Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“I need a break.” Gray panted and collapsed on the rubber carpeting that covered about half of the studio. “Holy shit.” The sweat was pouring off him, and his tee that he’d discarded and used to wipe his face the past hour was out of reach.
Darius walked over and peered down at him. “When does the enemy attack?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. If Gray heard another quote from Murphy’s Laws of Combat, he’d flip his fucking lid.
“When they’re ready,” he replied, breathing heavily.
Darius hitched a brow. “And?”
Dammit. “And when I’m not.”
“Exactly.” Darius pointed toward another corner of the studio, the one where they’d been practicing martial arts. “Let’s go.”
Gray grunted and jumped to his feet. “I checked out the laws online, by the way. I like the one that reads ‘Don’t go to bed with someone crazier than yourself.’”
Darius laughed and threw him a bottle of water. “I guess you’re fucked, then.”
Technically, no. The only times they were alone were when they worked out. Jayden was upstairs reading, which had been Darius’s task for him. A brilliant move, Gray had to admit. They’d picked up children’s books in town because, as Darius had said, the boy needed to get used to going to school. Reading and solving simple math problems was a great start. And Leah enjoyed watching him, not to mention spoiling him with homemade cookies.
Either way, no getting fucked on the horizon for Gray. Anytime soon, at least.
He wasn’t complaining, though. He felt better than he had in a long time, and taking the smallest of baby steps was working.
“Any other rules you liked on the site?” Darius asked.
Gray took a swig of his water while watching Darius put on a pair of padded gloves.
“Yeah. ‘Military intelligence is a contradiction.’”
Darius smirked. “You realize that smartass mouth of yours only gets you into more trouble, right?”
“Whatever.” Gray capped the water bottle and threw it to the side. “Come at me, you old fuck.”
As tired as he was, the training with Darius had given Gray a lot of motivation to keep going. More than that, he’d started really listening to Darius, and he could control his temper better these days. It also helped that his physical strength was slowly returning.
But the thing that’d helped the most was realizing he wasn’t competing against Darius. He was competing against himself. It was about being better today than yesterday, because if he focused on the wrong thing—if he focused on defeating Darius—Gray would always lose. Which wasn’t a way of surrendering or saying he could never get stronger than Darius, but the dude had twenty years of solid, heavy-duty experience on Gray.
Keep your guard up. Never lower your guard.
Darius’s instructions from the past two days went on a loop as they began. Gray kept himself light and quick on his feet—his biggest skill from his hockey days. He’d always been fast and agile, and he refused to lose it. When Darius aimed for Gray’s shoulder, Gray swung sideways and returned with an uppercut.
“Good,” Darius grunted. “But remember—” He grabbed on to Gray’s elbow, twisted it upward and sideways, then delivered a light punch to his ribs.
Gray cursed as the pain spread.
“Don’t waste energy on blows that won’t incapacitate your attacker,” Darius reminded. “They’ll only leave you vulnerable.”
Right. The enemy wasn’t watching until you made a mistake, or however the saying went.
Taking a deep breath, Gray concentrated on Darius’s weak spots. Throat, eyes, nose, crotch, stomach… He flew forward, punched Darius in the gut, then quickly moved behind him and threw out his fist to the back of Darius’s head.
“Better,” Darius coughed. “Jesus, kid.”
Gray smirked.
It went without saying that Darius got the upper hand almost every time, but it felt great to catch him by surprise even once. And when it’d happened a second and a third and a fourth time, the ball was rolling.
After their workout, when they were showered and dressed—and goddamn starving—they went upstairs and trailed into the large kitchen to make a late lunch.
One of the counters was all stainless steel and long enough to serve a buffet on, and for the past two days, it was where Darius had baked bread. Another thing Gray had learned. The man didn’t buy bread at the store. He bought flour and yeast.
It was endearing as hell. And, frankly, sexy. There was no finesse to it, and yet he looked like a pro. No recipe needed, apparently. Water, yeast, salt, olive oil, flour. Then kneading…
Shit. Gray almost burned the omelet he was working on.
The bread wasn’t for now. Once Darius had prepared the dough, he dropped it in a large bowl and covered it with a damp towel. It would rise for a few hours before it was time to start dinner, at which point he’d cut the dough in two and shape them into loaves. He’d do all that without really paying attention, because that was when Jayden sat on the counter next to him and Darius quizzed him about geography and math.