Vicki Essex - In Her Corner

Bella read between the lines and nodded. “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”

They went through warm-ups and conditioning—jumping jacks, pushups, burpees. Bella watched as Shawnese halfheartedly followed along. She sidled up next to her and smiled. “Hey.”

The young woman turned a suspicious eye on her. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Is it okay if I stand here with you? There isn’t enough room on the other side.”

She shrugged.

With Bella there, Shawnese followed along more closely. When Kyle told them to break up into pairs, Bella immediately partnered with her.

The exercise was to show the difference in strength using open and closed hands. One person would rest their arm over the other person’s shoulder while they tried to bend it at the elbow. Invariably, the open-handed method always stayed straight.

“I don’t get this,” Shawnese said as she pulled at Bella’s arm. The two of them stood eye to eye, but Bella easily had twenty pounds on the younger woman. “How can an open hand be stronger if people punch with closed fists?”

“There are different schools of thought with different martial arts forms, but we’re teaching self-defense. Look.” She held out her upturned hand. “If you strike out with the heel of your palm, you’ll risk less injury to your own hand.” She slowly pushed the hand out. “Even if you don’t know what you’re doing and you miss the bridge of a guy’s nose, look at the damage you can do. Fingers in the eyes. Pushing the guy’s head backward. Palm to their muzzle. You can grab their hair. Lots of things you can do with an open hand. Closed—” she made a fist “—and you cut off those opportunities.”

Shawnese tilted her head, looking at her own hands as she flexed her fingers open and closed.

“The main thing,” Bella emphasized, “is to get away. The best way to help yourself out of a situation is to walk away from it.”

“Dunno if that’s gonna be possible,” Shawnese muttered.

“We’re just giving you the basics. If you have questions, or you want to learn something specific, just ask.” Bella hoped the young woman would do exactly that.

By the end of class, Shawnese seemed much more receptive to Kyle’s instruction and to the prospect of more lessons.

“You did a great job,” Reta said. “I’m kind of shocked Shawnese opened up to you so fast.”

That was opening up? Reta must have read the look on Bella’s face, because she chuckled. “Seriously, when she first came to the center, she barely said a word to anyone. Just sat in the corner to stay warm and safe. She tries to hide it and act tough—it’s part of the armor. I think she’s said more to you today than to anyone else all week.”

After the students had gone, Bella went to Kyle. “That seemed to go really well. You were great.”

He smiled modestly, dimples flashing in the corners of his mouth. Bella was struck by how much it changed his face. A little buzz zipped through her. In that brief glimpse, she saw the triumphant Olympic gold medalist, the heartbreaker playboy and the carefree youth she’d seen in old training footage. “You, too. Your assisting really helped move things along. The students show promise,” he said. “Thanks for sticking by. I noticed you were spending some extra time with that one girl.”

“Her name’s Shawnese. Reta says she’s got some trust issues. I thought it’d be a good idea to stay close to her. In a class of fifteen, there’s always going to be one odd man out, and there’s nothing worse than being the last person picked.”

“Let’s make sure we diversify when we pair them up,” Kyle said. “It’ll be good to get them to mingle.”

“Good idea.” She was almost certain this was the first time they’d agreed on something. It made her feel good.

“I know it’s late,” Kyle said, glancing at the clock, “but if you’re free now, we could spend an hour on the mats.”

“Absolutely.” She nearly tripped on her own feet as she hurriedly stripped out of her Payette’s T-shirt so she could work in her rash guard. Thanks to the class she was already warmed up. She stretched and shook out all her muscles while Kyle pulled off his own T-shirt.

Holy—

Bella froze as she caught the rippling expanse of his back. She’d seen him in videos wearing a wrestling singlet, but shirtless with an extra seven years was an entirely different matter. She knew all the technical names for the groups of bunching muscles—trapezius, latissimus dorsi, rhomboid major—but all she could think of was the lumps and wrinkles they would create beneath a satin blanket.

He grabbed a sleeveless black V-neck workout top from a gym bag and pulled it over his head, but not before she got an eyeful of his chest. She couldn’t help but wonder what those pectorals would feel like.

“Okay, so you’ve probably got all the basics. I’ve seen your fights, and I think you have at least some techniques down.”

“Let’s not skip anything, Coach. Teach me the way you were taught.”

Something flashed across Kyle’s face. She wasn’t even sure she’d seen it, but she thought it might have been resentment. He set his feet apart. “Okay. Show me your square stance.”

Bella planted her feet shoulder-width apart, head up, knees slightly bent and elbows tucked at her sides. Kyle gave her a light shove to test her balance. Warmth snaked through her.

“Good. Now show me staggered.”

She shifted her right foot back and lowered herself farther. “That’s a little too low. You’re way off balance, see?” He pushed her side to side, and she stumbled as she tried to stabilize herself.

“Well, I’m not going to stay in this position, am I?” Of course, it wasn’t only his push that had tipped her off balance. “I thought the idea was to drive forward and attack. Like this.” She lunged at Kyle and crashed into his middle, wrapping her arms around his waist and dragging him down. He was solid and warm, exactly as she’d imagined. And though they’d never sparred, this felt comfortably familiar.

He fell to his butt as she climbed on top of his chest. She was easily fifty pounds lighter than he was but kept him effectively pinned. She’d only managed that twice with her brothers. Heady triumph filled her as he struggled.

“Get off me!” Kyle roared.

She leaped off. Had she hurt him? He scrambled to his feet and took four big steps away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t feel you tapping out—”

He gave her such a nasty look she snapped her mouth shut. “Don’t ever do that again,” he snarled. “We don’t have matches without refs, and we don’t attack people who aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Lesson’s over. Practice your stances. You don’t have the basics down at all.”

“Kyle—”

She watched him stalk off. She kicked at the air. Porra! She wasn’t going to get anything right around him, was she?

* * *

HADRIAN BLACKWELL WHIPPED his cell phone onto the ground, and the pieces of shattered plastic case scattered across the hardwood floor. He forked his fingers through his hair and grabbed fistfuls at his temples, ready to tear it out.

Soft footsteps alerted him he was no longer alone in his home office.

“Babe? Something wrong?”

He looked up and his heart skipped a beat. He would never get used to seeing her like this—Quinn Bourdain in a silky cream negligee, her red-gold hair tumbling around her shoulders, barefoot and free of makeup toddling around his house. The sight of her nibbling on her lower lip worriedly made him ashamed of his violent outburst.

“I just got a call from Wendell McAvoy.” He stooped to gather the pieces of the phone. “He’s out. Torn ACL.”