“He doesn’t like him,” I say. “He likes to roll in cat shit, though. I’ve seen him do it.”
“Are you likening Brad to cat shit?”
“No. I said Montylikescat shit.”
“Oh my god, you’re so…”
I wait for her choice insult, but nothing comes. Instead, she sighs and looks down at her phone.
I pull onto the road, leaning back in my seat as I drive.
“The cabin Wi-Fi will be disabled. The only thing your phone will be good for will be as an alarm clock for our morning sessions,” I inform her.
“You’re kidding? Denver?” she presses when I don’t reply. “Seriously? What am I supposed to do without Wi-Fi?”
“You won’t need it.”
“Wait? What sessions?” She shoves at my ribs. “Den?—”
“I’m going to train you.” I sneak a look over at where she’s fallen into silence. “You want to go back to the city for your show next week? Then you’re going back prepared.”
“Prepared?” She scrunches up her face. “So what? You’re training me in how to be a Brute?”
“I’ll teach you how to defend yourself and get out of a situation you don’t want to be in.”
She sags into her seat, her face twisting over in thought. “You’re teaching me?” she muses.
“That a problem?”
“No,” she mutters. “Because I’ll kick your ass.”
I glance at her, but she’s still staring out of the window.
“Boot it to the fucking moon.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder.
My lips tilt up. “Good. Keep that fire. You’re going to need it to fight me.”
“Uh-huh, Brute, whatever you say,” she sing-songs. “You’ll get your ass handed to you.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, amusement bubbling in my chest. “We’ll see, Princess. We’ll see.”
17
SINCLAIR
“Ugh!”My breath is forced from my lungs as Denver lays me out on my back on the mat with a thud.
“Again,” he clips, holding out his hand to help me up.
I stand, ignoring his offered hand and climbing to my feet. I wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm.
“I’m just warming up,” I pant, fighting to catch my breath.
“I know,” he replies. “You want to take a minute?”
I narrow my eyes at him. My warmup has consisted of him making us run a three-mile trail through the woods that surround his secret cabin, and then having my legs kicked out from under me by him five times in as many minutes. We only arrived a couple of hours ago, but he said we should get straight on with it. And true to his word, the Wi-Fi in this secret lair of his has been disabled. Even Monty’s no company. He’s been sleeping on a rug in the living area since we arrived. So I have nothing else to do. It’s either count treetops or start training so I can get back to the city as soon as possible.
“No,” I huff.
