“I was just on my way to find you,” Bash said, turning down a different hallway that led away from their room. “How about some training before lunch? You’re doing pretty well with the self-defense stuff, but I think you’re ready to learn some offensive moves. Just in case you ever have to deal with aggressive paparazzi or one of your little patients gets too rambunctious.”
“If I can’t handle a five-year-old without resorting to one of your ninja moves, I’m in serious trouble,” Sean replied, but he was content to go along with Bash’s suggestion. Bash had convinced him that learning self-defense was a necessary life skill, and after the events of the last few months, Sean couldn’t disagree.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard five-year-olds are tricky,” Bash replied. “Not that I have much experience with them, you understand, but I believe in the adage that it isn’t about the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”
Sean chuckled. “I suppose there’s always a first time.”
The training complex was the largest area Sean had yet seen in the complex, with every type of fitness equipment he’d ever seen and some whose purpose he couldn’t even guess at. There were mirrors along three of the four walls and stretches of padded flooring where both men and women were sparring in a variety of martial arts styles or performing kata. Doors along the fourth wall led to locker rooms, an indoor gun range, and various private training rooms.
Bash nodded as people called out greetings to them, but he didn’t stop to talk, instead taking Sean to the locker room so they could change into clothing more suitable for physical activity. Once dressed, they returned to the exercise area to do some stretching before sparring.
“I want to show you how to take the initiative,” Bash said once they were ready to start. “Say you’re walking down the street, and someone is following you, and you suspect they’re going to try to mug you. The first thing you can do is try to get around a corner and lie in wait for them. Listen for footsteps and be ready to attack.”
Sean wasn’t a naturally aggressive person, but Bash told him to remember how he’d felt when Faisal had ordered him taken captive, and to channel that anger and fear into making certain it never happened again.
Using one of the large foam blocks from the gymnastics area, Bash had Sean wait out of sight while he approached. Sean listened carefully, aware that Bash wasn’t moving as silently as he was capable of, and as he heard Bash reach the corner, he attacked, going for a strike to the throat. He barely missed as Bash threw his head back, but the expression on Bash’s face was approving.
“Excellent! You would have disabled a normal opponent.”
“But you aren’t normal, are you?” Sean asked, meaning it as a joke, but for once Bash’s reaction wasn’t a humorous one.
“I don’t think I ever have been.”
Not for the first time, Sean wanted to tell Bash about Nick, about how Bash wasn’t simply a part of Fortress. Bash was the reason it existed at all. But he held his tongue, determining instead to speak with Nick about telling Bash the truth. Not only did Bash deserve to know, but Sean thought it would also give him the stability Bash’s life seemed to lack. The gallows humor Bash displayed and the reckless disregard for danger spoke of someone who needed to do more than simply live in the moment.
Over the course of the last few weeks, Sean had picked up bits and pieces about Bash’s life before Fortress. Bash loved his mother, even idolized her to an extent, but Sean could tell from the way Bash spoke of her she’d not possessed the intrinsic nurturing instincts or warmth of Sean’s own mother. It seemed to Sean that Bash had missed out on some of the best parts of family life, and he wanted to fill that void.
“I’m not normal, either,” Sean said, reaching out and taking Bash’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I thought I was, but I guess that was just an illusion. But at least you have company, right?”
Bash gripped Sean’s hand tightly, the look in his gray eyes intense as he searched Sean’s face. Sean didn’t know if Bash was trying to judge his sincerity or if he was looking for something else, but whatever it was, Bash must have found it, since he drew in a deep breath, and his features relaxed, lips curving into a slight smile.
“The best company,” he said, and then his smile widened. “Just don’t let it go to your head, okay? After all, you’re already a Crown Prince. How do you top that?”
Sean laughed and rolled his eyes. “It’s only a technicality. I don’t feel any more like a prince than you do.”
“I’ve been called a royal pain before,” Bash said.
“Ain’t that the truth?”
Sean had been so focused on Bash that he hadn’t noticed anyone else approaching, and he glanced to his left, startled to find Greg Pritchett, Bash’s deputy and best friend, watching them with an amused expression on his rugged face. With black hair, ebony skin, and flashing dark eyes, he was an attractive man, and Sean might have been interested if he hadn’t met Bash first. He’d never asked if Bash and Greg had been “friends with benefits,” though the thought didn’t worry him. Sean wasn’t jealous by nature, but that Bash obviously only had eyes for him went a long way toward making Sean feel secure.
“Takes one to know one,” Bash replied, grinning at his friend. “What’s torn you away from your beloved engines? Are we on alert?”
“Nah, I was giving Nick an update on the mods for the drones.” Greg was a whiz with anything having to do with engines or electronics. “When the Big Man and I were done, he asked me to find you two and ask you to come to his office. Since neither of you seems inclined to carry your phones like you’re supposed to.”
“Can’t wear a phone while sparring,” Bash said, not seeming at all contrite. “I assume it’s not an emergency, since you have time to annoy us?”
“He didn’t say to make it quick, so I guess you have time to shower.” Greg gave Sean a playful wink. “If you ever get tired of this stinky hunk of meat and want to spend time with someone with a brain, let me know.”
Bash punched Greg gently — well, relatively gently — in the arm. “No poaching!”
Greg chuckled and rubbed his arm. “As if I could,” he said. “Go on, then. Even when the Big Man isn’t in a hurry, he still expects you to be prompt.”
“Yeah, he does.” Bash gave Greg a mock salute, then draped an arm around Sean’s shoulders and turned toward the locker rooms. “I wonder why he wants to see both of us. I guess we’ll find out soon enough, right?”
Fifteen minutes later, they had showered and changed and were headed down the long corridor to Nick’s office. Bash seemed to grow more pensive along the way until he was frowning slightly. Sean was tempted to ask him what was wrong, if Bash had figured out why Nick had asked to see them, but he held his tongue. As Bash had said, they’d find out for certain soon.
The door to Nick’s office was open, and Bash ushered Sean through before stepping in behind him. Nick was at his desk, intent on his monitors, but he looked up quickly as they entered.
