Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Noah
I was reading on the couch when Jackson came in.
He didn’t have any groups out at the camp this week, but he still went out there most days.
He said it was to do general maintenance, but I thought it probably had as much to do with walking the trails and getting out of this building as anything else.
I’d gone with him a couple times, but I’d slept in today.
He gave me a kiss and then set his coffee on the counter before looking at me like he was about to say something he’d been thinking about for a while but wasn’t sure what I would think about it.
“What?”
He crossed to the armchair across from the couch and sat down, which meant it was a conversation rather than a stop on the way somewhere else. “I want to take you down to the gym this afternoon.”
I lowered my book. “The gym.”
“Second floor. We’ve got a training space down there.” He turned his coffee mug slowly in his hands. “I want to work through some basic self-defense with you. The Gala is this weekend, and I know you won’t be able to learn much in a day, but I’ll feel better if you at least know a few moves.”
I looked at him. He looked back, patient, waiting for whatever my reaction was going to be, but the thing was, it wasn’t a bad idea.
It was a genuinely good idea. We didn’t know what was going to happen at the Gala, if anything, but Gator had said his gut told him Anton Corvane was planning something, and Hawk said they never ignored Gator’s gut.
I’d never had any self-defense training.
I’d thought about it after I got to Houston, but never actually did it, and it was probably time I did.
“Okay,” I said. “I trust you and the guys to keep me safe, but I think that’s a really good idea. Maybe after all this is over, you can teach me more than the basics. You know, just to be on the safe side.”
This was the first time either of us had made actual plans for what would happen after. We’d been living in this kind of limbo where we couldn’t make any decisions about the future until this was resolved, but I wanted there to be a future for us in the worst possible way.
I held my breath and waited to see what he said, but he just smiled at me like it was no big deal. Like the idea that there would be time for us to do things after was a forgone conclusion.
“I think that’s a great idea. Hawk and Tucker teach regular classes here in the training area, or we can do it out at the camp one-on-one.” He winked at me. “I like the sound of that best.”
“Me, too.” I closed my book. “So will it just be us today?”
“No, Bobby’s going to be there. I asked him to come in to join us. He helps me out at the camp with similar drills, so he knows the routine. I want someone to demonstrate the grabs so I can watch your technique.”
I considered that. “So your plan is to have Bobby grab me while you watch.”
“That’s the plan, yes.”
“And you’re comfortable with that.” I raised one eyebrow and waited for his answer.
He gave me a look that suggested the question was beneath both of us. “Bobby is a kid and completely professional.”
“He isn’t a kid, but I know he’s a professional. I’m just teasing you.”
“You’ve been spending way too much time with Julius. Now go get changed. We’re going in twenty minutes.”
I stood up and gave him my sauciest smile. “Yes, Daddy.”
He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Fucking Julius.”
I just laughed and went to change my clothes.
The Three Bears gym was on the second floor of the building and was a full training facility with a padded mat area taking up most of the floor, a weight section along the far wall, a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling in the corner, and enough natural light coming through the high windows to make it a place a person might actually want to spend time.
I’d gone a few times when I was here before, but I hadn’t bothered to come down here since I’d been back.
Bobby was already there, stretching out on the edge of the mat.
“Hey,” he said.
I gave him a little wave hello.
Jackson set down the bag he’d carried and looked at me.
He was in a plain gray t-shirt and dark training pants, and he looked, as he often did, like someone who’d been built specifically for the task at hand.
I was in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, because that was the closest thing to training clothes I’d brought with me from Houston.
“We’re going to start with the basics,” he said. “Stance, movement, how to create distance. Nothing complicated. The goal isn’t to make you a fighter. The goal is to give you enough that if someone grabs you, you have options.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Like I said, Bobby’s going to be the attacker, but first I want to go over the moves so you can see them.”
Jackson was a good teacher. Which didn’t surprise me since he did this all the time out at his camp.
I’d never seen him in action before, though, and it suited him.
He explained things once, clearly, and then showed them.
After that, he watched while I tried to replicate them and corrected what needed correcting without making me feel foolish for needing the correction.
The stance came first. Feet shoulder-width apart, weight slightly forward, hands up but not rigid. He walked around me slowly while I held it, making small adjustments… a hand on my hip to shift my weight, two fingers on my elbow to raise my guard.
“Relax your shoulders,” he said.
I relaxed my shoulders.
“More.”
I tried to relax them more. His hand came to the back of my neck briefly, a firm press that somehow released tension I hadn’t known I was holding, and my shoulders dropped another inch.
“There,” he said.
“We’re going to start with breaking a grab. You ready, Bobby?” He’d been sitting on a mat off to the side watching us, but he hopped up and joined us.
First, the two of them demonstrated the various ways a person might be seized on the wrist, upper arm, and around the body from behind. Then he had Bobby show me each counter move, talking through the mechanics while he did it. Lastly, he stood behind me while I ran through them myself.
The one from behind was the hardest, and Jackson said he wanted to show me that one himself instead of having Bobby do it.
“When someone grabs you from behind,” Jackson said, behind me now, his voice close and even, “your instinct is going to be to freeze or to pull forward. Don’t.
You go back into them, not away.” His arms came around me, and I was abruptly very aware of exactly how close we were.
“Drop your weight, drive your elbow back, turn into it. You’re not trying to hurt them; you’re trying to create enough disruption to get free.
We aren’t here to fight, we’re here to get away. Make sense?”
“It does.” I nodded.
“Good. There are other tactics, so even if we decide I’ll be doing your training later on, you should probably spend a little time with Tucker, as well. She’s a master at counter moves, so it wouldn’t hurt to learn her techniques, as well.”
“Right, makes sense,” I said.
“Okay, let’s try it. I’ll give you the grab, you run the counter move.”
His arms came around me properly this time, firmly, realistically, like someone was actually attacking me.
I went through the motion. Dropped my weight, drove my elbow, and turned.
He let me complete it, stepping back with the controlled ease of someone who’d just let a much smaller person demonstrate a technique on him without making it obvious that he’d allowed it.
“Good,” he said. “Again.”
We ran it four more times. By the third, I had stopped being aware of the warmth of him behind me and started actually thinking about the mechanics, which I suspected was the point. By the fifth, it felt like something I could remember under pressure.
“That one,” Jackson said, “is the one I want in your muscle memory before the Gala.”
Crowe stepped back, and Bobby stepped forward. “You want to run the other holds again?” he asked me.
“Sure,” I said.
Jackson let us work through them. Watching us the whole time and giving me pointers when he felt it was necessary.
We’d been at it for about an hour when Bobby checked his phone and made a face. “I’ve got to go. Wolfe has an assignment for me this afternoon.”
“Go,” Jackson said, then added, “Thanks for your help.”
Bobby rolled to his feet and grabbed his bag, giving me a nod on his way past. “You’re picking it up fast,” he said. “Seriously.”
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it.
The door swung shut behind him, and the gym went quiet.
“One more,” Jackson said.
“One more what?”
“The rear grab. I want you to run it cold, without thinking about it first.”
I set my feet.
He came up behind me, his arms came around me, I dropped my weight, drove my elbow, and turned. He caught my elbow mid-turn and didn’t let me complete it, which was new, and instead of stepping back, he stayed close, and I understood after a moment that the exercise was over.
“You’ve got it,” he said, quietly, close to my ear. “You’re going to be fine.”
I turned around inside the loose circle of his arms. We were back to the problem of the fitting room, where Jackson’s body was pressed up against mine in a totally inappropriate spot.
“Jackson,” I said.
“Noah,” he said.
“Bobby’s gone.”
“I noticed.”
“And we’re done with the self-defense portion of the morning.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “Are we?”
“I feel like we might be.”
He looked at me for a long moment with that steady, unhurried attention of his, and what it was saying right now was entirely clear.
“Shower’s upstairs,” he said.
“I know where the shower is.”
“I’m just saying,” he said, “that there’s one available.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Lead the way.”
He did.