Chapter 43
The gym was packed, a fact that shocked the hell out of Mason. He’d never been at that time of the evening before and he got a strange thrill when he walked past the muscle-rippled bodies of men forcing themselves into testicle-popping lifts. You could be out dancing, he thought. You could be eating something fantastic in a restaurant, lifting a glass of wine instead of those weights. He grinned at a man scurrying for the exit, hair still damp from a shower, briefcase clasped in fist, glaring at a wristwatch. And you, he told the man silently, you should have been home by now.