“Be that as it may, we’re not telling Ethan and my mom that we’re sleeping together.”
“Lying will make it seem sketchy.”
“It is sketchy! So far, it is.” I snap my fingers and try to move my trapped wrists. “Trading blow jobs for a place to live? A cat’s tail? Come on. Things are kinky and sketchy, Shane.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t mention the tail.” His smirk returns and is very infectious. I have to work to keep from sharing in the joke.
After Shane releases my wrists, he rolls onto his back and sits up. “The vacuum is in the hall closet. You clean up the feathers and then dress in school clothes and come down to the basement.”
School clothes? On a Saturday night? What the hell?
Rising, I arrange myself so my nakedness isn’t so exposed. “The basement? Why?”
“I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself with a knife.”
23
SHANE
By the time Avery gets downstairs, I’ve got a paint marker and mat ready. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater, which is a good start.
“Where’s your jacket and purse?” I ask.
She studies my face for a moment and then starts toward the stairs with a look of determination on her face.
“Hey, bring me down a jacket, too, and the night-light from the guest bathroom.”
Nodding, she disappears.
When she returns, I plug in the night-light and flick off the overhead one. It approximates the level of illumination on campus paths pretty well.
I pull my jacket on and smooth it down, assessing the thickness and how I feel about it being ruined if I can’t get the impending marks out. I decide I’m all right with sacrificing it to the cause.
“All right. If you pull a knife, you cut to kill, right? Like we talked about. So, of the kill zones, which would be the easiest to go for on me?”
She doesn’t answer at first, then says, “Neck?”
“Yeah, good, if you can reach it.”
I grab the paint marker, but leave the cap on. “Here’s what we’re going to do first. Your objective is to get a red mark on my skin in a kill zone. A dot on the outside of my clothes doesn’t help you.”
Grabbing her hand, I pull it up to my jaw, helping her find my carotid pulse. Once her fingers are over my pulse near the end of my jaw, I drag her fingertips down at the angle I want her blade to make. I illustrate the movement a second time, then lean forward for her to make the motion on her own.
“Femoral artery is good, too.” I put my hands on either side of my right femoral. “He won’t be naked, so you’ll have to get through his clothes. And your target is about the width of my finger. Less in someone smaller than me.” I hold my pinky up and then lay it against my jeans approximately where the artery should be. “Unless you’re very lucky with a single stab, it’s just like the throat. You’ve got to stab and then drag the blade. You might meet resistance because there’s a ligament.”
Her brows crinkle as she watches me.
“The chest isn’t a bad target for someone strong, but in your case, I’m not sure you could be effective. There are ribs to protect the heart and lungs, and there’s thick muscle between the ribs. Power is something we can work on later, maybe.”
Avery stands next to the mat, looking so small it makes me grimace. In fights, or even while sparring, I’ve only ever faced other men. I blow out a breath, my reservations mounting every time I look at her.
“Okay,” she says, breaking the silence. “Thank you.” Prompting me with a nod, she steps onto the mat. “What else?”
Reminding myself I was only eleven the first time Pops started to teach me to fight, I relent. “To try to mimic real-world conditions, sometimes when I come up to you I’m going to be playing Casanova and others I’m going to be playing an innocent student. You’ll have to decide which I am. You don’t want to stab a kid for stopping you to ask for directions.”
Avery nods, chewing on her lower lip.
“But listen, when I’m Casanova, at some point, I’m gonna be rough. He can’t afford to get caught, and he never has. He doesn’t hesitate, and he could be as big as I am.”
