Chapter 40 Dax
Dax
Our plan, running cargo on a ship that we owned, had not survived contact with reality fully intact.
We had a successful cargo run under our belt, but the cost had been Finn.
Even though he’d been acting like an extreme ass, he was one of us, one of our squad, and leaving him behind hadn’t felt right.
But leaving Lacy behind hadn’t felt right either. Despite our rocky start, she fit in. She felt like one of the crew. If only I’d been able to get Finn and Burn to see that.
In just a few days, the rest of the team would be on the ship and we’d rescue Lacy’s sister. And then she’d disappear from my life.
Dammit!
In the space corps, things had been hard, but in some ways they’d been easier too. Big decisions were made by the brass. Now we had to make them ourselves. Had I made the right ones? Was it my fault Finn had been injured?
Burn had argued that we were all adults, all in charge of our own decisions, and as much as I felt responsible for everyone, she was right. The only one I could really help was myself.
I’d skipped PT today and, though it was late, I knew it would help get me out of my head. In my quarters, I quickly changed into high-tech, high-performance shorts and a tank top, then made my way to the gym.
Off-key singing filtered into the hallway before I reached it. I recognized Lacy’s voice, though I’d never before heard her sing. She was really, really bad.
Would sharing the gym with her be worth the torture?
Yes. Despite the truly awful singing, any time I spent with her was worthwhile.
Wincing, I stepped into the gym.
“Hey.” I must have surprised her, because she jerked her head up and bobbled a step. She caught herself and slowed the treadmill.
At least the singing had stopped, but I was halfway across the small room before I realized it. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, hi.” Cheeks flushed from exertion, skin glowy from sweat, she looked amazing.
“I didn’t think anyone would be down here. I mean, I’ve never seen you here before.” I hid my wince. That sounded like the world’s worst line and I’d meant it as a serious conment.
“Yeah, not a fan of gyms, but needed to work off some energy.”
Her words and the way she was dressed, in my clothes, flooded my brain with much better ways to work off excess energy. Turning away so she wouldn’t see the effect she had on me, I studied the mat in the center. Weights wouldn’t burn off the energy buzzing through my system, but movement might.
I removed my shoes then stepped to the center of the mat. My position provided a clear view of the entry and allowed me to watch Lacy in my periphery. With one last look around the room, I settled into my stance and closed my eyes. Bowing to a nonexistent opponent, I moved through the first kata.
The first set of movements were a warmup of sorts, getting my body and my brain to work in sync. They also provided the building blocks for later combinations. Muscle memory guided my hands and feet through one sequence and into the next.
As I slid deeper into my practice, executing the moves over and over again, I became more attuned to the sounds around me. The shush of the treadmill belt. The steady beat of Lacy’s feet. The rush of my pulse in my veins. The hum of the ship’s electrical system.
Fortuna vibrated beneath my feet, and I’d never felt so connected to a ship before. To my ship.
That rush of pride sent another pulse of energy through me and I channeled that last burst into the final, and most difficult, combination.
My arms sliced through the air, battling unseen opponents. I ducked, dodged, spun, and kicked. Every ounce of power I had, I fed into the movements. Until the series ended, the energy spent, and I was once more grounded to the mat and the ship beneath me.
As I slowly returned to awareness, I noticed the lack of sound in the gym. No more treadmill. No more footfalls.
No more Lacy?
My eyes flew open. Expecting to find myself alone in the workout room, my startled gaze met Lacy’s slightly glazed one.
She leaned against the treadmill’s handrail, a towel hanging loosely from one hand. Her skin shone with perspiration and sweat dampened the edges of her hair. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, almost as fast as mine.
“I thought you’d left,” I said.
“I was going to. When I finished my workout, but then . . .” she paused and swirled her free hand through the air. “Then you were doing that and I didn’t want to get in the way.”
I studied her. Everything she said could be the truth, but she seemed too affected to have just been waiting for me to finish.
“Good workout?” I had to distract myself from how good she looked all messed up. It was too easy to imagine another reason for her to be flushed, sweaty, and breathing hard.
“Good enough.” She jumped off the treadmill. Her breasts shimmied slightly beneath her T-shirt. My T-shirt.
“Just good enough?” I stepped closer. Close enough to see little drops of sweat beading at her temples.
“I’m restless,” she admitted. “It took the edge off, but I needed to do something . . .” Her voice trailed off. She gestured to the treadmill. “It’s all yours. I’ll get out of your way.”
“Do you know how to fight?” The question slipped out. It wasn’t a bad idea, though. I’d be happy to teach her. I wanted her to be able to protect herself if she ever faced men breaking into her home again.
“Some,” Lacy said with a shrug.
“Seriously?” My surprise must have shown because she smiled.
“I’ve picked up a few things.”
“Want to spar?” I didn’t disbelieve her, but this also gave me an excuse to spend more time with her.
Head tilted, she studied me. “Sure, why not.”
I jolted. I hadn’t actually expected her to agree. “Ground rules?” It would be very, very easy for me to hurt her, which was the last thing I wanted.
“No hits to the face,” she said.
“Agreed.”
“Nothing hard enough to bruise.”
“Okay.” I’d already planned to pull my punches.
“And no blood.” She looked at me. “What about you?”
“Those sound good.”
“Best of three?”
Surprised again, I nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She bent and unlaced her shoes. Hands pressed to the floor, she held the stretch. My sweats hugged her ass and I enjoyed the view for a moment, then looked away.
Her arms went wide as she stood, interlacing her fingers over her head. Arms extended, she tilted from side to side, then arced her back. The movement lifted her chest, accentuating her breasts.
I swallowed hard. This was torture.
She released her arms, swinging them back and forth, criss-crossing them in front, then in back. Stepping out of her shoes, Lacy padded onto the mat. “All set.”
Moving together, we positioned ourselves near the center of the mat, leaving roughly four feet of distance between us. Lacy shifted her body so she faced me sideways, her left foot in front, her right foot back, hovering on the balls of her feet. Her hands came up to shield her face.
I studied her position, looking for weaknesses, but it was a strong starting stance, well-balanced. She’d definitely had some training.
“Ready,” she said.
“Go,” I said.
We circled each other slowly, our relative distance not changing much.
My gaze drifted over her form again, studying her movements before I made my first move.
I knew how the rest of my crew fought; we’d trained together for years. Lacy was an unknown entity. A mystery. A challenge.
I liked challenges.
A wide smile on my face, reflecting how much I was looking forward to our session, I stepped toward her, throwing an experimental punch with my left hand, to test my range and to see how she reacted.
She swayed back easily and my hand swung harmlessly past her face.
Quicker than I expected, she darted forward. Ducking under my swing, she popped her fist just below my ribs.
“Fuck.”
Lacy slipped out of range.
“That would do some serious damage if you hadn’t pulled your punch.” Admiration in my tone. I honestly hadn’t expected her to get that close.
“Oh, I know. One for me.” She shot me a bright smile.
That smile was a challenge and a turn-on rolled into one. Game on.
I danced sideways, forcing her to turn as I circled her. A few jabs that she easily dodged or blocked.
Left, left, right.
Left, left, right.
Left, left, leg sweep.
Instead of a jab, I reached out and grabbed her shoulder with my front hand. My other hand grabbed her other shoulder almost immediately. Then I pulled her toward me.
“Shit.”
She leaned back, just as I’d expected. I was ready. My back leg swept around and I planted it right behind her feet. Then I let go of her shoulders.
She’d put a lot of force into pulling backward. As soon as I freed her, there was nothing to counter that momentum. She couldn’t step backward because my leg was there.
It was a controlled fall. She’d hit the ground, but it could be worse.
While I was busy picturing my point, she threw her arms forward and wrapped her hands around the back of my head.
Shit! I’d been distracted and now I was going to pay.
Using her grip around my head, she stepped in close and planted her foot in my abdomen. She fell backward, taking me with her.
I expected her to throw me over her head, but she maintained her grip. I flipped over her head and she used our momentum to roll with me. We landed with her on top, straddling my hips. Her hands quickly released my head to pin my wrists to the ground.
That was more than picking up a few things. That was training.
“My point,” she gasped.
“Hey!” I was breathing too hard to make a coherent argument. “I got your legs.”
Her hands pinned my wrists down. “But I’m the one who came out on top.”
I’d been really trying to ignore our position. She straddled me, her knees pressed into my sides. Her lower legs bracketed my hips and outer thighs, leaving her center hovering over my pelvis. If I arched against her, she’d feel my rapidly stiffening cock.
I lay on the floor beneath her. There were half a dozen moves I could use to unseat her and change positions. But why would I?