Chapter 2
DESI
Of course I was placed in his group.
Placed in his group and too damn proud to ask that I be changed to a different instructor.
Isn’t that karma for you? To be put in the group with the man I probably insulted seven ways from Sunday? It’s not like I can fake interaction with him. It’s not like I can be a wallflower against the mascot mural and blend in until I disappear.
The man is going to have his hands on me. He’s going to be physical with me.
And hell if I didn’t make a bed I’m going to have to lie in.
Shit.
For some reason I don’t think sticking my head in the sand is going to get me out of this situation.
A blue mat on a gym floor isn’t exactly the horizontal action I had in my brief although extensive fantasy of him.
“So, as Bear said, I’m a SWAT team commander.
I like long walks off short piers, chasing parked cars, oh, and babies and puppies are my kryptonite.
” He chuckles with the rest of the women, who are shifting on their feet as he tries to put them at ease.
“But seriously, I’ve spent my career trying to save people from or trying to get people out of harm’s way.
In all this time, there’s one thing I’ve learned: it can happen to anyone.
There is no profile for who will be mugged.
No stereotype for who will be raped. No anything to pinpoint who will be next.
” He pauses and lets the weight of his words sink in before he claps his hands together loud enough to make us jump.
Shrieks of surprise turn to nervous laughter. The lady next to me startles, and her hand flies to her throat, an “Oh, dear” falling from her mouth. I reach over to pat her back comfortingly, all while my eyes stay right on Reznor as he walks from one end of the mat to the other.
“And that’s why I want to congratulate you on being here.
On taking that first step of being in control of you.
” As he speaks he meets the eyes of every woman in the line, and when he gets to where I am standing on the end, gives a subtle shake of his head, but his eyes give away nothing of the words I said to him earlier.
“Over the next few weeks, we’ll be learning several different aspects of self-defense.
You won’t learn everything overnight, and that’s okay.
We’ll take our time so that you’ll feel confident in knowing what to do in case you need to use it.
If at any point you’re unsure, please don’t hesitate to ask. Right, so let’s get started.”
He begins with some basic information—how to hold your fist when you punch, the most sensitive parts on a male body to hit, etcetera—and then asks us to remove our shoes so we can begin.
“Okay, I need a volunteer to help with the demonstration.”
Hands shoot up all around me. Smart women. Who wouldn’t want his undivided attention? I’d normally be elbowing through the women with both arms raised to make sure I’m seen and maybe give a crass one-liner to guarantee my selection.
But that was before I made an ass of myself with him. I refuse to lower my head and hide, but hell if I’m going to be his “body” to demonstrate with.
And just as the thought crosses my mind, Reznor, with his bright eyes and sarcasm-laced smile, steps directly into my field of vision.
“Thank you for volunteering,” he says, and I shake my head in protest.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll watch.”
Did I really say he probably failed his psych evaluation?
The smile that’s toying on his lips tells me yes. Yes, I did.
Crap.
“I don’t take no for an answer when it comes to making sure you’re prepared.” This time he puts on the brightest smile so everyone sees the charming man trying to get me to participate, while I see the gleam in his eye that says he can’t wait to challenge me and prove me wrong.
He reaches his hand out to me and rather than take it, out of principle, I look at it and then step past him onto the mat and face the ladies standing there with envious eyes.
Reznor moves toward me. “What’s your name?”
“Desi,” I say begrudgingly, wondering why I feel so hostile toward him when I was the ass in our conversation.
“Desi. Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I know more than anything he is seeing if I’ll acquiesce in this silent battle of wills we have going on.
And of course I do. I tell myself it’s only because people are watching, but I grab his hand, squeeze strongly, and shake, all the while trying to ignore the warmth of his skin and the size of his hands.
“Now, let’s imagine that Desi here is walking through a parking garage late one night,” he says as he walks from one side of the mat, passes behind me, and then to the other side. “She’s busy checking her text messages on her cell and not paying attention to her surroundings. And out of the blue—”
Suddenly his hand is over my mouth, and his other arm has grabbed my midsection and yanked me back against him. I yelp. Fuck.
No.
He’s too close.
I know where I am. I know who he is. But regardless, panic flickers through me. The kind that makes your mind blank and your heart lurch into your throat.
The kind I felt when I woke up to find the dark shadow standing at the foot of my bed a few weeks ago.
“Deep breath,” Reznor murmurs in my ear when he feels my body tense and hears my startled gasp. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
It’s stupid, but his simple words put me at ease, and I hate that I need to be given that feeling.
“Desi is now in a parking garage without a soul in sight and a man who is going to what? I don’t know what each of you has been through, why you’re here, so I’m not going to spell out potential scenarios.
But right now, she’s going to become a victim.
” My heart thunders in my throat as his arms tense around me. “Show me what you would do.”
For a woman who typically loves being the center of attention, I absolutely hate the feeling of it right now. Everyone’s eyes are on me, and all I can think is how the last thing I want is to do the wrong thing and show them how in fact I would be dead.
Stupid? Yes. The truth? Definitely.
“Desi?” he murmurs and for the life of me, I don’t know why I do it—why instead of stomping on his instep or throwing my elbow backward, or even trying to twist miraculously away from him so I can knee him in the nuts—I force my tongue out of my covered mouth and lick the palm of his hand.
I feel him startle, and he loosens his grip in surprise.
Just when I begin to wiggle out of his grasp, he’s on me again, but this time, I end up on my back on the mat with a thud.
He looms over me with a disbelieving look on his face while I catch the breath that has just whooshed out of me with his move.
Yep. He’s still handsome.
And I’m now flat on my ass looking up at him.
“You see,” Reznor says to our group as he offers me a hand to pull me up, “Desi tried to get cute. And the shock value might work in some instances. She licked my palm, and it sure as hell caught me off guard, but it wasn’t the safest action to take.
If I’m a sexual predator high on adrenaline, it might turn me on even further. ”
I take a little bow, owning the criticism because hell if hearing him say I might turn him on isn’t something that’s on repeat in my head. I’ll use any distraction I can get to take my mind off the fear just being put in that position evoked in me.
“You can curtsy all you want,” Reznor says with a sarcastic tone and a shake of his head, “but it’s not going to save your ass.”
My spine stiffens at his comment. “Loosen up, I was joking.” I roll my eyes for added humor but when I look back to him, there is absolutely no amusement in his expression.
“I’d love to loosen up”—he turns to face me—“but that would mean you wouldn’t be getting what you came here for.
To learn how to fight back and defend yourself.
The comedy club is that way if you want to be the funny girl and make jokes.
” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder as the two of us wage a visual war.
“Because roughly seven out of ten women will be assaulted in their lifetime…of the ten of you standing here, seven have already or at some point will be a victim… Now, I might not be a genius, but I put my money on the fact that they want to be taught what to do.” He pauses as my eyes burn into his. “Shall we continue?”
No one likes to feel stupid.
And of course that’s how I feel, but hell if I’ll give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard I want to pull that stick out of his ass when he’s right on the money.
“Then maybe you should tell me what to do.” I sound snotty when I speak no matter how hard I try. Because there’s being chastised, and then there’s being chastised by the man you were pseudo hitting on earlier. Now, no matter how hard you tell yourself it isn’t the case, you feel a little rejected.
He flashes me a brilliant smile that grates on my nerves. “Gladly.”
And for the next hour and odd minutes, I’m on my back. Up against a wall. Up against him. Any way you can imagine it, Reznor uses me as his dummy to demonstrate what to do, and what not to do.
All with his body against mine.
“That’s all for today’s class. Ladies, I hope you learned something today, but remember your number one goal is to escape to safety, not fight.
If your attacker is coming toward you, the three simplest moves you can use to defend yourself are the down slap to the forehead, the Dracula, and the throat strike. Stay safe and we’ll see you next time.”
A round of clapping starts, and all I do is sag in relief because I’m exhausted.
And pissed off.
I don’t clap. I don’t even look his way as I stalk off the mat and head toward the bleacher at the far end of the gym where my stuff is. Noise erupts as the other classes end and women begin chatting.
I need to get the hell out of here.
I’m tired. I’m sore. And…and I’m not sure how I feel, but I don’t like it.
“Desi.”
When he calls my name, I’m primed for a fight…especially with him.
“Go away,” I mutter as I keep my head down, knowing how anything I do can and will be used against me. Sunnyville might not be a Podunk town, but it has one whopper of a gossip mill, and I’m the last person who wants to take center stage in it.
I take my time gathering my keys and water but can feel his presence at my back.
“Thanks for helping today.”
I whip around to see him standing there, shirt off and balled in his hands, pants slung low on his hips, a towel scrubbing through his hair.
The typical look of a guy who knows he has a hot body and is so damn comfortable with it he doesn’t give a second thought that most people can’t do that and look sexy.
“Helping?” I grit out. “How about being your human punching bag for the past hour? The one you continually said was doing the wrong thing. How about that, huh?”
He chuckles. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have taught you nothing while I went and took my psych test again to see if I qualify for the Academy.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Same could be said about someone who judges others without giving them the benefit of the doubt,” he says and shrugs nonchalantly.
“Look. I was making conversation. I was…” I run a hand through my hair and sigh as I rein in my temper. “Never mind.”
Stop babbling, Des. That’s what got you into this predicament in the first place.
“You better hope you never need to defend yourself—”
“Screw you.”
“—because you’re spending so much time being mad at me that you’re not paying attention.”
“I don’t put myself in situations to…”
Reznor angles his head to the side and takes a step closer. “Ah, but you have though.” His voice is softer, sympathetic. I take a step back and shake my head. “What did he do to you, Desi?”
“Who said anyone did anything to me?” I shove my hands on my hips to match my defensive tone.
He rocks on his heels and stares at me with an intensity I want to shy away from but don’t dare. “You didn’t have to say a word. It’s written in your defiance…in your body language.”
“Maybe my body language is saying I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit.”
“Dodge and defend.” He chuckles, and it grates on my nerves. “I should have figured you’d be one of those.”
“One of those?”
“The person who can’t admit you’ve been caught off guard. That you were vulnerable and someone else took advantage of it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Types like you always quit,” he says, prompting me to shove my keys in my purse and try to walk past him. But he sidesteps to block my exit. “All talk and no guts.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again…screw you and your stereotypes.”
“I’ll be surprised if I see you again on Thursday.”
I glare at him before stomping away. My resolve that I wasn’t coming back is now shattered by my pure stubbornness to prove him wrong. Arrogant asshole.
The night air feels like heaven. It’s still hot and stifling but it doesn’t smell like sweaty gym, and it sure as hell doesn’t smell like Reznor—cool and clean and manly.
Standing in the entry of the high school, all I can do is shake my head and curse the man I’ve tried to abuse over the last hour.
He frustrated me. He tested me. I tried to fight back.
I lost.
Is that why I’m pissed? Because he proved to me there’s no way I could handle myself if I were attacked?
Or is it because he stood there, confronting and frustrating me, making me so angry I totally missed the opportunity to admire how freaking hot he is with his shirt off?
Because what I remember of him…damn.
Get a grip.
He’s nothing.
You’re fine and can handle yourself.
But when I start the car, there’s a niggling feeling deep down that I know all of those are lies.
All three of them.