Chapter 32
Madison
Welcome to the Hitmen of Ulysses.
It’s been a couple of days, and I think I’m starting to get into the rhythm of the house—this group is sort of like a family, but they lack some of the togetherness habits I’m used to seeing.
They don’t have meals together every day or do puzzles in front of Mexican soaps.
They have an easy camaraderie, but they’re not in each other’s business.
It’s more like a group of independent adult couples who have their own interests and things to do. Which, frankly, is kind of awesome.
I keep checking on Wesley, but he keeps saying he doesn’t need my help, and he acts sort of weird whenever I come into the office to hang out.
When I’m sitting on the couch with Some Bills on my lap, he’ll answer my questions with short answers, but eventually I start feeling like I’m bothering him, so I leave.
He did say he closes off when he’s processing, but I’m starting to get kind of antsy.
And it’s not just because we haven’t acted out my fantasy of being bent over that desk…
I want to help him. But I also want him to want my help.
I’m a little worried this is more of that I just want to protect you bullshit. He said he’d let me know when he needed me. I guess I just have to take him at his word.
Eleanor is my unofficial house sponsor—mostly because she’s so friendly, but also because I always know exactly where to find her when I have a question, like where the extra toilet paper is, or which button on the Italian espresso machine makes the coffee come out.
She’s always in the kitchen, making something that smells too delicious to pass up.
Mac seems to have endless energy as he drifts through the house; when he’s not working out or running the perimeter, he’s pestering Eleanor or they’re sneaking upstairs to bone.
And they’re not sneaky. Once, they started before they got all the way to the attic, and their love echoed through the house.
Made me so horny I took Wesley’s showerhead for a spin.
I haven’t run into Nicole much, and I wonder if it’s because she’s introverted or if it’s personal.
I see her walking George outside, training him with endless patience, and sometimes I see her curled up in the library in one of those massive, cushy chairs.
I tried to strike up a conversation with her once—trying to get to know her, like Wesley requested—but she gave monosyllabic answers and then made some excuse about it being time to check on Dimitri’s wound.
I mean, I assume it was an excuse. Maybe it was a euphemism, and they’re way more discreet when they bone.
When he’s not with her, Dimitri spends almost all day in the gym. I’ve gotten so used to the sight of him going up and down those stairs, I didn’t realize he had stopped at the landing at the top of the stairs this morning as I was heading into the office for a visit with my man.
“Madison. Come,” he said. The words were barked at me, and I nearly looked around to figure out who he was talking to, to see if he confused me with Small Dog.
“Everyone who lives here must train,” he explained.
And since Dimitri’s “explanation” was nowhere near enough, Wesley helped fill in the blanks.
Everyone in the house takes self-defense lessons from Dimitri—even if you don’t want to.
Even if you don’t need self-defense lessons.
Even though I’m a world-class hacker “helping” process gigabytes of data from SmarTech.
None of that gets me out of gym class, apparently.
So 45 minutes later, I’m red-faced, heaving breaths, already looking disgusting as I climb off the treadmill, while Eleanor and Nicole are at most a little winded.
I didn’t come prepared for a workout, so I’m double-bra’d, in borrowed bike shorts from Eleanor that go past my knees, and wearing my Converses that made Dimitri’s lip curl in disapproval.
“Now that we have warmed up, we can begin,” Dimitri booms.
I don’t feel warmed up. I feel like I’m going to die. Dios, I’m out of shape.
We shuffle after him towards the corner of the room like ducklings. The floor is lined with “sparring mats” over here, which is frankly terrifying. They look… well-used.
“Because Madison is new to this, we will return to the basics of self-defense.”
“I know the basics of self-defense,” I cut in. If he’d let me explain myself earlier, we could’ve avoided wasting time. “Don’t backtrack on my account; I’m sure I can keep up.”
Nicole makes a noise of disbelief, and Eleanor elbows her arm with a meaningful look. My stomach twists at the unspoken exchange that makes me feel like such an outsider.
Nicole turns to me. “We’ve been training with him for months. And no offense, but you look like they have to measure you before they let you go on the Ferris wheel.”
I almost laugh. Now, I’ve heard a lot of short jokes, and usually they annoy me, but that one was pretty good.
Not overtly offensive or derogatory. I rock back on my heels, considering her—maybe I was wrong about her.
Maybe she does have a sense of humor; it’s just frozen underneath that cold demeanor.
All right, Ice Queen. Imma melt you yet. Watch me.
Dimitri nods. “Nicole is right. You are very small, Madison. Often, the men we must face are large and well trained. Not all techniques will work, so we study a wide range to combine the most effective.”
Small? I mean, I feel small around these people, but I’m short and wide, and usually the world doesn’t let me forget the second part.
“By that logic, pretty much everyone is bigger than me,” I offer with a shrug.
“If I say I’m not a beginner, don’t you think that means I know how to accommodate a taller opponent? ”
Dimitri crosses his arms as Eleanor and Nicole exchange a look, and, once again, I’m under the microscope, very much an outsider in a group that isn’t actively trying to make me feel that way.
But it creeps in every once in a while like this—a shared look that implies history and has a meaning that I’m not in on.
I square my shoulders. I was expecting to have to prove myself, but I was kind of hoping I could do it by showing everyone a few quality of life tricks on their computers, like browser add-ons for internet shopping or widgets that create schedules and digital calendars.
Dimitri seems like the kind of guy who likes schedules and lists.
Guess I’m going to have to do it this way.
“Fight me,” I challenge.
Dimitri cracks a smile. Well, not a smile—more of a half-step above a grimace. “That will not end well for you.”
“I might surprise you,” I argue.
“It’s hard for him to hold back,” Nicole intervenes, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to protect me or if it’s a humble-brag about her man’s skills. I’ll be generous and assume a little of both.
I glance at her, then go back to sizing up the big guy. “He doesn’t have to.”
He drops his arms from their crossed position, shaking his head, and I know what he’s going to say before he does.
So I don’t let him. I close the distance, catching him off guard, and bring my elbow out around my body with as much force as I can.
I’m not trying to hurt him too badly, so I clip him in the stomach instead of the groin.
He makes an oof and there’s a surprised gasp behind me.
“If I could reach and put force behind it, I’d have thrust the heel of my hand into his nose. Instead, my strike zone is solar plexus, groin, knee, instep,” I explain to the peanut gallery, pointing to each area as I say them.
His brows go up an instant before he lunges for me, darting to the side. I dance away, staying on the balls of my feet, never giving him my back. That’s the biggest mistake someone my size can make—the only reason that assassin in the alley got the drop on me was because he snuck up from behind.
There’s a spark in his eyes as he realizes what I’m doing. Another almost-smile. “Yes, good, Madison. You see how she keeps me in front of her? If I am able to grab her from behind, that is the end of the lights for her.”
“Endgame,” Eleanor corrects at the same time Nicole says, “Lights out.”
“That is what I said,” he dismisses.
Lightning quick—quicker than anyone his size has any right to be—he snakes out and grabs my wrist. I have a flare of panic, but my training kicks in.
I throw my elbow again, hitting him in the solar plexus this time, hard enough to make him double over.
He reaches for me as he gasps for air, but now I can get both arms around his neck since he’s so much closer to my level.
I jerk his head back, twisting, pulling with all my might so he follows the spin.
Once he’s off balance, I release and step back as he falls hard on his back.
Someone claps—Eleanor, I’m guessing—and I almost laugh. I lean over and brace myself on my knees to catch my breath as Dimitri rolls into a sitting position.
“Good,” he puffs, clearly stunned to have had the breath knocked out of him. “Then what would you—”
I mime kicking him in the groin, stopping just short of making contact, but close enough that he flinches and Nicole makes a nervous noise of protest. I toss her a look, frowning. “I wasn’t really going to kick him in the balls, Nicole,” I say.
She has the grace to look sheepish. “Of course not.”
Dimitri waves off my offer to help him up, getting to his feet gracefully. “Where did you train? You have combined the moves from judo and taekwondo and boxing—”
“I have friends in low places,” I say evasively. “There… may be an underground MMA somewhere in Ulysses, and I might know the guys in charge.”
“You know of an underground fighting ring?”
I purse my lips. “I can neither confirm nor deny its existence.”
“Hmm,” Dimitri muses, staring at me. “You will bring me.”