhere permanent.”

Andrew raises his brows. “Good. You’re living with me for the next seven months, then. Should be a seamless shift in living accommodations. If you’re serious, then we need to stick to a strict schedule. Lowers trained that way, so I assume that’s why you’re here.”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” I prefer having a coach who breathes down my neck and pushes me. It’s not that I’m not motivated, I just work best that way.

“Any injuries besides your shoulder?”

“No.”

“We’ll take care of that, then. We got the staff for it.” Andrew sticks out his hand. The bombshell brunette flashes through my mind when he mentions his staff, knowing her hands will be all over me. But it’s not like I have many options. “Welcome home, Ryder. Let’s get to work.”

J U L I E

* * *

My mind racesas I sit in my office, waiting on word about Ryder.

When Andrew enters the doorway with a dramatic open, disappointment laps at my mind when I fail to see Ryder with him. I stand up, peering around the doorframe, but there’s no fighter.

Andrew’s a man who harbors a routinely antagonistic personality, not one consisting of smiling. Which he’s doing right now. I can’t decide if I find it concerning or heart-warming.

“Well, what happened? Luke mentioned something about Warlord and his old coach.” I almost hold my breath, standing like I’m awaiting a verdict.

Andrew grins, revealing straight teeth with the exception of a slight gap in the front. “Get used to seeing him around. He’s staying.”

I choke on air. “What?”

“He’s entering Warlord with me as his coach.”

An incredulous laugh spills out of me as I sit, darting my gaze around the room, a wave of nerves washing over me like muscle relaxers. It’s a similar feeling to when I got accepted into university on a full ride—all doors are wide open.

“I’m assigning him to you, and he’s going to be your top priority. You’re on the team, Stevens. And please, no more spilling coffee on him.”

I stand, wincing when I bump a knee into the table, the pain insignificant compared to this. “Really?”

“You’re like a damn whack-a-mole. And yeah, he’s got a bad shoulder, and you had that one rip back in college. You’re better suited than Wes. I can’t deny you’re good at your job. Plus, you’re motivated.”

“Right, yeah.Yeah, I can do that.” I laugh. “This isamazing.And he’s not mad about the coffee?”

“He’ll live... and good, you need to be all in. This is an enormous opportunity for the gym. I would have called Lowers four months ago had I known he was hiding Ryder this whole time.”

I return the sentiment with another wild laugh, and for an infinitesimal moment of agreement, we share our pride and joy.

The out-of-place smile fades from the coach’s face when he looks down at the ground, rolling back on his heels. A familiar silence returns. Ever since Andrew came to me two months ago asking to change the name of Rhino MMA to Lionheart MMA—knowing how much this place meant to Jeremy, including the name—our already tense relationship completely fell apart.