by Bev Prescott
Billy looped his thumbs over his black leather belt. Rocking back on his heels, he pushed his chest out like a peacock staking its claim on a patch of grass. “It was that damn headstrong Isabella Parisi. She tried to break up the fight while fists were flying. I told her to stay the hell out of it and that I’d take care of the situation. But she’s as stubborn as a mule. One of these days, she’ll get herself seriously hurt for all her cockiness around these guys.” He shook his head. “It serves her right.”
What a jackass. “Where is she?” Madison asked.
Billy gave her a patronizing stare. He nodded toward a small conference room off to the left of the dormitory. “She’s in there.”
Jim spoke to Madison. “Why don’t you go check on Isabella? I’ll see to Buxton and Louis.”
Madison was on her way to the conference room as she replied. “Sure.”
She opened the door. Isabella was sitting at a small table resting her head on the palm of her right hand. With the other hand, she held an ice pack over her left eye.
Without moving, Isabella said, “I’m fine. Just give me some time alone.”
Madison stepped into the room. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I came to make sure you’re okay. Do you mind?”
Isabella put the ice pack down and raised her head. “It appears you’ve come to my rescue again, Capt. Brown.” Her expression softened. “I hoped I’d see you again, but this was hardly the way I pictured it.”
Madison sat down in the chair next to her. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Isabella’s face. When she did, she saw that one of those “flying fists” the guard had referred to had made contact with Isabella. There was considerable swelling and a small cut above her left eye. “Is it all right if I examine your injury?”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”
Madison gently tilted Isabella’s head back and examined the bone around the eye for any sign that it might be broken. “Why are you smiling?”
“I was just thinking that you’re very good at making a person feel cared for. I hardly know you, but you make me feel safe.”
“I’m a nurse. That’s my job,” Madison responded. And you’re quite the flirt.
“So, what’s your diagnosis?” Isabella asked.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“That’s not really the kind of question one wants to be asked by a medical professional, but I guess I’ll take the bad first.”
Madison retrieved the ice pack from the table and handed it to Isabella. “You’re going to have one hell of a black eye tomorrow. The good news is that I don’t think anything is broken, and you won’t need stitches.” Madison reached into her medical bag. She took out an antiseptic wipe and a small butterfly bandage. Holding Isabella’s chin, she gently wiped the cut with the antiseptic.
Isabella flinched.
“I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve warned you it might sting.” Madison started to open the bandage.
Isabella laid a hand on her wrist. “It’s okay. Thank you for taking care of me.”
Madison looked away. Flirt or not, Isabella’s touch went deeper than the surface of her skin.
Isabella removed her hand. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Madison resumed opening the bandage. “It’s all right. You didn’t.” She placed the Band-Aid over the small cut. “What happened, anyway?” The air in the room felt heavy.
Isabella placed the ice pack back over her eye. “I thought I could get them to stop fighting before they got kicked out of the shelter. They don’t have anyplace else to go, and it’s too cold for them to sleep out on the streets. I should’ve known better than to get in between them. Blissfully naïve, that’s what my father says about me. Sometimes I wonder if he’s right. Maybe my efforts are wasted on some of these guys.”
Almost in a whisper Madison said, “I think you’re beautiful.” She couldn’t believe she had let her words tumble out unrestrained. “I mean… I think you’re a beautiful person to do the work that you do. I’ve seen what war does to soldiers. You might not be able to fix everything that’s broken, but believe me, having someone like you to care about them matters.”
“Thank you. That means a lot coming from a veteran who understands war.” Isabella glanced at her watch and pushed her chair back from the table. “I should be going. The General—the fellow you met that morning after I flubbed my double-Lutz on the ice—has an appointment this afternoon. I’m really glad I got to see you again.”
“Wait.” Madison put a hand on the back of Isabella’s chair to keep her from scooting it out farther. “You really should take it easy today. Dr. Barns is here checking on Louis and Buxton. We can save you a trip by giving the General his checkup here.”
“You’ve already gone to enough trouble. You really don’t have to do that for me.”
“I want to.”
“Not only do you make me feel safe, but it’s hard to say no to you.”
“Good, because I have another suggestion. I hope you won’t think I’m being pushy, but why don’t you come with me to my gym sometime? I’d like to teach you how to protect yourself. I box, and I know some really effective self-defense techniques. I’d hate for you to get hurt again.” Madison took a business card out of her shoulder bag and wrote the name and address of Bixby’s Gym on the back. She included her cell phone number as well. “Boxing is great exercise and good for blowing off steam. Plus, I guarantee that hitting something hard without the worry of hurting yourself is very cathartic.”
Isabella looked her up and down. “Boxing? Really?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“You’re so pretty and feminine. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be the type.”
“Isabella, you can’t be serious. This from a very beautiful woman who’s holding an ice pack over a black eye she got scuffling with a couple of large, angry men. Trust me. Pretty girls can be tough girls, too.” Madison handed the card to her. “Meet me there on Saturday morning at ten.”
“Okay, I’ll be there. But remember, I’m smaller than you. I don’t want to go home with a second black eye to match the one I’ve already got.”
Madison lightly touched Isabella’s arm. “Don’t worry. I promise not to let anything bad happen.”
“There’s something about you that makes that entirely believable. I’d love to.”
“Then I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
The comfortable quiet of the room was shattered by a man storming in. “My God, Isabella, what the hell happened this time?”
Madison moved out of his way as he knelt down beside Isabella, gave her a grim glare, and touched the left side of her face. “Sweetheart, we need to get you to a hospital to have that examined right away. Where are your bag and coat? I’m taking you there now.”
“Ben,” Isabella said, “in case you hadn’t noticed, a very capable Army nurse is standing next to you. Capt. Brown already checked my eye and said everything’s fine. What are you doing here, anyway?”
Ben stood. “After you were attacked last time at the shelter, I asked to be informed if anything happened again. The receptionist called to let me know you’d been hurt. I came right over.” Ben extended his hand to Madison. “I’m Ben Jackson.”
She shook it with a firm grip. “Hi, I’m Madison Brown. Other than a black eye by morning, I do think Isabella will be fine. But we can have our doctor, Maj. Barns, step in to have a look if that will make you feel better.”
Madison glanced over and saw Jim standing in the doorway to the room.
Ben said, “I don’t think we should rely on your diagnosis. I want Isabella to be seen by the major, or better yet, taken to a hospital for a complete examination.”
Jim stepped into the room. “I’m Maj. Barns, and with all due respect, sir, I served in Iraq with Capt. Brown. I have as much confidence in her abilities as I have in most doctors.” He stepped closer to Ben. “I stood next to her when
she massaged the heart of a dying soldier with her own hands while I tried to keep him from bleeding to death after his chest was blown apart. Don’t ever question the capabilities of Capt. Brown in my presence. Now, unless Ms. Parisi wishes otherwise, I think we’re finished here.”
If a pin had dropped in that moment, the sound would have reverberated around the room like a cannon shot.
Ben regained his composure. “I’m sure Capt. Brown is a competent nurse. That doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be a second opinion to confirm her diagnosis.” He struck a defensive posture. “My concern is for Isabella.”
Isabella captured Madison’s gaze. “Capt. Brown took excellent care of me. I don’t want to see anyone else.”
Madison hoped Isabella couldn’t see past her eyes and into her heart and glimpse the awful memories of war that suddenly seized her. She neither wanted to share nor expose them. They were best kept hidden. She looked away and picked up her medical bag. In the most distant professional voice she could muster, she said, “It was good to see you. Be sure to ice that eye twenty minutes every hour for the rest of the day. You really should consider taking the rest of the day off. Don’t worry about the General’s appointment. Dr. Barns and I will see him before we leave.”
Jim seconded the advice. “I agree with the captain. We can give you a ride back to Social Services, if you’d like.”
Ben said, “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take her home.”
He called her sweetheart. Madison found it hard to connect Isabella to such an overbearing man. She regretted having invited her to Bixby’s. Her libido had managed to get the better of her good sense. “Isabella, maybe we should cancel our plans for Saturday until you’re feeling better.”
“No. I’d really like to go. It would be fun. Besides, I’d love to spend time getting to know you better,” Isabella said.
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart,” Ben said. “You really do need to take some time to rest. Cancel your plans as the captain suggests, and I’ll take good care of you myself this weekend.”
I bet you will, Madison thought. “Why don’t you decide when the time comes whether you’re up for it? I’ll be there regardless. Good to see you.” Madison and Jim left Isabella in the conference room with her annoying boyfriend. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t see Isabella again.
Chapter 4
Isabella turned onto a narrow one-way side street in the Boston suburb of Dorchester. She’d heard this part of town could be dangerous, even on a Saturday morning. Her GPS told her she was nearing her destination. “In point two miles, arrive at Bixby’s Gym, on left.” She was assailed by second thoughts, and not because Bixby’s happened to be in a rough neighborhood.
She parked her Toyota Highlander next to a rusty Buick in the small lot behind Bixby’s. With fifteen minutes to kill before she was supposed to meet Madison, she surveyed the surroundings.
Bixby’s was tucked between two large, decaying brick buildings whose heyday had long passed. Bixby’s, on the other hand, was meticulously maintained. It stood like a proud prizefighter among the more imposing buildings that crumbled around it. A single wooden sign with the image of two men engaged in a boxing match adorned the right side of the back door. Besides the Buick, an old, but well-kept Audi and a red pickup were the only other vehicles in the lot.
Isabella shivered now that the engine and heat were off. Although it was the end of March, winter hadn’t loosened its grip on Massachusetts. She wore only running pants and a thin sweatshirt over a short-sleeved cotton T-shirt, and the cold claimed her quickly.
Her stomach was in knots. What was she doing in a seedy section of town, meeting a woman she couldn’t stop thinking about, who was going to teach her how to hit things? Maybe she’d stepped into some weird alternative dimension. Despite her misgivings about the whole situation, one thing was certain. She had to get to know the enigmatic Capt. Madison Brown better. She glanced toward the rearview mirror and caught sight of the black and blue bruising around her left eye. At least I’ll fit in.
Isabella hugged herself against the morning chill as she walked toward the door. Butterflies did the rhumba in her stomach.
Inside the building, a tall, redheaded woman flipped through a Vogue magazine as she leaned against a wooden desk. She wore a tight yellow tank top and black spandex capri workout pants that showed off her well-developed muscles. Her forearm and biceps muscles were imposing. Ironically, her hard physique was softened by delicate feminine facial features. Isabella found the contrast surprisingly attractive. “Statuesque” was the best adjective she could come up with for her.
The redhead glanced up from her magazine. “Hi, honey, can I help you?” Her eyes settled on Isabella’s. “You need more than a boxing lesson, sweetheart. You ought to be at the police station instead of here if some man did that to you.”
Isabella felt intimidated. “I… I’m here to meet someone, and the black eye was an accident.”
“If I had a nickel for every woman who came in here hoping to learn how to defend herself against an asshole husband or boyfriend, I’d be a rich woman.” She picked up her cell phone. “Let me call the cops for you.”
“No, please. I’m telling you the truth. I’m here to meet Madison Brown.”
The woman became cheerful. “Oh, that’s right. She said a friend might be coming by this morning. You must be Isabella, right?” She put down her cell phone. “I’m Bobbie Bixby. My husband, Jerome, and I own this place. We’ve known Maddie for years. She’s been coming here ever since we opened. She’s one of the best women boxers we’ve seen. It’s a shame she doesn’t compete.” She scrutinized Isabella. “You must be special. I don’t think she’s ever invited anyone to the gym before.”
“I don’t know about that. We hardly know each other.”
A stocky bald man came from the hallway behind Bobbie and joined them. To Isabella, his arms appeared to be the size of tree trunks. He looked like he’d just successfully wrestled a grizzly.
“Hey, Lucas, Maddie’s friend Isabella is here to see her. Is she still in the sparring room with Jerome?” Bobbie asked.
Lucas stared at Isabella for so long that she became uncomfortable. He gave Isabella the distinct impression that she wasn’t welcome.
I’m completely out of my mind to be here, she thought.
He grunted and said, “Yes, she’s there.” Lucas pulled the hood of his heavy gray sweatshirt up over his head and shuffled out the door.
“Kind of a menacing guy, wouldn’t you say?” Isabella tried not to sound alarmed.
Bobbie rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. He’s a dopey dinosaur. He’s more afraid of you than you should be of him.”
“Are you kidding? That guy could squash me like a bug.”
“He’s harmless. He’d never hurt a woman in a million years. He probably thinks you’re new competition for Madison’s affections. He has this crazy crush on her. I keep telling him he’s barking up the wrong tree. But, for whatever reason, he still believes he can turn a lesbian straight. Funny thing is, he’s the kind of guy capable of quite the opposite.” Bobbie motioned over her shoulder. “If you follow the hallway and take the first left, you’ll end up in the sparring room. That’s where you’ll find Maddie. Go in and have a seat on the bleachers. She and Jerome should be finished soon.”
Madison was gay? No big deal. After all, Beth and Marcy were two of her best friends. They had the kind of relationship she envied. She wished she could think of a graceful way to leave without seeing Madison. The last thing she wanted to do was give Madison the wrong idea about their friendship.
“Thanks, it was nice to meet you,” Isabella said.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Isabella took her time walking to the sparring room. The place was sparsely decorated. The only pictures hanging on the off-white walls were of boxers in the ring. A five-gallon water dispenser with paper cups sat outside the sparring room. The floor was done in gray tile. Except for the air freshe
ner she’d noticed on Bobbie’s desk, stale sweat and bleach were the dominant odors.
Isabella opened the door to the sparring room. Madison never took her eyes off of Jerome. He loomed over her like a mountain. Madison was tall, but Jerome was significantly taller, with a huge head and angular jaw. His limbs were enormous. Isabella worried for Madison’s safety.
But only Madison was throwing punches. Her punches and jabs landed on large pads strapped to Jerome’s wrists.
Madison’s and Jerome’s movements looked like a synchronized, energetic, graceful dance. The motion of Madison’s body revealed the muscle definition in her legs, arms, and shoulders. She wore loose-fitting shorts and a sports bra that exposed her flat stomach. Madison’s long, sandy-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A couple of strands hung loose at the base of her neck. Isabella noticed how smooth the back of Madison’s neck seemed.
What the hell is the matter with me? A cacophony of warning bells clamored in her head. I am not attracted to her.
Isabella forced herself to concentrate on the boxing. Even though she knew next to nothing about the sport, it obviously required skill, concentration, and agility. Madison possessed them all. Her feet moved in harmony with her upper body. She led her punches with her left shoulder. She tucked her elbows close to her sides with her forearms up, mostly jabbing at Jerome. She moved from side to side, blocking, ducking, and landing blows on the pads Jerome held in front of her. Occasionally, when the opportunity arose, she would throw a more significant punch. Watching her gave Isabella a new appreciation for boxing. It seemed a more agile, athletic waltz than the brutal sport she’d envisioned.
The rhythm of Madison’s movements and her cat-like nimbleness put Isabella into a daydream until a loud buzzer snapped her out of her reverie. Jerome pulled off his mitts and patted Madison on the back. “Good job today, Maddie. I’ll see you here Wednesday night.”
“Thanks, Jerome,” Madison said as he waved to Isabella and left. Madison grabbed a towel off of the bench and wiped the sweat from her face. “Hi, Isabella. I’m glad you could make it. How’s your eye?”