SEIZED Part 6: A Steamy New Adult Romantic Suspense Thriller (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) by JC Coulton Page B
Authors: JC Coulton
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defense from start to finish. I remember sitting there is a series of interviews, gritting my teeth. The questions they asked were so personal in nature. I resented having to share them, but the only option was to cooperate.
There was no love lost when I was cleared that time. And I assumed my association with Neon would have been common knowledge after that point. This new case seems like an intentional attack. I’m surprised I’m being called in again—with virtually no notice. There’s something going on, and I’d like to find out who’s really behind the last-minute scheduling.
Christ! I feel pissed. I worked so hard to change my life. It feels cruel to be facing this again. I’ve never used my sobriety or recovery as a crutch, but having to deal with it makes adversity like my suspension feel like I’ve been dealt more than I can bear. They never said life was going to be easy, but surely a guy deserves a break sometimes? I have to remember not to lose my cool. I’m sure I’ll be fine. In the meantime, I need to work out all this excess energy.
The gym is where I need to be. Sweating profusely, building muscle, and hitting a punching bag as hard as possible. That way by tomorrow, I’ll have released all that pent-up anger and frustration. Brenda walks in about five minutes after my last call, so I tell her I have to run and will catch up with her later. I run upstairs to grab my gym gear and head out.
Since all this spare time came my way, I’ve been training at one of the local gyms. It’s not the expensive, cookie-cutter health club franchise most people in the area go to. And the equipment is old compared to what I used at the station. The thing is, I just like the place. It’s got zero frills, just like me. All I want in a gym is a place I can go and get my body moving.
I drive faster than I should. I just want to get over there. I even play my pre workout playlist. It’s a combination of oldies and anthems from my teens. They do the trick of putting me in the right head space so I can push my body. I pull into the parking garage close to the gym. I’m pumped and ready to go. I take a long drink of my water bottle before stalking in like I own the place. It’s pretty barren inside. A few regulars nod at me. I like this place.
I warm up and start working my chest. I do a variety of lifts and pull-ups in longer sets. Before long I’m breathing and sweating hard. The music pumps in my earphones, giving me that extra charge as I work out. Much of the worry and anxiety about the case, Carrie and my suspension begin to calm in my mind as I work out. My muscles wear down, and I force myself to continue. The sweet exhaustion that follows is one of the best ways to I make all of it go away.
I move on to my lower body routine. I begin with a series of a leg presses at a weight that would have killed me a few years back. Being a regular has made my body stronger than ever. My muscles pop and burn like a machine. I start to reach my limits when I feel a tap on my shoulder. The worried-looking gym attendant is standing behind me. He’s holding a bottle of water and signaling for me to remove my ear buds.
“Just checking to see if you’re okay there. Don’t want anyone getting hurt round here.”
I’m confused. I don’t figure out what he’s going on about until I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’m nearly purple with exhaustion. There’s a pool of sweat dripping off the equipment I’ve been using, and my face is locked in a grimace of pain.
Shit! I take a breath and realize I’ve been going too hard. I’m going have a heart attack if I don’t take it easy. I look down in frustration. I just want to be numb. As the attendant walks away I stand there chugging the water and looking myself directly in the eye in the mirror. Is this really the man I want to be?
I finish up my workout, and as I’ve been doing every evening, I drive to New Jersey and look for Carrie. I start at the
There was no love lost when I was cleared that time. And I assumed my association with Neon would have been common knowledge after that point. This new case seems like an intentional attack. I’m surprised I’m being called in again—with virtually no notice. There’s something going on, and I’d like to find out who’s really behind the last-minute scheduling.
Christ! I feel pissed. I worked so hard to change my life. It feels cruel to be facing this again. I’ve never used my sobriety or recovery as a crutch, but having to deal with it makes adversity like my suspension feel like I’ve been dealt more than I can bear. They never said life was going to be easy, but surely a guy deserves a break sometimes? I have to remember not to lose my cool. I’m sure I’ll be fine. In the meantime, I need to work out all this excess energy.
The gym is where I need to be. Sweating profusely, building muscle, and hitting a punching bag as hard as possible. That way by tomorrow, I’ll have released all that pent-up anger and frustration. Brenda walks in about five minutes after my last call, so I tell her I have to run and will catch up with her later. I run upstairs to grab my gym gear and head out.
Since all this spare time came my way, I’ve been training at one of the local gyms. It’s not the expensive, cookie-cutter health club franchise most people in the area go to. And the equipment is old compared to what I used at the station. The thing is, I just like the place. It’s got zero frills, just like me. All I want in a gym is a place I can go and get my body moving.
I drive faster than I should. I just want to get over there. I even play my pre workout playlist. It’s a combination of oldies and anthems from my teens. They do the trick of putting me in the right head space so I can push my body. I pull into the parking garage close to the gym. I’m pumped and ready to go. I take a long drink of my water bottle before stalking in like I own the place. It’s pretty barren inside. A few regulars nod at me. I like this place.
I warm up and start working my chest. I do a variety of lifts and pull-ups in longer sets. Before long I’m breathing and sweating hard. The music pumps in my earphones, giving me that extra charge as I work out. Much of the worry and anxiety about the case, Carrie and my suspension begin to calm in my mind as I work out. My muscles wear down, and I force myself to continue. The sweet exhaustion that follows is one of the best ways to I make all of it go away.
I move on to my lower body routine. I begin with a series of a leg presses at a weight that would have killed me a few years back. Being a regular has made my body stronger than ever. My muscles pop and burn like a machine. I start to reach my limits when I feel a tap on my shoulder. The worried-looking gym attendant is standing behind me. He’s holding a bottle of water and signaling for me to remove my ear buds.
“Just checking to see if you’re okay there. Don’t want anyone getting hurt round here.”
I’m confused. I don’t figure out what he’s going on about until I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I’m nearly purple with exhaustion. There’s a pool of sweat dripping off the equipment I’ve been using, and my face is locked in a grimace of pain.
Shit! I take a breath and realize I’ve been going too hard. I’m going have a heart attack if I don’t take it easy. I look down in frustration. I just want to be numb. As the attendant walks away I stand there chugging the water and looking myself directly in the eye in the mirror. Is this really the man I want to be?
I finish up my workout, and as I’ve been doing every evening, I drive to New Jersey and look for Carrie. I start at the
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