The Devil Doesn't Bargain

Chapter 9

Embers POV

My fists burned as I punched the hard leather bag. Hand to hand was always my strong suit but since I had finally been cleared for full boxing I realized just how badly I needed to train.

My feet stumbled sloppily as I tried to maneuver myself around the bag. Falling on my ass I let out a deep sigh. How the fuck was I supposed to do this next fucking mission if I couldn't get the basic footwork done?? Standing up again I took a deep breath, repositioning myself with the bag.

Onetwo dodge, three dodge, fourfive dodge... There we go, now I'm getting it. I repeated my moves again and again, slowly incorporating kicks. It felt good to train. My sweaty braid slapping against the nape of my neck, beads of sweat falling onto the rubber floor. My sports bra supporting my tits and my leggings shaping my ass, I glanced in the mirror and smirked. I looked damn good.

"Sloppy." A deep voice murmured.

"Yeah no shit sherlock. I just got back on my feet a few days ago. I'm still working on form over anything else."

"Well your form is shit." Ghost looked at me, his eyes cold.

"What is your fucking problem?" I growled, taking a sip of my now warm water.

"Nothin'. Just if we're going on a mission in two weeks and you're lookin like that I have zero faith in how it will go."

"Oh fuck you. Get the fuck out!" I pushed his chest, roaring at him

"This is public. I'm here to lift." His eyes pierced into my soul.

"Oi, Ghost." Price was leaning in the doorway. "We need to run through the mission, come to my office."

"Yes sir." Ghost looked back at me. "This isn't over you."

"You're damn right." I spat, turning back to the punching bag. What the hell was his problem! One moment he's all over me trying to claim me as his. The next he's a total asswipe!

My punches hit the bag harder and harder. I'm glad I wrapped my knuckles, if not who knows what damage would be done to them. A half hour past before I heard a knock on the doorframe.

"Hey lass!" Soap beamed, "Your form is lookin' much better!"

"Thanks... huff... Soapy.." I smiled, out of breath and caked in sweat.

"Need a sparing partner?"

"If you promise not to hold back." I smirked

"For you? Anythin'." He chuckled, getting into a stance.

We sparred for a good hour, bruises forming along our torsos and arms. Sweat dripping onto the rubber mat making it slick. Our breathing heavy and labored, hair messed up and slick with salt. My leg throbbed, clutching my calf tightly from my spot on the floor I seethed.

"Soap.. I need.. a timeout..." I whimpered, barely able to get up on my own.

"Shit.. I'm so sorry Em.." He panted, striding over to me and kneeling down. "Lets go relax..." Lifting me up slowly Bridal style he smiled at me. "I know a great movie we could watch."

"John..." I whispered breathlessly. Being so close to him felt different.. in a good way? Compared to Ghosts hulking frame, Soap was shorter, but somehow even warmer.. He felt like I was being carried by a space heater.

"Hm?"

"Nothin... Just thankful is all.." I mumbles, his laugh echoing in our little bubble as we made our way to the rec room.

"Aren't you sweet lass..." His voice rolling softly, gently sitting the both of us down on the leather couch. "Sit on that end, I'll rub down your leg."