Chapter 15
Knox
I rose before dawn and made my rounds. The perimeter was secure. No signs of anyone on or around the property. Just the familiar night sounds of the island and the quiet humming of the house around me.
Security check complete, I lay on Sloane’s couch, staring at the ceiling while my mind catalogued every possible entry point to this house, every vulnerability, every way someone could get to her.
The security system Archer and Colton planned would help.
But technology could fail. Systems could be bypassed.
There was always a blind spot. A chink in the armor.
If someone made it past the defenses, Sloane needed to be able to defend herself. She was already tough, a fighter without training. She’d be a major problem for potential attackers if she had a few basic skills and a little practical experience.
I sat up, an idea taking form. Moonlight streaming through the windows overlooking the sound. The home creaked and settled.
And the soft pad of footsteps filtered down from upstairs.
I tensed, then recognized Sloane’s gait. A moment later, she appeared wearing sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders. She stopped when she saw me sitting up.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked quietly.
“Keeping an eye on things.”
She crossed to the kitchen. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that moment. I feel his hands on me. Then the panic builds.” She opened the refrigerator, the light casting her in a soft glow. “Want some water?”
“Yeah.”
She brought two bottles and settled into the armchair across from the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. I tried not to notice the way the moonlight caught in her hair or how her T-shirt had slipped off one shoulder.
I failed.
“I have an idea that might give you some added comfort,” I said.
Her brow furrowed. “Yeah?”
I set my water aside and leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. “I want to teach you some self-defense basics. Nothing complicated. Just enough so you feel more in control.”
Sloane’s expression shuttered. “The goal is supposed to be that I won’t need to fight off another attacker.”
“It is.” I kept my voice level, understanding. “That’s true, and you fought this guy off at the party. That was brave, and you’re obviously not helpless. But wouldn’t it feel better to have some tools? Some muscle memory responses you can rely on if you need them?”
“You’re saying that like you think it will happen again.”
I shook my head. “I’m troubleshooting. We know the guy who grabbed you is still out there.
And until we find him, I’d feel better if we had a plan in place.
I want you prepared.” I held her gaze. “I already know you’re willing to do what it takes to help find this guy.
You plan to put yourself out there. There’s always a chance that having these skills will make the difference you need.
If you never have cause to use them, all the better. ”
She was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. When would you show me?”
I looked around the fancy living room. It was large enough to move comfortably, not that we needed a lot of space. It would be easy to move furniture. “How about now?”
“Now? Knox, it’s four in the morning.”
“I’m not sleeping, and clearly neither are you.” I stood.
Sloane’s eyes widened slightly as she watched me stretch onto my feet.
“Come on. Fifteen minutes. If you change your mind at any time, we stop.”
Sloane studied me carefully, then unfolded herself from the chair. “Fine. But I apologize in advance if I hurt you.”
I grinned. “Noted.”
I pushed the couch back. Moved the coffee table against the wall and the armchair into the corner. Creating an open space on the hardwood floor.
“Wow, so you’re really doing this,” Sloane said, watching me work.
“I’m really doing this.” I pressed the couch back another foot. “Grab some throw pillows. We’ll use them to mark boundaries.”
She collected pillows from the couch and arranged them in a rough square while I finished clearing space. When I turned back, she stood in the center of the makeshift training area, arms crossed, looking skeptical and vulnerable and beautiful in equal measure.
Focus, Hawthorne.
“All right.” I stepped into the space across from her. “First rule. You don’t fight fair. There’s no honor in self-defense. You do whatever it takes to get away.”
“Whatever it takes,” she repeated.
“Eyes, throat, groin. Those are your primary targets. He’s larger and stronger, so you need to disable him fast and run.
” I moved closer, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.
“Second rule. You fight through the fear. Your body’s going to flood with adrenaline.
Your hands will shake. That’s normal. But you push through it and you keep fighting. ”
Sloane’s jaw tightened. “Okay.”
“Now,” I said. “Show me how you’d push someone away if they grabbed you from the front.”
She placed her palms against my chest and shoved. Weak. Ineffective. She’d barely move someone my size.
“Again. But this time, don’t just push. Explode through the movement. Drive from your legs.”
She tried again. Better, but still not enough.
I caught her wrists gently. “You’re holding back.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I fought the returning smile. “I’ll survive.” I released her and stepped back. “But the guy who comes after you isn’t going to hold back. So neither can you.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Anger, maybe. Or determination.
Good.
“Again,” I said.
This time when her palms hit my chest, I felt real force behind them. I took an exaggerated step back, nodding approval. “There you go. That’s the energy. Now let’s work on getting out of a grab.”
I moved behind her, slow enough that she could track my movement. “I’m going to put my arm around you like the guy did at the party. Light pressure, just showing you the position. Tell me if it’s too much.”
“I’m okay.”
I stepped close, bringing my arm carefully around her torso. She stiffened, her breath catching.
“You with me?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Her voice was tight. “I’m here.”
“Good. Now, you’ve got several options. First one.” I kept my grip loose, demonstrating rather than restraining. “Drop your weight. Make yourself heavy, harder to move. Then drive your elbow back into my ribs. Don’t hold back.”
She tried a halfhearted jab.
“Harder, Sloane. Like you mean it.”
She threw her elbow back with real force, and I grunted despite bracing for it.
“Perfect. Again.”
We ran through it three more times. Each repetition, she grew more confident. More decisive. The fear in her movements gradually replaced by something fiercer.
I released her and she turned to face me, breathing slightly harder. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.
“What else?” she asked.
“You want more?”
“I want to know all of it.”
Pride welled in me. “All right. Front grab. Someone grabs your arm or your shirt.” I reached forward and closed my hand gently around her wrist. “What do you do?”
“Pull away?”
“Try it.”
She tugged against my grip. I held firm, not hurting her but showing her the futility of just pulling.
“You’ll never out-muscle someone bigger than you,” I said. “But you can out-technique them. Move your arm in a circle, toward my thumb. That’s the weakest part of any grip.”
She rotated her wrist the way I’d shown her, and her arm came free easily.
“Oh.” Surprise lit her face. “That actually worked.”
“Physics. Leverage. All the things that matter more than strength.” I held out my hand again. “Do it until it’s automatic.”
We practiced the release over and over. Wrist grabs. Shirt grabs. Hair grabs, though those made her flinch and I kept my touch feather-light against her hair.
“You’re doing great,” I said after the tenth repetition. “You’re a natural.”
“I don’t feel like a natural.” She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing hard. “My heart is racing.”
“That’s the adrenaline. It’ll pass.” I grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “But you did good, Sloane. Really good. A few more sessions like this, and you’ll have solid fundamentals.”
She took a long drink, then looked at me with something raw and honest in her expression. “Thank you. You were right. I feel better having these tools.” She smiled, soft and genuine.
We stood there for long moments, both breathing hard and flushed from exertion. I turned away when my mind conjured ideas far less than professional.
“We should put the furniture back,” I said, stepping away before I did something stupid like kiss her. “It’s late. We should get another couple hours of sleep if we can.”
Disappointment flickered across her face, there and gone. “Right. Yeah.”
We worked in silence, returning the room to its original arrangement. But every time our hands brushed passing a pillow or moving the couch, electricity sparked between us.
When the last piece was in place, Sloane climbed the stairs and disappeared into her room.
I returned to the couch and lay down, my body still humming with awareness. The feeling of her in my arms, even in a training context. The trust she’d shown me. The way she’d looked at me when she thanked me.
I was in serious trouble. Because keeping Sloane safe was more important than keeping my distance.
Even if it killed me.