Chapter 4
Cameron
I wake up at o’dark early on Saturday morning after a rough night’s sleep. Hell. I barely slept at all because I couldn’t stop thinking about Lacey.
Her soft skin wherever I touched her, the way her workout bra accentuated her full breasts when she executed the moves I taught her. The grit and determination in her blue eyes whenever she tried to take me down.
Hell, I wanted her to take me down, then go down on me and then I wanted her to ride my cock until we came together.
But I didn’t go for it.
Because Lacey’s a nice woman who doesn’t need a guy in her life who’s not in it for the long haul.
I get a text from my sexy distraction AKA Lacey as I chug my third cup of coffee. She’s heading to the training facility now. Shit. She’s up bright and early. I wonder if she had as tough a night as me.
I rinse my cup and pop it into the dishwasher, then grab a water with electrolytes to boost my energy.
The air is crisp, smells like spring green leaves as I walk to the gym.
Stepping inside, I see Beckett pumping iron beside Lacey, where they’re doing bicep curls in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall.
Beckett catches my eyes in the mirror. “I heard back from our guys in Virginia,” he says without preamble. “They hacked Barringtons’ security camera footage. They’re stripped bare.”
“Adrian was targeted,” Lacey adds grimly.
“Fuck. That’s not good.” The news confirms my suspicions but doesn’t answer why they’d done it. “You check in with the Atlanta PD?”
“Affirmative.” Becket continues doing his reps. “They found nothing on his body or in the changing room.”
“What about the other rooms?” I ask. “Fingerprints?”
“Wiped clean.”
“I’m the only one who can ID the murderer. And I haven’t been much help.”
Lacey shakes her head, and I inhale the faint scent of coconut, mild and sweet and tempting as fuck. I shake off the instant attraction, telling myself we made the right call last night. She’s a no-fly zone for me.
I meet her gaze, worry flitting through her gaze as she lowers her dumbbells. “You probably remember more than you think. A sketch artist could help.”
She lifts the weights, her muscles flexing visibly in her arms and shoulders as she does another curl. “I hope you’re right.”
I turn to Beckett. “Any chance we can use one of our people to pull together a sketch?”
“Great idea,” he says. “I’ll contact my commander in Virginia and ask for someone to work on that with Lacey.”
“Good,” I say, catching Lacey’s gaze once more in the mirror. “I’ll keep up the self-defense lessons while we wait for more intel.”
Beckett wraps up his session, then leaves, after telling me he’ll text me after he gets the heads up from headquarters in Virginia.
Now I’m alone again with Lacey.
“I guess we should continue our self-defense lessons,’ she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I cross my arms. “You sure you’re up for it?”
She racks her weights and stretches, her movements liquid and deliberate, though there’s a hint of stiffness. “I’m fine,” she says with a shrug. “If anything, I could use the distraction. Besides, I need to be ready for when I’m back in Atlanta and alone again, right?”
That determination is in her voice and stance again. It’s the same as yesterday. And tells me she’s not someone who backs down, even when the odds are stacked against her. Hell, I admire that about her. It’s also the reason I need to keep my damn distance.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s pick up where we left off. Today, we’ll focus on breaking holds. More real-life situations.” Though I’m preparing her to protect herself, what I want to do is be with her to make sure no one gets within an inch of her sweet, hot body.
Her lips twitch, and I can’t tell if it’s amusement or nerves. “Real-life situations? Like someone grabbing me in a parking lot?”
I nod, then hold up my hand. “Exactly. First thing you need to remember is to stay calm. Panicking only makes you an easier target.”
She raises her fists, mimicking the stance I taught her yesterday. Her form is solid, though I can’t help noting how her breathing picks up as I step closer.
“Stay calm,” she repeats under her breath. “Easier said than done.”
“That’s why we practice,” I say, circling her slowly. “When you’ve drilled it enough, your body will react on instinct.”
I demonstrate the first move, grabbing her wrist lightly and showing her how to twist and break free. She follows along, her smaller hand slipping out of my grip with a sharp tug. The heat of her touch lingers longer than it should. And I clear my throat, forcing my focus back on the lesson.
“Good. Now let’s try it full speed,” I say, reaching for her again.
This time she reacts faster, breaking my hold and spinning away before planting her palm flat against my chest. The move catches me off guard—not because it’s wrong, but because the contact sends a jolt straight through me, slams into my groin with intense, electrifying heat.
“Nice,” I say, keeping my tone steady even as the blood thundering in my ears makes it hard to concentrate on the lessons instead of the woman making me insane with desire. “But don’t stop there. Follow up. Aim for vulnerable spots—eyes, throat, knees.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “You want me to hit you?”
“That’s the point. If I can’t stop you, no one else will.”
She squares her shoulders. “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I did take some karate classes when I was in high school. Not that I wanted to, but I aced the kicking parts because of my dance classes.”
The next few rounds, she improves. Her movements grow sharper, more decisive, and I watch not just for her technique but for the fire in her expression. The worry I saw earlier is 100 percent erased.
She’s relentless, and damn if that doesn’t make her even more attractive.
Finally, I grab her from behind, my arms lightly pinning hers. “This is where most people freeze,” I murmur near her delectable ear. “But not you. Remember what I said—leverage and timing.”
Her breath hitches, and for a second, I feel her stiffen. Then she moves, using the moves I just taught her to stomp my foot and elbow me in the ribs. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but it’s effective enough that I release her and step back, holding up my hands in mock surrender.
“See? Told you you’d get it.”
She grins, breathless but triumphant, and brushes a loose strand of hair out of her face. “I had a good teacher.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I say, my voice dipping lower. “You’re tougher than you think.”
For a moment, we just stand there, the space between us charged with electricity, heat. Something more. I want to reach out, to pull her close and see if her lips taste as sweet as I’ve imagined.
But I don’t.
“Take five,” I say, reaching for my water bottle, then taking a swig to cool the heat firing low in my belly. “We’ll run through the next set of moves after you catch your breath.”
Her gaze lingers on mine before she grabs her bottle. “Thanks.”
I nod, turning away. I want to cross the invisible line between us, but I can’t afford to lose focus.