Two
Norah stared fixedly at the fist swinging toward her face, even when the knuckles got so close she went cross-eyed. She wanted to close her eyes, but they refused to cooperate.
The fist stopped abruptly, close enough that Norah’s eyelashes brushed against the battered knuckles. The gym was completely silent until her belated indrawn breath broke the quiet. For the thousandth time, she mentally gave thanks that no one else was ever there during her sessions. It limited the potential embarrassment at least. Physical pain, Norah could handle. Mockery, not so much.
“If you’re not going to block, you should at least move your face.” The voice had a compelling raspy edge, and it took her a moment to actually register what he was saying, just long enough for her eyelashes to flick against his knuckles three more times.
When the meaning of his words finally registered, she pulled her head back and moved her focus from that huge, scarred fist. She hadn’t expected the almost hit to come so fast. It hadn’t given her time to think through each step of blocking his punch, so she hadn’t done anything—not even duck. That had always been her issue when her sister Felicity tried to teach her self-defense. If she wasn’t able to run through her mental what-to-do checklist, her brain froze until it was too late. That was probably part of the reason she’d watched her sisters come very close to dying multiple times recently.
Now she was on her eighth training session with Dash, and she was still freezing whenever a fist headed in her direction. The strength and agility training he put her through was tough but doable, but the part where she actually had to learn to fight… That wasn’t going so well.
Dash dropped his arm to his side and regarded her with his head cocked slightly to the right. Although he was frowning, that had been his default expression since she’d walked into his gym seventeen days ago, so she didn’t take it personally. “It’s better to move before the punch lands.”
When he paused, she figured he was waiting for her to say something. There really was no necessary response, however, since everything he’d just said made sense. Still, in the interest of moving on to the next step, she gave a nod and said, “Okay.”
His scowl deepened. “Don’t just agree. Do it next time.”
She studied him as she mentally debated how to respond. It was an interesting face to look at, with his almost-black irises and prominent cheekbones and the scars mottling the left side of his neck and jawline, but she couldn’t really enjoy it because the majority of her focus was on what to say next. Okay hadn’t gone over well, so that was out, but that was usually her go-to when she wanted someone to stop staring at her and continue.
“I will,” she tried.
To her satisfaction, that seemed to do the trick. Although his expression was still snarly, he took a step back and settled into the defensive position he’d just shown her—base solid and hands ready to protect his face. Despite his burly form, he looked light on his feet, and she knew from their training sessions that he could move surprisingly fast. One of his slashing black brows lifted in a soundless command. Twitching her tank top into place, she moved to mimic his stance.
She’d been working with Dash less than three weeks, but the position already felt natural. It just made physiological sense, and there was nothing Norah appreciated more than when things were logical. If only punches didn’t come so quickly, she was pretty sure she’d actually be able to remember how to counter them.
“Let’s try this in slow motion,” he said as if he’d read her mind. He started extending his arm, the muscles stretching out from their bunched positions. Even when he wasn’t flexing though, his arms were huge. As his fist gradually drew closer to her face, she ran through the steps in her head.
Shoulders up, tuck my chin, thrust palm, connect with the side of his wrist, shove his arm away, move my face in case I miss, and return hand to guard position.
“Good.” The compliment was a mere grunt, but it still warmed her insides. “Again.”
Over and over, slightly faster each time, he threw punches at her face. Gradually, her movements became automatic, and she didn’t have to think about each step. Her body just started doing what needed to be done.
“Okay,” he said, shifting his balance back.
Norah felt a line of sweat tickle her spine, and she wished she could take off another layer. If she took anything else off, however, she’d be down to her underwear. Just the thought of being that close to naked in front of the intimidatingly self-possessed Dash made her flush.
“Let’s work on breaking some holds.” His voice was even as he continued, either ignoring the fact that she’d turned bright red or not noticing that she suddenly resembled a stop sign. As warm as the gym was, he probably just thought she was overheating because of the physical effort rather than embarrassment.
He was waiting again, so she gave him a slight lift of her chin in response. That seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, because he shifted closer and waited for her to imitate his ready stance.
“If I grab you, what’s your first impulse?” He closed his fingers around her forearm, the rough rasp of his skin in direct opposition to the gentle, careful way he held her.
She blinked down at his hand, surprised that she wasn’t more upset. Normally, she wasn’t a big fan of strangers touching her. Her gaze moved to Dash, and she wondered why it was different with him.
“Your first impulse is to stand there?”
She felt her cheeks warm again, but he sounded surprised rather than mocking.
Norah tried to think how to explain that he didn’t trigger the usual alarm in her brain, but she couldn’t even understand it herself. If anyone except her sisters—well, apparently her sisters or Dash—touched her, she would’ve yanked away. “No,” she answered belatedly. “I’d pull back. If someone else grabbed my arm I mean.”
The revealing heat was returning to her cheeks, annoying her. Why am I being extra awkward today?
Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice anything off about her as he increased the pull on her arm. His fingers stayed gentle, even as he hauled her close. She wondered if she was supposed to fight back, but her brain was still preoccupied by her strange reaction to him, so she couldn’t organize her mind enough to figure out the best way to get free from his hold. As careful as his grip was, it was still firm and unyielding. Her forearm looked tiny and frail in contrast to his thick, rough-looking fingers.
He pulled her closer until their chests were almost touching. She kept her gaze on his face, checking for clues about what he wanted her to be doing in response. All she knew from looking at him was that his eyelashes were black and thick enough to be in a mascara ad, and he appeared to be…baffled.
“Why aren’t you pulling back?” he finally asked, yanking her attention away from her study of his eyelashes.
“Am I supposed to?” she asked.
“No.”
She blinked.
“Most people do, and we have to drill a different reaction into them. You’re the first person I’ve trained with such a…passive response.”
Norah frowned. “Passive?” She didn’t like to think of herself as passive. Even with her less physical role in her family’s bounty hunting business, her contribution felt active, like she was accomplishing something. Her method of chasing skips might be computer-based, but it was its own type of hunt. Though she had to admit that she hadn’t done very well in the field. Maybe if she hadn’t been so passive , she wouldn’t have ended up on the wrong end of a gun so often.
Her chin set as determination coursed through her. This was why she was here after all. She wanted to get better at the physical stuff so she could do her part to protect her sisters. She was tired of always being the one tied to the railroad tracks. She wanted to be the hero riding to the rescue for once. “What should I do instead?”
The corner of his mouth twitched in something so close to a smile that she blinked, startled. “Just what you did,” he said.
Shaking off her distraction, she looked up at him, confused. “I thought I was too passive.”
“Not in this case.” He stepped back without releasing her arm. “Like I said, most people pull back when someone grabs them. That’s what the assailant expects you to do. If you step in closer instead, it throws them off guard.”
Norah could understand why the attacker would be thrown, but there were still holes in his logic. “I haven’t gotten away though.”
“That’s the next step.” He pulled her in again, and she allowed herself to be tugged toward him, even as the word passive rang sourly in her brain. This close, she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “Now you’re in a position to get some hits in. You could knee me in the groin or stomp on my foot or do a palm heel strike to my nose. All my tender bits are at your mercy.”
The words tender bits coming from cranky Dash made her smile, but his meaning sharpened her grin. “Nothing passive about smashing your…tender bits.”
This time, he really did smile, and it looked just as fierce as hers felt. “Nope. As tiny and fragile as you seem, they won’t see it until it’s too late.”
Her surge of confidence faltered. “See what?”
He gave a light tap on her sternum. “Your ferocious inner badger.”
Her smile returned at full force, and she started asking him to show her how exactly to crush his bits when a thunderous knocking made her jump. His scowl snapped back into place before he released her arm and headed for the entrance.
She watched him flip the dead bolt and yank open the door as butterflies danced around her insides. When she’d walked into the gym for the first time a few weeks before, the most she’d been hoping for was to possibly learn to throw a punch. All she wanted was to never again be a liability in a fight, but Dash made it seem like even more was possible. With time and training, she might become a true badass. It was a powerful feeling.
“What?” Dash snarled, but even his cranky tone couldn’t erase her smile, especially since his ire wasn’t directed at her.
“Why’s the door locked?” another voice, almost as deep as Dash’s but not half as gravelly, asked. “This place is never closed. I thought you were dead or something.”
“Private session. Come back in an hour.” Dash swung the door shut, ignoring the other man’s protests, and clicked the dead bolt back into place.
As he joined her where she waited in the center of the gym, she felt a twist of anxiety, thinking that all the usual gym clients were locked out, waiting in the alley, getting more and more annoyed because she was having yet another private session with Dash. They met three times a week, since a sense of urgency pressed on Norah. Devon Leifsen wouldn’t sit around waiting for her to figure out how to fight. There was no time to waste. Not for the first time, she told him, “You don’t have to close the gym down just for me.”
He gave her a level look. “You don’t need a bunch of gym bros staring while you try to learn this stuff. He’s right—except for our sessions, this place is almost always open. He can come back later.”
The thought of having an audience as she struggled through the motions made her nauseated, and she gave him a grateful nod. “Thank you.”
With a grumbly noise, he waved his hand as if dismissing her thanks. “Let’s not waste this time then. Palm heel strikes, when you do them right, can be even more effective than a punch…”
As Dash continued, Norah focused on him, filing every word into the proper place in her brain. At the back of her mind, she was almost giddy with the knowledge that he’d closed down the entire gym for her because he knew she’d be uncomfortable with people watching. The happy, hopeful butterflies in her belly took flight again, but she batted them down, determined to concentrate.
After all, empty-gym time was precious and not to be wasted.