Catching her breath, she couldn’t find the energy to grumble that Sherry Moreno didn’t have the decency to look as wiped as Kat felt. Glancing at the wall-mounted clock, she was surprised it had been an hour-and-a-half session. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to hate you when I get out of bed in the morning.” The other woman shoved her towel into her bag, then rose to her full height about an inch shorter than Kat. “Did you hate me Monday?” She winced, remembering Sunday’s late-afternoon sparring session. Sherry took her martial arts seriously. “I plotted your murder.” Kat tossed her empty water bottle in the trash. The private training room in Sloane’s gym was starting to feel as familiar as her bakery, except Kat wasn’t hiding here as she once had in Sugar Dancer’s kitchen. No, here Kat trained to live not hide. Her aches and pains were welcome reminders that she was getting stronger. “But I was in too much pain to carry it out.” Sherry raised her brows. “I don’t think so.
