Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Nerves twisted in my stomach as I paced the edge of the park.
I scanned the parking lot for women brave enough to show up for the self-defense class we’d worked so hard to organize.
What if no one came? What if the club’s reputation scared them off?
I wiped my palms on my jeans, forcing myself to breathe.
Rhetta manned the registration table like a Southern debutante in leather.
“Look over there, sugar,” she said, gesturing to two blond sorority girls heading our way. “Told you we’d have takers.”
My heart leaped as more women trickled in. Three women in their forties with sunny energy signed the waivers. “This is our weekly ritual,” one of them announced with a grin. “Last week was goat yoga. This week? Biker boot camp. We try something new every Saturday.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
A nervous brunette in her early thirties hovered at the edge, arms crossed tight across her chest. Her eyes darted everywhere but at the men.
I knew that look. It was one worn by a woman who’d felt powerless at some point.
One who knew “not all men”—but had maybe judged wrong once or twice, leaving her trust in others tattered and torn.
I made a mental note to keep an eye on her and to step in if it seemed like anyone made her uncomfortable.
A boisterous pack of twenty-somethings rolled up just as we were about to begin. By the time Eva nudged me forward, there were eleven women in total lined up before us.
I grabbed Hatchet’s arm before I could lose my nerve. He blinked at me in surprise but didn’t pull away. He stepped forward as I sucked in a shaky breath.
“Good morning, ladies. I’m Kenna. A few weeks ago, I was mugged downtown. I felt helpless and scared. More recently, I was nearly carjacked in a parking lot. Both times, I was lucky enough to have my friend, Hatchet, come to the rescue.”
Hatchet gave a dramatic bow, earning a ripple of laughter.
I rolled my eyes. “But here’s the thing—I don’t want to rely on luck or anyone else to keep me safe. We need to be able to defend ourselves. We will not be victims. That’s why we put together this free class for anyone interested in learning about self-defense.”
I stepped aside as Rhetta moved forward to speak.
“Thanks, sugar. I’m Rhetta, and my husband is the president of the Mavericks Motorcycle Club.
I’d like to introduce you to the Mavericks who’ll be teaching this class today.
You’ve already met Hatchet. We’re also going to learn from Fuse, Merrick, Archer, and Coast.”
I watched the crowd as she spoke. Some women looked nervous, some curious, and one looked seconds away from ripping her clothes off and throwing herself at the guys to fulfill a “why choose” fantasy.
Eva shot me a sly glance, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. She’d insisted on picking only the Mavericks who were single to help teach this class, mainly to keep Reaper out of the crosshairs of flirty newcomers.
“We’re splitting into groups of two, with one group of three,” Rhetta continued. “Kenna, Eva, and I will float around to help demonstrate the moves.”
The sorority girls rushed for Hatchet, who turned up the charm immediately.
The forties crew clustered around Fuse. The loud twenty-somethings split between Archer and Coast, leaving the nervous brunette and one straggler with Merrick.
I drifted toward them, determined to help the woman who looked like she might bolt at any second feel more comfortable.
I brushed my hand gently against her arm, and she flinched. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. What’s your name?”
She managed a tight smile. “Callie.”
“You picked the best group, Callie,” I whispered, nodding toward Merrick. “He’s basically the beast from Beauty and the Beast. Looks like he’s a brute that could break you in half, but he’s actually the kind of guy who brings you flowers.”
Callie’s lips twitched, showing just a hint of a genuine smile.
Merrick stepped forward. “All right, ladies,” he rumbled. “First, we’re going to learn how to break someone’s grip if they grab your wrist. Kenna, come here.”
I stepped up, heart thumping, but trusting him completely. He wrapped his hand around my wrist—gentle, but firm enough to show the move. “If someone grabs you like this, don’t panic.” He demonstrated, guiding me in twisting my body to show the group how I could break free.
He looked down at me with a grin. “Good. Show them again. This time faster and with a bit more force.”
As Merrick walked our group through more techniques, I glanced over at Hatchet’s corner of the park.
The two sorority girls giggled as he wooed them.
A flare of annoyance sparked in my chest. This was supposed to be about empowerment, not a live-action dating app.
I caught Hatchet’s eye and shot him a glare sharp enough to slice through his charisma.
He blinked, straightened, and immediately dialed back the flirting, his tone suddenly all business.
Satisfied, I drifted over to Fuse’s group, where the trio of forty-something women peppered him with questions. Fuse stood tall, tattooed arms folded. The man was the picture of confidence and command. He surveyed his group like he was about to lead them into battle, not a self-defense drill.
“Kenna, help me out,” he ordered.
I stepped forward, earning a round of applause from the women.
“It’s a situation that nearly every woman has been in. It’s dark, and you’re alone, and someone is coming up behind you. Are you prepared if they put their hands on you?”
Fuse adjusted my position with a businesslike touch.
“Don’t second-guess. Don’t hesitate. As soon as they make their move, you make yours.
An elbow strike will do in this situation.
It’s simple, effective, and you don’t need to be a bodybuilder to make it hurt.
Kenna’s small, but she has sharp elbows.
Kenna, I want you to hit as hard as you can as soon as I touch your side. ”
I felt the brush of Fuse’s hand across my side before I moved exactly as he’d shown, hammering my elbow back into his ribs. Fuse grunted and staggered, making the group laugh. “See? She’s fierce. That’s what I want from all of you. Never hesitate. Never apologize.”
The women echoed his energy as they practiced the strike. Fuse moved among them, correcting stances and offering encouragement.
“You’re stronger than you think,” he told one woman. “Trust yourself.”
He caught my eye and winked.
“Confidence is half the battle,” Fuse continued. “The other half is making sure your attacker regrets ever picking you. I want you to leave me with bruises. Make sure I remember you tonight with every breath.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Fuse made sure everyone in his group felt powerful—and maybe even a little dangerous.
I made my way over to Archer’s group, where the energy felt instantly lighter. Where Fuse taught like a commander of armies, Archer acted like a big brother.
“Perfect! That’s exactly it,” Archer said as a petite woman with a pixie cut nailed a move.
I snapped a few photos on my phone, framing the shot as Archer gently corrected another woman’s posture, his hand hovering just above her shoulder to guide her without ever making her uncomfortable. He caught me taking pictures and flashed a wide grin, then turned to the group.
I caught a candid shot of the group mid-laugh, Archer in the center, arms outstretched. It was perfect for the Mavericks’ social feed—community, strength, and a little bit of joy in the middle of all the seriousness.
I grinned, feeling the warm, encouraging energy ripple out from Archer’s group.
I wandered over to Coast, where things were quieter compared to the others. He listened intently as one of the women shared a story about an experience she’d had walking home from the bar one night.
“That sounds terrifying,” he said, voice carrying a genuine weight. “My daughter’s nineteen now, and the stories she’s told me … same shit. I shouldn’t have to ask her to text me when she gets home safe, but I do every time because I’ve seen what some men are capable of.”
He demonstrated a simple escape move, letting the women try it on him as I captured snapshots with my phone.
When one woman struggled to break his grip, Coast never looked frustrated. “Let’s make it smaller. It’s less about strength, more about leverage. My daughter’s barely a hundred pounds, and she can use this move to take me down.”
On her second try, the woman slipped free and grinned wide. “Hell yes, that’s it. Any fight at all is more than most guys expect.”
I snapped another quick photo, catching the way Coast offered a reassuring fist bump after each woman attempted the move.
As I watched each group, a surprising sense of calm settled over me. The coiled tension in my chest started to loosen.
After two hours, sweat and laughter hung in the air as Rhetta clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right, ladies! Thank you for coming out today. We’ll be back next month. Same time, same place. Bring your friends.”
A chorus of thank-yous rippled through the group as women gathered their things.
Some lingered, chatting with the Mavericks, their faces flushed with excitement and pride.
One of the forties crew gave Fuse a bear hug, and Archer was surrounded by his group, exchanging high-fives.
Then, of course, there was Hatchet. One of the sorority girls sidled up to him, slipped a piece of paper into his hand, and whispered something that made him grin.
I rolled my eyes. Eva caught my expression and nudged me with her elbow, smirking.
“That’s just Hatchet for you,” she whispered. “He’s a magnet.”
I shook my head. “Next time, we’ll pair him with the cougars. Maybe we’ll invite a senior citizens’ home to participate, and I’ll have him work with some old biddies.”
Eva cocked a brow. “Jealous?”