Page 75 of Keeping a Warrior

“Hold off for a bit,” Bradley said. “Just till we get a little more familiar with the area.” He indicated two Humvees that were revving up nearby, each containing a fire team of four SEALs. “Let’s get a couple of recon patrols under our belt, take the temperature of the area, and then we’ll plan our course of action.”

With nothing else to do, Devon and Rhys made plans to meet at the gym. When she walked into the facility about ten minutes later, a few Marines were already there—lifting weights, doing sit-ups and pushups, climbing the floor-to-ceiling rope.

They all stopped to stare at her.

Another gauntlet of eyes. Great.

Ignoring them, Devon headed for one of the rickety treadmills to do her warm-up. The guys continued to gape, intermittent laughter breaking out among them. At last they designated a spokesman, who sauntered over and propped his elbow on the treadmill console.

“Hey, ’sup.” The guy was young, tanned, good-looking. He grinned at her, showing even white teeth. “Whatcha doing?”

She didn’t even dignify that with a response.

Undeterred, the dude said, “They sure makin’ the nurses hot these days. Dang.” His hazel eyes took a trip up and down her body. Devon fought not to shudder. Guys like this fed off a woman’s reaction and damned if she was going to give it to him.

Rhys strolled into the gym, along with Grizz and Smudge. Immediately the grunts’ heads whipped toward them, identifying them as special ops due to their longer-than-regulation hair and Grizz’s heavy beard. Hero worship on their faces, they vigorously resumed their workouts in hopes of impressing them.

“Hey, Ms. Lowe,” Smudge called to her. “We’re doing the Murph today. You in?”

“Hell, yeah.” Devon jumped off the treadmill and grabbed a twenty-pound weighted vest from the pile of them in the corner. The Murph, a CrossFit workout memorializing a SEAL who’d been killed in action, consisted of pull-ups, sit-ups, pushups and squats bracketed with a one-mile run, all while wearing the vest.

She’d done it many times. To do it on a base in Afghanistan, with actual SEALs... She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

The grunts crowded around. “Hey, man. Can we join you, too?”

Flicking them a glance, Grizz scoffed, “Doubt you can keep up.”

“What?” One of the dudes was clearly outraged. “You’re gonna let her.” He stabbed a finger toward Devon.

“Yeah. ’Cause she can keep up.” Grizz said it in the patient tone of someone explaining something to a child.

The hoots were subdued, but clearly derisive. “Yeah, right,” the guy said. “Must be more fun watching her tits bounce than—”

Grizz’s jaw rippled in anger. “I’d suggest you watch your mouth,” he ground out, but Devon held her hand up.

“Don’t waste your breath,” she said before turning to the group. “Pick your best guy. I’ll beat his time.”

A few people backed off with muttered “Fuck no,” but one stepped up with an arrogant smirk. “You’re on.”

They all donned their weighted vests and waited for the digital clock on the wall to reach the next full minute.

“Go!”

There was a running route mapped around the base where two full circuits equaled a mile. The guy who’d challenged Devon surged to the front of the pack, accompanied by the chants of “Go, Moose! Yeah, Moose!” from his buddies.

He was fast. By the time Devon completed her mile, he was already puffing away at the pull-ups. His form was sloppy, face bright red and beaded with sweat, as he hammered them out one by one. Devon elected to do her squats first, slow and steady, aware of the grunts’ glee at their buddy’s superior performance.

His pull-ups done, Moose threw himself into some furious pushups, his desire to impress the SEALs written all over him. About halfway through his set, he started to flag visibly, his whole body trembling at the effort.

“C’mon, Moosey, faster!” his buddies exhorted him.

Devon’s pull-ups were tough, and she was puffing herself at the end of them. To give her upper body a break, she went right into her sit-ups. Nearby Moose was struggling with his. He was muscle-bound but lacked the core strength to power through them. He flopped down on his back and fought his way back up, managing one to Devon’s five. She was already well into her pushups when Moose struggled to his feet, laced his fingers behind his head and started some rapid squats.

“Yeah, Moose, you got this! Gonna beat her!”

Devon’s arms were jelly but she shoved away the pain, determined not only to finish her set, but do it with perfect form—arms fully extended, drop down, elbows at ninety, back up. Over and over.

Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.