Page 22 of Boy Toy Not Included

Kuba: I’ll be back there in a minute. Since I need my man hydrated for the work he’s about to put in, I’ll grab it.

Kuba:Just joking. I would’ve gotten it anyhow.

Kuba:Not joking about that workout though. You should stretch.

Mom: I saw on the news that Kuba accepted another challenge from that Dread guy for the championship.

Diesel:Yeah. He’s doing interviews right now.

Mom:Shouldn’t you be watching him instead of your phone?

Diesel:HA! You would’ve called the police if I hadn’t answered your text. Don’t worry. He’s doing virtual interviews. Jayme says it’s a bit of a slight toward Dread—like he’s so unworried about the guy that he won’t even leave the house to talk about it.

Mom:Brutal. You always hear stories about how good of friends all these people are outside the cage. It doesn’t sound like it with this insider knowledge.

Diesel:Jayme says that’s true. Some of his best friends are people who’ve kicked his ass. Apparently, this is different. Both Jayme and Kuba hate Dread. No one ever says why, though.

Mom:Sad. Oh well. I hope Kuba kicks his ass.

Diesel:I’m pretty sure I’m in love with this guy. Please don’t say anything about how it’s only been five months.

Mom:SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

It just never got old watching Kuba train. The closer time moved toward Kuba’s fight, the more focused he became. Diesel didn’t spend quite as much time watching as he did in the first few months. The sessions got longer, and something about Kuba hardened. Diesel liked him a lot better once Kuba showered and got away from that headspace. Kuba was totally himself when he left work behind. Diesel didn’t let it get under his skin. He had a job to do as well.

Diesel walked around the warehouse perimeter. He checked each camera to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with. Diesel checked every possible entry point. His gaze scanned every inch of the property, looking for the tiniest of details, even if was only nails scattered in the parking lot. Diesel got the impression the twins must have been mollified by Kuba accepting Dread’schallenge. Either that, or they knew they had gone too far and made themselves scarce. No matter the reason, the two hadn’t popped up again. Diesel wasn’t complaining. It was just odd.

Jayme poked his head out the door. “Hey there, mate. Can you take over for me? I just got the call. My sister is in labor.”

A smile exploded across Diesel’s face. “Hell yeah. Go hold that girl’s hand. I’ve got you covered.”

Jayme wore a huge grin and didn’t hesitate to run for his truck.

Diesel caught himself smiling. It seemed Jayme and his sister only had each other. He had never seen a man more excited to be an uncle. Diesel strolled inside and took off his shirt. He already knew from the countless times he had worked with Kuba that the material wouldn’t last long before it would be soaked in sweat and hindering his motions.

Kuba smiled as Diesel approached. “Damn. He’s gone already, huh?”

“Ran for the car,” Diesel said with a laugh as he stepped onto the mat. He moved to retrieve the hit mitts Jayme had discarded in his rush.

Kuba waved him off. “Nah. We were finished with that. It’s time for holds.”

Diesel fought back a groan. This was nowhere near the first time he had worked with Kuba doing the actual fighting. This part wasn’t about taking a hit. Diesel was strong. He could absorb the blows through the padding. Diesel was also quick, so he could block kicks with the mitts. But resisting being pinned was a different matter. Kuba had skills that Diesel could never match.

“I have no idea how this helps you when I’m so easy to take down. You definitely need someone at least somewhat equal to Dread.”

Kuba bounced on his toes. “Dread is easy to take down. Honestly, you’re tougher than he is.”

Diesel shot Kuba a disbelieving look. “You don’t have to flatter me. I still plan to help.”

Kuba shrugged, looking every bit as serious and determined as always when he worked. “I’m not fluffing your ego. With Dread, you don’t want to get hit. That’s why blocking is such a huge portion of my training. That motherfucker hits like a semi. If he gets a solid one in, you’re out. He will knock you all the way into next week, leaving you wondering where all the time in between went. But if you can dodge his fists and get a grip on him, he’s down. Can’t break a pin to save his damn life. You’re a lot harder to pin than he is.”

Okay. Diesel had said Kuba didn’t need to flatter him, but dang. His ego was kind of fluffed. Kuba was a real athlete—like, for real, for real. He was a champion for a reason. No one could beathim. It was kind of cool to think he didn’t make winning easy for Kuba.

They circled each other on the mat, eyeing each other. A heartbeat before Kuba pounced, a small smirk touched his lips.

Diesel easily avoided the move. “Oh my God. You have a tell.”

Kuba immediately froze. “The hell I do.”