“I doubt it. Are you going to hurt me?”
I laughed.
“Diego said that I need to do as you say, or you will hurt me.”
“No, I’m not going to hurt you, as long as you stay in line.” I chuckled as if I were joking. He’d find out sooner or later that pain would become his best friend if he didn’t fall in line. I had to get him to feel like I was on his side. “Besides, I don’t think that I could hurt you any worse than what your father has. Isn’t there a saying that the most painful wounds and injuries are ones that can’t be seen? The scars and holes left by your inept, deadbeat father will make you stronger,” I suggested even though I knew firsthand what neglect did.
“I guess. I don’t understand how I can erase his debt. Wouldn’t you rather have the money?”
In time, I’d have the money. But more importantly was that I build a viable, strong young team that would always be better than Hollis Ward’s young team. I needed to spin this for Nate so he believed I cared about something more than what I really wanted. I needed him to understand that deep down he hungered what I hungered for.
“You want to be a TCF fighter, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’ve been training with Hollis Ward’s Junior Team. I’ve been working hard to become his apprentice—”
I set my mug down rather harshly on the counter and counted to five to calm myself down.
“Rules. I haven’t really given you any. But I have one that you must follow. No more Hollis Ward worship.”
“But—”
“No!” I glared at him. I was surprised to see he hadn’t backed up or even flinched. “I’m going to train you to fight like I fought. Scrappy. You’re not going to fight like him. You have two objectives and main priorities. One, to learn how to fight at a TCF fighter level. And two, to keep me happy at all times. I’ll be honest with you, Nate… I hate Hollis Ward. Nothing angers me more than when I hear his name. I hate his little elite team of baby dragons or whatever the fuck he calls them. He ended my career, and now that he’s retired, my team—Team Silva—will begin taking over all weight classes of TCF. You’re going to be my gem along with Diego.”
“I was in line to be his protégé—”
I backhanded Nate so hard it knocked him off the barstool. I stood and towered over him. I grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and pulled him toward me.
“The sooner you get that fucking dragon out of your head, the better off you’ll be.”
“You can forget about it, because that will never happen!” Nathan yelled and stormed off to their room.
“We shall see,” I said under my breath.
Marcos
July
Time had flown by quickly since I'd brought Nate into my home. I thought we had been bonding well, all things considered, and I no longer felt like Nate was a flight risk. I’d even overheard Diego and Nate talking and laughing some. Things were going in the right direction.
Numerous times he tried to phone his father to tell him that he was okay and wasn’t being hurt. But either Joel simply didn’t want to pick up a call from his son, or his cell phone had been shut off for non-payment. Either were a believable possibility with Nate’s father. While it sucked for Nate, all his father’s continued silence was to my benefit. I wanted it to build anger, hate, and rage in him. Then I wanted him to unleash it on his opponents. I trained Diego the same way.
We’d spend the whole day training, and I tried to encourage Nate by reassuring him he didn’t have to fight for my attention, whereas he would have had to fight for that spot with Ward. Fuck being a protégé. Nate was my protégé which meant that he wasn’t Ward’s.
Nathan’s trust not only had grown with me, but with my head trainer, Max, too. I felt like I could trust Max to take him out to the store or the gym and not worry about getting a call saying that Nate had run off. I thought that showing Nate that I trusted him to let him out of the house was a good thing.
And then that trust came to a crashing halt.
Max, Nathan, Diego, and I had just finished eating at a restaurant and were casually walking to my SUV when out of the blue, Nate took off running toward the desert that backed onto the parking lot.
“Nathan!” I yelled as I took off after him in a sprint. I turned and looked at Diego. “Diego! Go get him!” Either Diego didn’t hear me, or he chose to ignore me.
I took off after Nate and caught up to him because his sneaker slid on the transition from asphalt to the dirt of the desert. Nate stumbled forward and fell, giving me a chance to catch him. Firmly, I grabbed hold of his bicep and pressed my knee against his upper back.
“What the fuck has gotten into you? Huh?” I yelled at him.
Nathan raised his hands off the ground, surrendering. Max finally appeared and wrapped his hand around Nate’s other arm, ready to help me stand him up. As we pulled Nathan off the ground, I quickly glanced over him and brushed the dirt off his shirt. Nate’s left palm was bleeding, and his chin was scraped. Thankfully, there were no onlookers as we made our way back to the SUV. I was grateful he hadn’t resisted on our way back to my Escalade. Diego was still waiting beside the SUV.
“Are you fucking deaf?” I slapped Diego in the face and then turned my attention to Nate.
