Spirit of a Champion (Sisters of Spirit #7) Read Free Page B

made him more determined
than ever.
    "Business?" She rubbed one hand across her eyes and
looked at him blankly.
    "Ah, yeah...your company's sending you there for some
reason."
    "No, nothing like that. I just have people I have to...to
talk to.
    It made Kyle even more curious He wanted to wipe away the stress
lines from her face.  "I don't mean to intrude, but—"
    “It’s not anything I can talk about.” She clipped off the words,
sharply.
    Well, that put you in your place, buddy.  One more try.   "We can talk
about the weather if you like. I hope you packed light clothes. "
    "I did."
    That sounded more forthcoming. "Where are you from?"
    "Idaho."
    "Oh. "  He couldn't think of anyone he knew there
and drew a blank.
    Her hair was cut in a short bob. He preferred women with long
flowing hair, but when Stormy moved her head, her hair swung and seemed to
beckon him.
    She chewed on her lower lip as if she was thinking hard, and
twisted her purse strap into a tight ball. Twist, release. Twist,
release.  Busy fingers.
    He looked past her out the window. Sometime during his struggle
to make conversation they had taken off. He glanced up. The seat belt sign was
out, and he removed his, angling his seat back to a more comfortable position.
    An attendant stopped beside him, holding a bottle in his hand.
"Champagne?" he asked.
    "Nothing, thanks." Liquor and championships didn't
mix. Kyle kept to a fitness regime that kept his strength up and the fat off.
It was embarrassing to see a fighter come out with a spare tire around his
waist.
    "None for me,” Stormy said. "Do you have any soft
drinks?"
    "They're on the next cart."
    Kyle could have told her that sugar was no good for her either,
but refrained.
    The steward moved the cart on down the aisle, and Kyle shifted
his long legs so that one stuck out partially into the aisle.
    His trainer and manager had flown on ahead to set up his
temporary training facilities, while he had taken his week's vacation. It had
been over a year and a half since his last fight, and he had been doing some
serious training the last three months. He was now prepared to do the finish
work required to get ready.
    Time to get back to his goals. Now that he had her attention, he
would start over again.
    "What did you say your name was?"
    "Stormy."
    Stormy. Ah, yes. Now there was a name. It certainly fit. But he
bet it wasn't her given one.
    "Nickname?"
    "Uh huh." But she didn't elaborate any more.
    “You have another name?”
    She just looked at him, a look that said, “Go away.” She really
didn't want to talk, but Kyle would not give up. It wasn’t his nature.
    Another attendant, another cart. Stormy asked for a can of apple
juice.
    Kyle nodded in approval, took one too, then returned to the
subject he was pursuing. “Would you like to talk about what's bothering you?”
he said, opening his tiny can. “Sometimes it helps to talk things over with an
impartial bystander.”
    “No.”
    So much for that, Galahad. Strike one. "Where are you
staying?"
    "I don't know.”
    "Don't you have reservations?"
    "No. I figure a place as big as Vegas, you shouldn't need
reservations. Besides, I didn't have time.”
    Strike two.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     “Most of the big hotels are pretty good,” Kyle said. “The
food is excellent.”
    "You've been there before?"
    "Yes. Every two or three years in fact." Whenever he
had a match. Otherwise, he preferred to work on his Texas ranch. His father
managed it, and managed it well—from his wheelchair. Kyle wasn't really
needed there.
    He had been thinking of retiring from boxing and going into
politics, for one or two terms only. The money from this fight would pay for a
campaign without having to take from the ranch...or putting himself in
"debt" to any special interests. He wanted to stay free from such
connections. Any connections. He had seen the havoc that crooks could do, with
their mega riches earned from gambling.
    He was doing great, and had avoided the mob