The Black Trilogy--Clean Version (Blackwood Security Books 1--3) by Elise Noble

Author:Elise Noble
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Undercover Publishing Limited

The next day, I reported for duty at the gym at five o’clock sharp, dressed for battle in running tights and a sports bra. How bad could it be? After all, I’d trained at least five times a week with Jimmy.

I soon got my answer. Every morning, a portal to Satan’s dungeon opened up in the doorway of the gym, and I was contractually bound to step through it. More than once, I checked to see whether Black had grown horns and a tail. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started poking me with a trident every time I stumbled on the treadmill.

After four mornings in the gym with him, I struggled to walk. I had so many bruises in delightful shades of green and brown I didn’t need to worry about wearing camouflage when he forced me to go running in the woods, and if I’d ventured out in public, I’d have needed to wear a burka to avoid getting dragged kicking and screaming to the nearest women’s shelter. On the plus side, he might have got arrested, which would have given me a day off while his lawyer sorted out the mess. Black was the meanest fighter I’d ever come across, and at JJ’s I’d met more than my fair share.

How I’d ever managed to break his nose, I had no idea. I couldn’t even get him to break a sweat now. He’d start me off on cardio equipment, maybe eight miles on the treadmill or thirty on the stationary bike, before moving on to weights, then boxing or martial arts.

My muscles stiffened up overnight and by the next morning, I’d barely be able to move, but Black made me run, cycle, lift, and jump again anyway. On day five, he did at least bring in a physio to loosen my muscles before I seized up completely.

Fight training became my nemesis. I already knew how to box, but Black began drilling me with weapons too. He had a series of punchbags set up, all with layers of foam taped around the outside, and he taught me to attack them with knives first, because he expected me to carry one from now on. Once I’d mastered blades, he moved on to anything else that happened to be around—a golf club, a hammer, keys, a rolling pin, a flashlight, whatever we picked up on our way to the gym.

There were times—many times—I wanted to tell him what he was asking of me was impossible, but I swallowed down the words. Why? Because everything he made me do, he did it too, and I couldn’t bring myself to admit defeat.

As I ate lunch after my third physio session, Black wandered in and sat opposite me. He’d already showered and moved with an ease I only dreamed of.

“I have to go away on business until the end of the week.”

“Thank goodness.” The words slipped out before I managed to stop them.

He looked at me sharply. “You still have to train, though. Gym at five, as usual.

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