Then he closed his eyes to avoid seeing either himself or the redhead.
"You want me to tell Zsadist you're not training tonight?"
John shook his head.
"You sure?"
Ignoring the question, John gave the water back and walked out to the gym. The other guys followed in a tense group, stomping over the blue mats and lining up next to him.
Zsadist came out of the Equipment Room, took one look at John's face and got good and pissed off. "Everyone put their hands out, palms down." He walked past each trainee until he stopped in front of Lash. "Nice Page 165
J R Ward: Lover Revealed
knuckles. Over against the wall."
Lash sauntered across the gym, looking self-satisfied that he wasn't going to have to work out.
Zsadist stopped in front of John's hands. "Turn 'em over."
John did. There was a heartbeat of silence. Then Zsadist gripped John's chin and forced his head up. "Seeing double?"
John shook his head.
"Nauseous?"
John shook his head.
"This hurt?" Zsadist prodded the jaw a little.
John winced. Shook his head.
"Liar. But that's what I want to hear." Z stepped away and addressed the trainees. "Laps. Twenty. And each time you get to your classmate over there, you drop in front of him and do twenty push-ups. Marine style.
Move it."
The groans were loud.
"Do I look like I care?" Zsadist whistled through his teeth. "Move it."
John started off with the rest of them, thinking this was going to be a really long night. But at least Lash wasn't looking quite so pleased with himself...
Four hours later, it turned out John was right.
By the end of the session, they were all exhausted. Z not only ground them into the mats, he kept them longer than usual. Like, centuries longer than usual. The damn training was so grueling that not even John had the energy to keep practicing after they broke for the night. Instead, he went directly to Tohr's office and collapsed in the chair without even showering.
Curling his legs up tight, he figured he would just rest a minute, then go rinse off-The door swung open. "You okay?" Zsadist demanded.
John didn't look over, just nodded.
"I'm recommending that Lash get kicked out of the program."
John jerked upright and started shaking his head.
"Whatever, John. That's the second time he's gone after you. Or do I have to remind you of the nunchakus thing a few months back?"
No, John remembered. Shit, though.
Page 166
J R Ward: Lover Revealed
With too much to say to be able to sign and have Z catch everything, he reached for his pad and wrote with extra neatness: If he gets kicked out, I look weak to the others. I want to fight with these guys someday. How can they trust me if they think I'm a lightweight?
He handed the pad to Zsadist, who held the pages with care in his big hands. The Brother's head dropped low and his brows crunched together, his distorted mouth moving a little as if he were sounding out each word.
When Z was finished, he tossed the pad on the desk. "I won't have that little shit beating on you, John. Just won't have it. But you got a point. I'll slap Lash with some serious probation. But one more of these happy little episodes, and he's out."
Zsadist walked over to the closet where the tunnel access was hidden, then looked over his shoulder. "Listen up, John. I don't want a free-for-all during training. So no going after the bastard even though he deserves it.
You just keep your head down and your hands to yourself. Phury and I'll watch him for you, okay?"
John looked away, thinking of how badly he'd wanted to clock Lash. How badly he still wanted to do that.
"John? We clear? No brawling."
After a long moment, John nodded slowly.
And hoped he'd be able to keep his word.
Chapter Twenty-three
Hours and hours and hours later, Butch's ass was so numb he couldn't tell where the floor ended and his butt began. All day long, he'd been sitting in this hallway outside of Marissa's bedroom door. Like the dog he was.
He couldn't say it had been wasted time. He'd done a lot of thinking.
And had made a phone call that had been the right thing to do, though a cringer to get through: He'd bitten the bullet and called his sister Joyce.
Nothing had changed at home. Evidently his family back in South Boston still had no interest in having anything to do with him. And that didn't really bother him because it was the status quo. But it did make