Victim or Villain (Gwen Kane #1)

Chapter 1

GWEN

Girls are just as strong as boys.

That’s what we’d all heard growing up.

And it was a load of bullshit.

Most men didn’t have half my emotional or mental endurance. But physically? I’d have to do three times the lifting to get half the strength a male opponent had.

Maybe if someone would’ve told me that, I wouldn’t have wound up in this position. One I knew well.

Sweaty back suctioned to the mat beneath me, he pinned my wrists up at my sides.

The fluorescent lights hanging from the drop ceiling pulsed around his face, adding a sickly shadow to his strong jaw and creamy cheeks.

His expression was blank, minus the periodic eye rolls each time I attempted, and failed, to free my arms from his grasp.

He kneeled between my legs. Mine? Spread open around his chest, feet flailing against his unmoving hips. No matter how hard I tried to yank free, that was all I could manage. Flailing my feet around. Only for him to body block my kicks and wedge me further beneath him.

But, as a woman, I was far from Axel’s type. It’s not like my hands were trembling and my heart was pounding. I was just gritting my teeth at the reminder that, yet again, I stood next to no chance in hand-to-hand combat with a man.

“Fight smarter, not harder, Gwen,” Axel said.

Obviously, because if I fought any harder, I was gonna blow some blood vessels.

Exasperated, I released all my tense limbs and grunted my annoyance. “I thought I was supposed to use my legs.”

“You are. To kick me in the face once I’m vulnerable.” His tone came out just as pointed as my own. “So get me vulnerable.”

“If I could remember how, I would, asshole.”

He narrowed his eyes.

I narrowed mine.

“Work in reverse,” Axel said. “Do the opposite of what you think you should do.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe if you paid attention, you’d know.”

I paid plenty of attention. The steps were clear. Once his weight was off me, I had to create distance however possible. Kicking, slapping, punching—it didn’t matter. Create distance and hit hard to disable him long enough to get away.

But I couldn’t remember how to create that distance.

It happened every time I was in this position. That was why, even after taking this course half a dozen times, I hadn’t managed to pass it.

“Maybe if I had a gun,” I said, “I would be just fine right now.”

“Too bad you don’t.”

I grunted and went back to kicking my feet like an angry toddler.

Axel rolled his eyes. “Just tap out.”

I didn’t want to tap out. I wanted to get this over with.

“What’s going on over there?” Rhiannon’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “You giving her grief again, Axel?”

I was still kicking, but I couldn’t manage to get my feet to the front of his torso. Each time I tried, he swayed his hips one way or the other.

“She’s the one who doesn’t listen,” Axel said.

Rhiannon came into view on my right. The neon pink sports bra popped against her deep brown skin. All her box braids were wound in place at the back of her head. “Well, did you remind her what the next step is?”

“No,” he and I said in unison.

I said, “If I don’t figure this out on my own, I gotta do this class all over again.”

Passing a self-defense course was a requirement to stay at the ranch. Why? Because, in Rhiannon’s words, We’re not just here to heal our wounds. We’re here to learn how to keep from getting any more.

Which I appreciated. Most domestic violence shelters just gave women a place to go while they figured things out themselves. Rhiannon’s Ranch was different. It revolved around breaking the cycles that brought us here in the first place.

But I was tired of this damn self-defense course. I must have known something about self-defense, or I would’ve died the day I’d left my husband.

Rhiannon frowned down at me. “But you passed everything else?”

“I wouldn’t say with flying colors,” Axel said, “but yeah. This is her last hold.”

“I’ll make you a deal then.” Rhiannon perched her hands on her hips. “If I show you how to get out of this, then next time, it’s the only hold you’ve gotta complete. Sound fair?”

“Very.” I wiggled my feet some more. “What am I forgetting?”

“Your hips.” She pointed to them. “Lift them upward into his groin, and you’ll have leverage with your feet.”

Damn it. The hips.

I rammed them forward, fast and hard. Axel grunted. Quickly, I slid my arms upward. He released my wrists. The jarring motion gave me enough time to shove a foot into his hip. I slid backward atop the mat. With enough distance between us, I kicked my feet like windmill blades.

He raised his arms at his sides.

Rhiannon laughed and extended a hand.

I took it, using her support to steady me on my feet. The gym door slammed behind one of the other women, leaving just the three of us. The air had cooled without everyone’s body heat filling the space. My words echoed off the high ceilings as if through speakers at a concert. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Smiling, Rhiannon gave my shoulder a squeeze. “That was all you.”

The lack of a completion certificate proved otherwise. “So, next class, I just have to do that hold, and I’m done?”

“Then you’re done.”

“I can’t wait.” I grabbed my water bottle off the floor and spun off the lid. “When is it?”

“It’s tough to say with the holidays coming up, but probably early next year.”

“Ugh.”

“You’ll be in here for five minutes, and then you can go on your merry way.” She glanced at her watch. “Which reminds me. Sebastian’s here working on one of my horse’s hooves. He said he’d be finishing up right around now though, if you want to meet him at your cabin to get Honey her shot.”

To my cabin, I went.

As annoyed as I’d been that I failed my self-defense class, I couldn’t stay that way for long.

Not once I was in my car, driving up the snow-dusted hill to my rent-free abode at the edge of the gravel road.

From the gym, it took fifteen minutes of driving past white doused conifer trees and cabins to make it to mine.

My little lemon didn’t love the fluffy white that fell from the clouds, forming a blanket on the gravel, but I couldn’t complain about this view.

So long as I was careful to pump my brakes, I always made it home in one piece.

A green pickup truck was parked half in the snow-covered grass and half in my one-car driveway. The guy sitting in the driver’s seat was one of the few men with unrestricted access to the ranch.

I pulled in beside him, offering a smile and wave as I shifted the car into park. Did I get a smile and wave in response? No. Just a curt nod as Sebastian stepped from the driver’s seat.

With my purse over my shoulder, I joined him in the driveway. “Sorry I’m late. Rhiannon had me down at the gym. Still taking that damn self-defense course.”

“I only pulled in a minute before you.” I didn’t get a good look at him as he dug around on the floorboards. “Did you pass yet?”

A huff escaped me, forming a cloud against the cold air in front of me. “Nope.”

“You’ll get it.”

Sebastian came around from the front. In one hand, he held his leather bag full of medical supplies. He carried that thing everywhere he went, always prepared to tend to an animal in need. A canvas dangled from the other. The image faced him, but a few smears of color lined the frame.

“How’s Honey been?” he asked.

“Still no side effects, still no limping. No one would know she was a senior dog unless I told them.” Crossing my arms, I nodded at the canvas. “What’s that?”

“Uh.” Sebastian trailed his tongue along his teeth, cheeks bright red beneath a bushy brown beard. I couldn’t tell if it was the cold wind slapping against his face or just his typical embarrassment at any mention of his work. “I was a little inebriated over the weekend.”

“Lucky you.” I gave a half smile and cocked my head to the side. “And you want me to admire your wonky, drug-induced creation?”

“No.” His breath smoked before his face. “I mean, yeah, it’s a little weird, but not the weirdest thing I’ve made.”

“Judging by that look you’re giving me, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a lizard giving a lap dance.”

Which wouldn’t be at all out of Sebastian’s artistic style. He had an affinity for animals doing something odd and humanlike. The first time I went to his veterinarian office with Honey, I chuckled at the cigarette-smoking frog and the horse wearing a sombrero proudly displayed in his waiting room.

“No, it’s just—I don’t know. I guess I had Honey on my mind.”

An awkward laugh escaped him as he spun the canvas around.

I had to join in on the laughter. Stretched out on the cloth canvas was a perfect rendition of my corgi, dressed as a barista, serving coffee behind a checkout counter.

While the backdrop looked a bit cartoonish, the painting of the dog could’ve been a photographic print.

“I was just playing around,” he said, “and this is what came out. I didn’t even realize until the next day how much it looked like Honey. She’s your baby and everything, so I figured, if you want it, it’s yours.”

Laughing, I took the painting in my hands and marveled at it a moment longer. He wasn’t wrong—it truly was a perfect rendition. Everything from the big pointy ears half the size of her head to the white stripe descending her little snout.

I told him, “I love it. How much do you want for it?”

The redness in his cheeks receded. A smile I usually knew as crooked reached all the way to his hazel eyes. He waved me off and shook his head. “Nothing. I was just a little tipsy, having some fun, and then I thought, ‘Gwen would like this.’ So. Here we are.”

“I’ve got to give you something.” Gazing at it, I slid my finger down the puppy’s cheeks, admiring each intricate brushstroke. “What is this—oil paint?” I looked back up at him. “That shit ain’t cheap. At least let me pay for the materials.”