by Xenia Melzer
Jonathan opened his mouth to comfort Greg when Garrett beat him to it.
“Emilio told me your gym is close to Little Havana. Is that correct?”
“Yes. We’re the building at the corner. Or were.” Greg sounded as tired as he looked.
“Well, I’m going to open a gym only two blocks from there in a week. Everything is more or less ready except for a few minor things. You could do Leeland’s training there, and if you explain to me who or what Hinode is, we can find a solution for that as well.”
For the first time since he had come into the apartment, Greg looked hopeful.
“Hinode is Misaki’s charity. He teaches street kids martial arts. At the moment there are thirty children in the program, aged twelve to seventeen, mainly boys. They can usually come over every day after school, but if we could have just two days, that would be great already. Just until we find a place.”
“Nonsense.” Garrett was talking in his take-charge voice now, one Jonathan usually hated hearing during training. It always meant he was going to be sore and sorry for himself. “My gym is big. We can easily have the children over every day. As for your other members, they are welcome as well. I’m sure we can work something out schedule-wise. That way you don’t have to stress over finding a new place on top of everything else. You can concentrate on Leeland’s training like you should, considering what he’s going to be up against.”
Greg stared at Garrett as if he couldn’t believe the man, and Jonathan could relate. He knew that, under his gruff exterior, Garrett had a heart of gold; he just hadn’t thought it was also as deep as a mine.
“Why are you doing this? I mean, thank you, but—why?” Greg seemed to fall over his own words.
Garrett shrugged as if what he had just offered was nothing.
“First of all, Leeland is a good friend to Emilio, and my boy needs friends like him. I’m grateful he has taken Emilio under his wing. Second, I like Leeland as well. He’s a good man, one of us. He deserves all the help he can get, and he most certainly deserves beating that stupid asshole, Noah Adams. I’m not going to lie to you, this is also great publicity for me and my business. And I’ve been thinking about adding martial arts to my choice of courses in the gyms. The market is definitely there. Plus hosting a UFC fighter who is going to be in a championship fight? That is going to draw a lot of clientele in. We have to hash out the details, but with two experienced trainers like you and Misaki, I’m sure we can offer customers something unique. Perhaps you and Misaki might even decide to partner with me. Then you won’t have to find a new gym.”
Greg just stared with his mouth open. Jonathan had to hide a grin. Garrett might be acting as if his grand gesture was mostly business oriented, but Jonathan knew him better. Garrett Kiernan wanted to make his boy happy. Emilio admired Leeland, and by helping Leeland, Garrett made Emilio very happy. Martin had been right. The big, scary Dom was on his way to becoming a member of the sap club. Not that Jonathan would ever tell the man that to his face. He wasn’t brave enough and enjoyed being able to walk after a training session.
Greg rose from his stool, grabbed Garrett’s hand, and started shaking it like a madman.
“Thank you! Thank you! This is the first good thing happening today. I need to tell Misaki. You’re taking a load off our shoulders. Thank you!”
Garrett smiled. “Why don’t you call Misaki and ask him if we can meet at my gym? I can show you around, we’ll talk, and see what needs to be done.”
“Yes, yes. I’m calling him right now.”
Greg hurried out of the kitchen to have some privacy. Garrett turned to Jonathan.
“Can Emilio stay a little longer? As soon as I’m done with Greg and Misaki, I’m going to pick him up.”
Jonathan grinned. “Sure. I don’t think he has a problem with that.”
“Good. Don’t tell them what Greg and I are up to. I don’t want them to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”
Yes, sap club, welcome your new member. Jonathan tried to look serious and failed miserably, if Garrett’s sour look was any indication.
“Misaki says he can get away from the police in twenty minutes.” Greg sounded a bit breathless.
“Wonderful. Let’s go. I’ll give you the address. You pick Misaki up, and we’ll meet at my gym.”
Garrett and Greg hurried to the door. Jonathan saw them out and kept his fingers crossed that everything would work out.
Chapter 18
“COME ON, Leeland, one more round! Get your act together!”
Garrett’s voice boomed through the training room, where Leeland was trying to keep Jonathan on the ground with the force of his thigh muscles alone. He imagined they looked funny, his big, burly Dom trying to wriggle out of Leeland’s legs that were slung around his waist in a submission hold. Jonathan was strong and Leeland’s thighs burned with the strain. He managed to hold on for another minute or so—to Leeland, it felt like an eternity—before he couldn’t keep Jonathan down anymore. His Dom broke free and got on his feet. Leeland stayed on the ground, on his back, panting heavily.
“Not too bad, but you can do better!” Garrett was looming over him, his hand outstretched to help Leeland up.
“Why did Greg and Ojisan have to include you in my training? Why did you have to say yes?” Leeland knew he was whining and didn’t care. He let Garrett pull him to his feet.
Garrett grinned. “I could say it’s because I have a good heart and want to see you win, but we both know I’m a sadist down to my bones and enjoy making you squirm. I have to admit, though, you’re tougher than your so-called Dom.”
From the corner of his eye, Leeland saw Jonathan flip Garrett the bird, a gesture the other Dom responded to by maturely returning it. As gruff as Garrett pretended to be, Leeland knew he was invested in his training because he wanted to see him win. He was eternally grateful to Garrett for offering his gym after Misaki’s place had burned down three weeks ago. Garrett, Misaki, and Greg had by now agreed to become partners. The news that Garrett had a UFC fighter and his trainers in his new gym made the member numbers skyrocket. Leeland was glad that Garrett’s noble gesture benefited him. He wouldn’t have known how to repay the kindness Garrett had shown—was still showing by helping with Leeland’s training so Misaki could deal with all the tedious business regarding the fire. Investigations were still ongoing, though neither the arson investigator nor the police were forthcoming with how things were progressing, most probably because of the media attention the case was getting. The weirdest rumors were flying around, many of them linking the arson to the upcoming championship fight, though there was no proof Leeland knew of. Since the antigay pejoratives on the walls of the neighboring houses had been mixed with racial slurs, it wasn’t clear who the arsonists had targeted: Leeland because he was gay, Greg because he was African American, or the gym in general because Misaki was helping the—mostly African American and Latino—neighborhood kids to escape their life on the streets. It wasn’t even confirmed if this had been the doing of a single person or a group. Noah Adams had kept suspiciously quiet about the arson, only posting a statement that had clearly been formulated by his PR manager, saying he condemned this kind of behavior and felt for Leeland having lost his training base so shortly before the fight. If Leeland had cared more about what his opponent had to say, he might have been disheartened by the none-too-subtle dig at his inadequate preparation for the match, but as it was, he was simply glad that Noah didn’t add fuel to the flames by spouting whatever nonsense came to his mind.
Despite the lack of official information, Leeland was glad how things had turned out. He even got to train with Jonathan at least twice a week. He suspected this was mainly because Garrett liked to see Jonathan suffer, but he wasn’t complaining. Having three trainers breathing down his neck was decidedly exhausting, though combined with his determination to show Noah his place, his chances of winning were increasing. Leeland’s parents had taught him to be modest but realistic about his talents,
which helped him assess his chances without becoming overly confident or feeling discouraged.
“You’re done for today. Get under the shower!”
Garrett’s voice pried him from his musings. Leeland smiled when he saw Jonathan approaching him, hand outstretched, to take him to the showers.
“Not you, slacker!” Garrett sounded entirely too much like he was enjoying this. “You still have some weight lifting to do. We don’t want to waste time while you’re eating healthily. I know you’ll be back to all that pig food you like so much as soon as Leeland’s fight is over.”
Leeland grinned and snuggled against Jonathan’s—by now admittedly rock-hard—abs, stroking the muscles through the fabric of his shirt. He enjoyed how that made Jonathan shiver.
“Don’t be mean, Garrett. I love my master the way he is.”
“Thank you, boy.” Jonathan kissed him on the temple.
Garrett snorted. “Do you want to do some extra rounds, Leeland?”
Leeland took a few hasty steps back from Jonathan. “No-o. Not really.”
“Then I suggest you stop undermining my training, boy.” Garrett raised a brow.
Leeland shot Jonathan an apologetic look before he backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, Jonathan. You heard my trainer. I have to go shower.”
“Traitor,” Jonathan mouthed, his own back turned to Garrett so he couldn’t see him.
Leeland blushed, grinned, and ducked outside before Garrett could change his mind.
WHEN LEELAND came out of the shower twenty minutes later, he found Emilio changing next to his own locker.
“Hey, Emilio. What are you doing here?”
The shy young man turned to him with a smile. “Hey, Leeland. Master Garrett has asked me to come here for some extra training. He said since he’s already here and it’s on the way for me, we might as well squeeze in some extra time.”
Leeland let his gaze roam over Emilio’s bare chest. He was reaching for his T-shirt, and all the muscles moving smoothly under his bronze skin looked mouthwatering.
“The training becomes you. You have bulked up nicely.”
Emilio blushed and ducked his head. “Thank you. Master says I still have a long way to go, though.”
Like at a few occasions before, Leeland had the nagging feeling that something was wrong with how Emilio sounded. He wasn’t unhappy, as far as Leeland could tell, but there was an undertone in his voice, one Leeland couldn’t quite place.
“You know you can always tell him to back off a bit?”
Emilio blushed even harder.
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s stressful sometimes, but he really cares about me.” Emilio was silent for a moment. “Nobody has cared for me in a very long time. I’m not going to jeopardize that. Not for anything.”
Leeland simply pulled Emilio into a hug. The young man rarely talked about his time on the streets and never about what had happened between him and his parents. Having grown up with all the love and support a child could wish for, Leeland couldn’t imagine what it was like not to have it and how that would affect one’s social life and behavior.
“You have a lot of people who care for you, Emilio. You just have to let us. You’re no longer alone, sweetie.”
They both chuckled at the endearment Peyton usually used when he wanted something.
“I know, Leeland. And I’m grateful. It’s just… landing somebody like Master Garrett is like a dream. When he first asked me to do a scene with him, I thought I’d swoon.”
“How ladylike of you.” Leeland tried to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, because Emilio pulled out of their embrace, smiling.
“Yeah.” He shuddered. “Imagine what kind of impression that would have made.”
“Only the best. There are dozens of Doms who like their subs on the fragile side.”
“Not Master Garrett, though.” Emilio sounded wistful while he looked down at his chiseled abs. If Leeland wasn’t mistaken, he could see the beginnings of an eight-pack forming there. Garrett definitely knew what he was doing, even though he tended to get a bit extreme sometimes.
“No, not Master Garrett. Good thing you didn’t swoon.”
“Yeah, lucky me.” Emilio glanced at his watch. “Damn. I only have fifteen minutes left to get warmed up. It was nice talking to you, Leeland. See you!”
He pulled on his shirt, grabbed a bottle of water, and was out the door before Leeland could say his goodbyes. Leeland wasn’t offended. He, too, would never make Garrett wait. It just wasn’t healthy. He wondered if he should talk to Garrett about Emilio’s lack of self-confidence, his need to prove himself all the time. Then again, Garrett was a capable Dom, and he truly liked Emilio. If he hadn’t figured out Emilio’s problems by now, he didn’t deserve to be with him. And perhaps all the relentless training was Garrett’s way of trying to build Emilio’s self-confidence? Leeland sighed. This wasn’t a problem he could solve instantly. It would have to wait until after the fight was over and he could focus on finding out what exactly the issue was.
He started rummaging in his bag for the cocoa body butter Dean had given him a few days before. The moment he found it, his cell started to ring. Slightly annoyed, Leeland took it out from the side of the bag to look at the screen. When he read the name there, the frown on his face turned into a smile. He swiped the screen to accept the call.
“Hi, Carlos! How are you doing?”
“Hi, Leeland. I’m fine—more or less. I just wanted to know how your training is going? Is the sadist still bothering you?”
“I just had a session with him. I think he gets crueler every time we meet. Today he made me do submission holds for over an hour. I can’t feel my thighs anymore.”
“Poor you. I’d say I’ll kiss it better, but your boyfriend would probably kill me if I tried.”
They both laughed. Leeland enjoyed the playful banter between them immensely. Since the gym had burned down, Carlos had sent him at least one text every day in an attempt to cheer him up and had called every second day to lend his support. He obviously had no problem with Leeland being gay, which had restored Leeland’s faith in humankind somewhat. Not all people were assholes. The assholes were just the ones who screamed loudest. Leeland was grateful for having found such a great new friend. And he loved talking to somebody who could relate to his situation.
“Yeah, better not. I like you the way you are—with all limbs attached.” Leeland turned serious. “Is Mason still mad?”
Carlos’s stepdad and trainer had gone ballistic when he heard Leeland would be fighting for the championship belt. Apparently he didn’t like a fag, as he had put it, receiving that chance. Carlos had only reluctantly told Leeland about Mason’s antics, not wanting to put further pressure on him, but Leeland had gathered from Carlos’s strained tone that something was wrong and had insisted on knowing. He had come to the conclusion that Mason was a major idiot who didn’t deserve working with an amazing fighter like Carlos.
“Yep. Not a day passes without him starting a rant about how he doesn’t understand why Sean Shelby chose you to fight Noah Adams. He doesn’t have a problem with Noah, though.”
Leeland couldn’t see Carlos but knew his friend was probably shuddering the same way he did. Noah was just nasty.
“Have you thought about my offer?” When it had become apparent how bad Mason was, Leeland had asked Carlos to come to Miami and meet his ojisan. He had to get away from that toxic man.
“Yes. And I think I’m going to take it. I’ll wait till after your fight, then I’ll come to Miami. I really can’t stand listening to his homophobic slurs any longer.”
“Great. Just give me the word.”
“I will. And you focus on your training. You have an asshole to beat in two weeks.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach. I appreciate it.” Leeland said it in a serious tone. He was glad about Carlos’s support. Even though he had the love and backing of his family and friends, the aid of a fellow athlete carried a special w
eight. More than Leeland would have thought. Of course there were quite a lot of UFC fighters who had congratulated Leeland on being out, but none of them had contacted him personally, not like Carlos. For that alone, Leeland would be forever grateful.
“You’re welcome. I have some traveling to do the next three days, but I’ll make sure to call you after that.”
“Okay, Carlos. Have fun!”
“You too!”
They both ended the call, and Leeland finally started unscrewing the lid of his body butter. He was just about to scoop some of it up when a deep, sexy voice coming from behind stopped him.
“Wait, honey. Let me do that.”
Leeland turned to see Jonathan standing in the door. He was dripping sweat.
“Oh my God, what did he do to you?”
Jonathan managed a weak grin. “Let’s just say I’m going to do a happy dance when your fight is over and I don’t have to see Garrett’s ugly mug every day. Twice a week is more than enough. Or I could just change my personal trainer. That man loves torturing me way too much.”
Leeland approached Jonathan to press a kiss to his lips. When Jonathan tried to embrace him, he jumped back with a squeal.
“Don’t you dare! You’re all sweaty and gross while I’m already showered.”
“I thought you liked my manly scent?” Jonathan waggled his eyebrows. “And I still need to punish you for abandoning me before.”
“I didn’t abandon you. I just followed my common sense.”
“And abandoned your master. I won’t forget that, boy.”
The teasing tone in Jonathan’s voice, as well as the gleam in his eyes, told Leeland how much his lover enjoyed their banter. He let his eyes grow big and looked up to Jonathan in a pleading manner.
“I’m sorry, Master. Please, let me make it up to you. What do I have to do? I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
Before Leeland could duck out of reach again, Jonathan grabbed him around the waist and pulled him against his sweaty, stinking T-shirt.
