MY SON’S MARTIAL ARTS INSTRUCTOR HUMILIATED HIM IN FRONT OF EVERYONE—THEN CHALLENGED ME WITHOUT KNOWING I WAS A FORMER NAVY SEAL ….
I removed my faded flannel shirt, folded it carefully, and set it on top of the boots. Underneath, I wore an old charcoal T-shirt. A small, barely noticeable scar ran along my left forearm. Blake watched with an amused expression. “You sure about this, old man?” I stepped onto the mat wearing only my socks. “I asked you to apologize to my son.” “And I told you to get on the mat.” “I heard you.” Someone near the back laughed nervously.
Blake began bouncing on the balls of his
feet, rolling his shoulders and loosening his arms. He looked every bit like a professional fighter. His chest was broad, his waist narrow, and his legs carried the strength of someone who had spent years practicing kicks against heavy bags. I didn’t underestimate him. That would have been foolish. Five state championships weren’t earned by accident. Whatever Blake lacked in judgment and character, his physical abilities were genuine. But there was something he had apparently never understood.
