The Wrath of Eli (The Seven Sins Book 1) Read online

  “This is Harper,” says Ernesto. “She’s from the paper.”

  “You’re from the paper?” He’s not repeating it, he’s asking it as if it’s a question, as if he’s shocked.

  “Yes.” Suddenly I feel self-conscious, as if I’m not properly qualified for this. I’m used to it, but I feel slightly out of place. “I’m Harper Lindstrom.” We shake hands, and I shake harder than usual.

  “She works for the Chicago Daily Herald.”

  “I’m aware of who she works for, Ernie, I was the one involved in the discussions.” He gives me a smile, but still looks at me as if he doesn’t know what to make of me. “Lou,” he says, “I’m Eli’s manager.” He eyes me as if there’s a problem. I’m relieved I had the sense to wear my dark trouser suit instead of my pencil-skirt, and that I swapped out the heels for my sneakers. I wish I’d gone easy on the makeup, too. It’s probably not a good thing that I’ve come in looking all dolled up, because I feel way too overdressed for this place already.

  I bet Merv knew this. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he was probably even cheering for it.

  “Go and get Eli, will you?” Lou asks.

  “No, don’t,” I say quickly. The reception from Lou hasn’t been so great, and I’m worried about meeting Elias. I’ve read that boxers are focused, and train like crazy. “I don’t want to disturb him.”

  The two men grin at one another, and I have no idea what’s so funny.

  “You should meet him. It’s better you get this over and done with now,” Lou insists, and nods at Ernesto to go bring him.

  “What do you know about boxing?” Lou asks as soon as Ernesto leaves. I’m beginning to think that he and Merv must have been separated at birth, because they both seem to regard me with the same level of condescension.

  “Well… I don’t know much,” I say, deciding that it’s better to confess. “But this isn’t so much about the techniques of boxing, as it is about the man who’ll be fighting the current heavyweight champion of the world. This story is inspirational to say the least. And, also, knowing about Eli’s past and how he came from a broken home.”

  “You did your paperwork, eh?” he asks, walking back to his desk and sitting down. Then he turns to some paperwork which he seems to find more important. I’m left feeling as if I’m not important at all, that he can’t even spare me a few minutes to pretend he’s interested in what I’m doing, given that I’m going to be here for a while.

  He’s still engrossed in his paperwork and doesn’t even look up at me, but I’m not left hanging for long because the door flies open and Elias Cardoza walks in.

  His face is dotted with sweat, and he’s still wearing his boxing gloves. The room seems to shrink because it feels as if this guy takes up so much space. He’s not huge. There are no bulky, rugby-ball shaped muscles on him, but there are tattoos. Beautiful tattoos all over his chest. I can’t stop staring.

  He’s lean, and toned, and a sheen of sweat coats his naked torso. He’s not a beast, but his presence is overwhelming in that suddenly small office.

  I forget to talk. I forget to breathe.

  He ignores me, even though I’m standing directly in front of him, and instead, he stares at his manager.

  “Eli, meet Harper Lindster.”

  “Lindstrom,” I correct.

  “That’s right,” says Lou, making no effort to get my name right. “Harper, meet Eli, the next heavyweight champion of the world.”

  With this glowing break-the-tension introduction, I expect Eli’s face to soften, but the guy throws me a look of pure loathing. I hold my breath, because I’m not relaxed enough to breathe. It takes me a few seconds before I inch forward. “Nice to meet you,” I say, but I stop myself from lifting my hand. Even if he wasn’t wearing those boxing gloves something tells me this guy wouldn’t want to shake my hand.

  He observes me with suspicion. If he’s surprised that I’m a woman, I can’t tell. In fact, I don’t think that face of his is capable of expressing surprise. He’s hard, and impassive, and he looks pissed even though, as far as I’m aware, I haven’t said or done anything offensive.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to get in your way,” I say, to fill the awkward silence that slithers around me. I feel uneasy. I can’t tell if it’s because my body is on high-alert due to his blatant dislike of me being here, or if it’s because I’m reacting to his overt sexuality. For I have to admit, he has an aura about him, something physical, and sexual, that rolls off his bare skin. I don’t think he’s aware of it, because he’s not looking at me as an object of any remote interest whatsoever.

  He’s looking at me as if I just messed up his day.

  “Remember what we talked about, Eli?” Lou says. Ernesto coughs lightly. The moment stretches out painfully.

  “Good,” Eli says. How he manages to make that word sound offensive, is beyond me.

  I try to smile, then look at Lou for instruction. Actually, I look at Lou because I can’t look at Eli. I don’t have these reactions to people. Not even when I’ve had a few drinks. I’m always in control of my emotions. I always keep it together, no matter what, but I don’t understand why my heartrate just sped up. I don’t have this reaction to men. I don’t.

  “Harper will be here for a month, Eli. Be nice.”

  “You told me.”

  He speaks, and his voice is richer than I would expect for someone so young; he’s twenty-four, if I remember correctly. His voice coupled with his bare-chested torso turns my brain to pulp.

  “She’s not going to be in your way,” Lou tells him.

  I take the cue. “I’m not,” I tell him in a rushed voice that I barely recognize as my own. “I won’t be. I’ll be discreet,” I say, and volunteer a smile. But he scowls at me. Nothing moves on his face. No upturn of lips, or the blink of an eye, and yet he’s scowling at me. I can feel it.

  “Make sure you do,” he growls, then exits the room.

  Ernesto gives a laugh, and the tension in the room breaks. “Don’t mind him,” says Ernesto, tapping me on the shoulder from behind. He’s been standing near the door the entire time. “He’s not the friendliest of guys.”

  “You can say that again.” Friendly isn’t a word I’d put within a ten-mile radius of Elias.

  “He’ll get used to it,” Lou adds. “Just give him his space.”

  I want to ask them both how they expect me to find out about him, and his motivations, and his routine, how they expect me to get information about his fighting methods and his mindset if the guy doesn’t want me anywhere near him?

  “You need anything?” Lou asks, clearly eager for me to leave so that he can carry on with his work.

  Even if I did I wouldn’t be asking him. “No,” I reply.

  “Come on,” says Ernesto. “Lou’s another one that doesn’t like people much.” He raises his eyebrow at the man. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  As we leave the office, I notice that Eli has stepped into the ring with a guy and they both start dancing around the ring.

  “Let’s find you a place to sit, and get you settled in,” offers Ernesto, and I feel a sense of relief.

  Chapter 4

  Eli

  A woman? You have to be kidding me. What the hell was Lou thinking? I hated this stupid idea before, and now I hate it a million times over.

  She looks as if she belongs behind the perfume counter at one of those fancy department stores.

  I don’t want her here, and I sure as hell don’t want her following me around for a month.

  After my sparring session with Santos, I climb out of the ring and see that she’s got a desk over by the wall.

  That’s all I need.

  I walk over to one of the benches and start taking off my headgear and gloves. I see Ernesto coming towards me, and instinctively I can tell he’s not amused.

  “That wasn’t nice.”

  I put my gloves down and say nothing.

  “Can’t you try to be civi
l?” he asks, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back. I glance over to the side. Princess is tapping away on her laptop.

  “She doesn’t belong here.”

  “It’s publicity for you.”

  I grunt. “I don’t need her to get me publicity.”

  “Garrison’s got the media and the people on his side. Who have you got?”

  My head jerks towards him and I’m too taken aback to give him an answer. Ernesto never has anything bad to say. “I don’t even know who the fuck this Harper Lindshit is.”

  “Lindstrom.”

  “She’s a woman. What does she know about boxing?”

  “That’s her problem not yours.”

  “She’s my problem.”

  “How? I don’t see her doing anything to you.” He answers so easily, that I’m starting to question his loyalty. But then I remember his two teenage granddaughters, and I reckon Ernesto is getting all protective over the Princess because she reminds him of them. He brought them to the gym once because they wanted a picture with me, and autographs, and a million selfies. Come to think of it, the eighteen year-old wanted my number, when Grandpa wasn’t looking, but I lied and told her my girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that. “Try and be civil, that’s all Lou’s asking. He’s not expecting you to take her out on a date. Who knows, she might have something nice to say about you.” He walks away before I get the chance to make a comment.

  Just then she looks up and catches me staring, I turn my back since it wasn’t her I was specifically looking at.

  I need to take a shower before I go to the Frankie’s Kitchen, a diner a few blocks from here, to have lunch. But before I head over to the locker room, I knock on Lou’s door and walk in. I have things I need to say.

  “You never said it was going to be a woman.”

  “I’m as surprised as you, kid.”

  “Are you sure she’s in the right place?”

  He laughs. “She’s going to be a real test of your mettle.”

  “She’s not supposed to be anything,” I spit back. “She’s only going to be a pain in my butt. A distraction. Can’t you see that?”

  “It’s exposure for the gym. It will help us attract more talent to this place.”

  I flick my gaze to him. I’ve given this guy more exposure than he’s ever had, and now that I have the biggest fight of my life before me, he’s going to get the biggest exposure yet. He should be grateful for me, instead of trying to find more fighters.

  I sulk silently because it’s better than exploding with all the anger that’s been building ever since he introduced me to her. .

  “She’s good for business, Eli.”

  “She looks out of place.”

  “Then don’t look at her,” Lou growls.

  I can block her out, because that’s how I survived. I blocked out the stuff that didn’t matter, and held onto the stuff that did.

  But even so, the idea of Harper watching my every move for an entire month makes my blood boil.

  Chapter 5

  Harper

  It’s the end of my first week here. I’ve only been here for four days but it feels like two weeks. And I haven’t managed to speak to Eli yet.

  I’ve tried. Meaning I’ve tried to get his attention. Each time I’ve tried to catch his eye he avoids looking at me. It’s plain to see that he hates me being around, and I’m giving him time to get used to me. I haven’t yet been able to summon up the courage to walk over to him and talk to him, but I can’t leave it too long. I don’t even want to begin to imagine what Merv and Gerry would make of this situation.

  “You don’t look too happy.” It’s not that Ernesto is a master of observation, it’s just that I don’t hide my feelings or wear my mask well. “I’m not getting anywhere,” I confess. “I’m supposed to be writing an information piece on Elias Cardoza, Chicago’s New Hope, and I have nothing.”

  “Mind if I sit down?” Ernesto asks, his hands resting on the wooden slat of the empty chair opposite me.

  “Please,” I say, grateful for the company. He’s been good to me, so I can’t complain. After all, he’s the one who got me this small table from his own office. I didn’t even know Ernesto had his own office. I suppose office is too fancy a word for this small room with a tiny window. It’s next to the utility room. He’s given me his desk because he claims he hardly ever uses it. He says he’s got no time to sit down and do nothing because the gym is falling to pieces and there’s something to fix every day.

  He set me up with this tiny working space not long after I arrived here. My desk is next to a power socket, so that I can recharge my phone or plug in my laptop when the battery’s about to die.

  Ernesto sighs heavily. “So, Eli’s not giving you anything, huh?” It so happens that Eli saunters past us at that very moment. He’s in jeans and a sweatshirt, and he’s late today, I notice. I usually get here first thing in the morning and then pop back to my office during the day if I need to, and then I pop back here in the late afternoon.

  “Not even a ‘hello’,” I complain. Still, I’m up to speed on this guy’s training regime and his diet, but I got none of that from him. I got it by talking to everyone around him; Lou, Ernesto, Santos and Jake who are part of his training team. I also find a few things online. None of this is from the man himself. And he still avoids looking my way or acknowledging my presence. “He doesn’t open up.”

  “He doesn’t talk much,” agrees Ernesto. His eyes are soft, and brown, and offer me a glimpse of kindness that I’m not used to here. Lou hides away in his office, and Eli still looks at me as if he wants to gouge my eyes out. I might have been a novelty the first week I was here, but now the rest of the boxers are used to me, and I’m as good as being part of the furniture. I’ve even dressed so that I fit in. Jeans, shirts, and sneakers.

  “What’s he hiding?” I ask, then smile to add a touch of softness.

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  The way he says it puts me on high alert. “He won’t give me an inch. I can’t reach him.”

  Ernesto tilts his head, as if agreeing. “It’s a boxer’s instinct.”

  “I’m a journalist. I’m here for a reason. He’s the interest and he’s not giving me anything.” I think back to a few days ago when I tried to make conversation with him, and he ignored me completely. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so rude before.

  “Tell me about you,” Ernesto asks, and because I know, because I’ve worked around enough creeps, I can see his request is genuine. He’s being polite, making me feel at home, or trying to, at least.

  He wants to know about my job, and how long I’ve been here, and about college and whether I liked it. He tells me he has two granddaughters and that’s why he’s asking, on their behalf. I can tell he dotes on them by the way his face lights up when he talks about them. So I tell him, and he asks me if I enjoy my work.

  “I’m never bored,” I reply, and I truly mean that. I can’t see myself sitting in an office doing admin work, or crunching numbers, but doing investigative work is exciting. At least I think it is, in this early stage of my career.

  “This must be strange for you?” Ernesto throws a glance around the room. “Maybe you’d prefer to cover more glamorous stories?”

  “Elias Cardoza’s story is interesting,” I say, because it is. It could never be glamourous, in the way most celebrity stories are, but it is definitely interesting. “He’s Chicago’s new hope, after all.”

  “He’s going places, that’s for sure,” Ernesto replies his voice full of conviction. “And he’s really not so bad, once you get to know him.”

  “He’s not giving me a chance.” I glance over at the punch bag which Eli is hammering hard right now.

  “Give him time.”

  “We’re into the second week.” At this rate I won’t have much to do, and my being here, in order to have access to Eli, seems pointless.

  “Gimme a minute,” he says, then gets up and strides ove
r to Eli. He has his back to us and it’s wet. He’s hitting the punch bag so hard that I can hear the sound even though I’m at the other end of the room.

  He stops when Ernesto says something to him. I’m so glad that Eli’s back is to me. If he could see me now, he’d give me a withering look even from where he is, and I’d feel the hate in it.

  But then Eli turns around. I want to sink into my chair, and become part of the ugly, uncomfortable plastic. I instinctively sink lower, my shoulders slumping as I pretend to stare at the screen. My phone beeps, signaling an incoming text and I check. It’s Gerry and he’s asking if I want to meet him for drinks tonight.

  Yes. I text back.

  While I’m at it, I check my emails as well. “Go and talk to him now,” Ernesto says, interrupting me.

  I swallow, and look up to see the beast beating the punch bag like someone deranged. I’m not so sure I want to go over to him.

  “Now?” I ask, my voice a whisper. “He looks busy.”

  “He’s annoyed that you’re going to take up his time.”

  I’m not convinced listening to Ernesto is a good thing. “Go on,” he urges. “He’s finishing off on the punch bag. You can grab him now.”

  I don’t want to grab him now or later, but it’s what I’m here for, and I don’t have a choice.

  Ernesto leaves, and I waste a few minutes trying to still my heart. I don’t understand this, why I’m feeling nervous, or why my heart is behaving like I’ve run a marathon. Nothing fazes me, and I hate that this does. That he does. So on the count of three, I raise myself, and then walk over to him feeling a complete phony as I try and look confident. He moves from the punch bag to the speedball.

  I wait, like a dutiful manservant, and watch from behind as he punches the speedball. My eyes take in the wide span of his shoulders my gaze rolls over the dips and curves of his muscles. Each time he moves the muscles flex. It’s easy to see because his skin is taut; there are no layers of fat. I hug my arms, feeling self-conscious.