I drain half the bottle in one go while Diesel prods the unconscious guy and girl on the ground. He talks quietly into his earpiece, and I know he’s calling in the cleanup team.
They always follow him here in a plain black van. Hiding in the shadows at the edge of the woods surrounding the field where we conduct our training sessions. Only revealing themselves when Diesel summons them to remove my bloodied and battered opponents.
I never fight the same combatants. It’s always new men and women. Usually a few years older than me. And I’ve often wondered who they are and where they come from. But I know not to ask questions. That was another thing Daddy taught me. I know they are here to help me. That they have kept this secret for years and that Diesel contacted me the day after Dad died to confirm the monthly weekend arrangement was still in place.
It seems, even in death, Dad is still protecting me.
Pain slices through my chest, attempting to infiltrate my heart, but I reinforce my walls and push the pain away. Like I do daily when the toll of Dad’s passing hits me anew, threatening to dismantle the armor I’ve spent years perfecting.
The best way I can honor the man, who meant everything to me, is to live the life he helped create for me. To be the person he shaped me to be. To force my emotions aside and focus on what needs to be done.
“Go shower,” Diesel instructs a couple minutes later. “I’ll meet you in the cabin.”
“Sure thing, Commander.” I toss him a sexy grin as I turn around, heading in the direction of the cabin that has been in my dad’s family for generations. My hips sway as I walk, and I can feel his eyes glued to my Lycra-clad body every step of the way. I shouldn’t tease him like this. Not out in the open where there are vigilant eyes, but sometimes, I just can’t help myself.
I walk into the cabin, instantly relaxing in the familiar surroundings. It’s been modernized over the years, and it’s more like a luxury vacation cabin now.
Originally, our ancestors built it as a hunting cabin, and I imagine it was more rustic and rudimentary back then. Now, it boasts split levels with four en suite bedrooms upstairs and a large open-plan living and kitchen area downstairs. The lower level also houses a game room, bar, small gym, and study.
Dad usually worked while I trained, and on Sundays, I would do homework at his desk while he grilled steaks. Out back, there is a wide decked area with a hot tub, outdoor eating area, and grill that we made good use of anytime we came here.
We’re surrounded by thick woodland, and there is no other property for miles. Access is via a high gated entrance, and the entire twenty-acre site is protected by barbed wire and high-tech security cameras. There is only one way on and off this property, and it’s always been my go-to safe haven.
Mom doesn’t even know about this cabin.
Something else Dad and I were keeping secret from her.
All those weekends he told her he was taking me camping up the mountains, we were actually coming here.
Dad loved my mom so much. Anyone who spent time in their presence could attest to it. They worshiped one another in a way I’ve never seen with any other couple.
But he kept a lot of shit from her.
I’ve kept a lot of shit from her.
I’m still doing it, but it’s necessary.
I’ve promised myself that if I ever fall in love it will be with someone on an equal footing. Someone I can tell all my secrets to. Someone who will protect me in the same way I protect him. Not someone I have to shelter and lie to in the name of keeping him safe.
I trudge up the stairs and into my bedroom, opening a window to let some cool air circulate, before I head into my bathroom. It takes time and energy to peel my sweaty workout gear off my body, but after exerting considerable effort, I step into the shower, sighing as the cold water hits my flesh.
I let my skin cool down under the cold water, and once my body temp has reduced, I adjust the shower settings to warm. I wash and condition my hair and scrub at my body, and then, I stand under the warm stream of water, allowing it to ease my tired, sore muscles.
I close my eyes and remember the first time Daddy brought me here for training. I was fourteen, and it was a few months after the event which changed my life.
“This nice man is going to help, buttercup,” Dad said, crouching down in front of me and taking my hands as I cowered from the strange man with the disarming smile. “He’s going to show you how to fight so nothing can ever happen to you again.”
That piqued my interest. “What kind of fighting?” I asked, directing my question at my dad and not the stranger even though it was the stranger who answered.
“We will start with basic fitness and combat training and progress to marksmanship and defensive maneuvering techniques, survival tools, and basic first aid procedures among other aspects. By the time your training is complete, you will be proficient in handling a variety of different weapons and you will be fully competent to protect and defend yourself against any enemy attacks.”
“When do I begin?” I asked without hesitation, my thirst for vengeance already in full flow.
As Diesel’s strong arms wrap around me from behind, I wonder if Dad would still consider him a nice man if he knew all the carnal ways my commander now knows my body.
_______________
I wake a couple of hours later with my face pressed into Diesel’s chest. I lift my head, startled to find he’s still here. We usually have a couple rounds of hot sex, and then he takes off, not lingering for small talk.
We both know what this is.
That it has boundaries and a time limit, and I’m more than okay with that.
I learned how to separate my emotions from the act of sex when I was fifteen and I willingly gave my virginity to the guy I was fake dating at the time.
Back then, I entered into a sexual relationship understanding it wasn’t, and never would be, love, and it helped me approach the physical act as just that. A way of experiencing untold pleasure without looking for anything but an orgasm.
It has stood me well.
I’ve never fallen in love with any of my sexual partners or either of my two previous boyfriends.
Both those relationships served a different purpose anyway.
So, if Diesel is still here, it means he wants to talk.
I prop up on one elbow, placing my hand on the solid wall of muscle that is his chest, peering into his eyes. “Did you sleep at all?” I ask, tracing patterns against his skin.
“No.” He runs his hand up and down my back.
“So, you were just watching me like a legit creeper?” I tease, touching the old scar tissue on the left side of his chest.
“Pretty much,” he agrees, offering me a rare smile.
Diesel takes his job very seriously, and it still amazes me that we fell into bed in the first place. After the first session I had with him, post Dad’s death, I was so consumed with grief I pounced on him, and I think he didn’t have it in him to turn me down.
Plus, I’m experienced enough to know how to please a man, and I’m certain he’s enjoyed our illicit trysts even if it battles with that sensible, logical part of his brain.
“You’re so beautiful, Harlow,” he says, placing his hand over my left breast. “And I’m not just talking about the outside. Your inner strength and your indomitable will to survive is the most beautiful thing about you. I wish I was ten years younger so I could be worthy of you.”