Free In His Good Hands by Joan Kilby

down the carpeted hall, talking animatedly about the coming weekend, when she’d stay at Amber’s apartment. Naturally, shopping featured prominently.
    Brett stalked back out to the balcony. Now that Amber knew how badly he wanted the money, she was going to be even more difficult about the settlement. There was no point going back to the bank and asking Renita for a third time. There had to be another way.

    W EARILY, R ENITA PUSHED through the glass doors of the gym for her training session. She was tired and strung out from sitting with her father at Smedley’s side last night until the veterinarian clinic had closed.
    The smell of fresh paint hit her as she walked through the gym doors. Tarps covered the floor. A man in splattered white overalls wielding a long brush was rolling on fresh cream-colored paint across the ceiling of the weight room. Brett was talking to a second painter mixing up a bright blue in the open space adjacent to the refreshment area.
    Janet, behind the desk, held the scanner to beep Renita’s membership card. “Brett won’t be long. Why don’t you warm up on the treadmill?”
    “All right.” She found her chart with her personalized program in the filing cabinet next to reception, and made her way to the cardio room. Climbing onto an empty treadmill, she punched in the program Brett had given her and started walking.
    Exercise was the last thing she felt like doing, so she adjusted the treadmill program to a low level of intensity. She ambled along, her gaze flicking between the digital readout of calories burned—ridiculously low—and the wall-mounted TV tuned to a talk show.
    “Hey, Renita,” Brett said, coming up beside her machine. “Let’s ramp this up.” Without waiting for her to agree, he pushed some buttons.
    “Hey!” Renita tripped, recovered and was forced into a jog. “It’s too fast.”
    “You can do it. You need to push yourself.”
    She tried to keep up, she really did. Two minutes into the new pace she felt her feet slipping out from under her. She shot her hands out and hit the big red Stop button.
    As the treadmill slowed she dragged her fogged glasses off and glared at him. “I can’t do it.”
    “Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but.
    She grabbed her water bottle and her towel. “I didn’t think you’d be one to hold a grudge.”
    She stalked out of the cardio room, consulting her chart as she entered the exercise room. Tegan, working on her laptop in the refreshment area, glanced up as she passed, but Renita didn’t pause or say hello. Grabbing a pair of five pound dumbbells off the rack, she began doing biceps curls.
    Brett took his time joining her. He watched her do ten curls, then barked, “Another rep. Keep your abs tight.”
    Renita gritted her teeth and started on the next ten. “I’ve had a terrible night, O’Connor. I don’t need any flack from you.”
    “Yeah, well, you’re not the only person who has problems.” He ticked off a column on her chart. “And just for the record, I don’t hold a grudge. After I left your office that day I came back here and socked the punching bag and worked out for a couple of hours.”
    “Did it help?”
    “Exercise always helps. It just doesn’t change any thing.”
    Renita struggled through another ten curls. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for us to work together. I’d like Janet to take over my training.”
    “No,” he said baldly, meeting her gaze and staring her down. “I took you on. I’m not going to stop just because we had a conflict outside the gym. Give me some credit for being professional,” he added, throwing her words back at her.
    She lifted her chin. “Fine, then. Do your worst.”
    Renita should have known not to issue Brett a challenge. He worked her twice as hard as usual, giving her double the reps that were on her chart. She did everything he asked, determined not to let him call her weak. At the end of the hour her clothes were soaked through with sweat and her