“Lena, I’m not the one on the defensive in this scenario. You are. Now, get your butt in here.”
I climb in after him and try not to be distracted by all the muscles before me.
“I want to see where you’re starting from in self-defense.”
“I had classes in college,” I reply with a shrug. “But it was mostly for exercise.”
His jaw firms. He doesn’t like that answer.
“I wanted to teach you self-defense when you were seventeen. I was outvoted.”
“Why do I need it? I always have a crowd of testosterone-fueled men surrounding me. Hell, Howey managed to smack meonce, and—”
“Fucking say that again,” he growls, stepping into me. “Who the fuck isHowey?”
I roll my eyes. “The idiot ex. He was nice until he wasn’t.”
“He slapped you with witnesses around? What the fuck did he do when you were alone, Lena?”
Nowhe’s breathing hard, and every muscle is tight with anger. It’s a good thing Howey isn’t here right now because he’d likely be getting his ass handed to him.
“He didn’t do anything bad when we were alone. I mouthed off at a party”—he starts to speak, but I cut him off—“which I know isnota reason to ever raise your hand in anger. He slapped me across the face, my guys jumped in right away, and I never went out with him againbecause I may be a pushover, but I don’t put up with that nonsense. No second chances.”
He swallows hard. “When?”
I frown, thinking it over. “About a year ago, I guess. I saw him at the gallery the other night, and I basically told him to go fuck himself.”
“Good.”
“I also told my detail that I don’t ever want him near me again.”
“Also good.” He steps away and walks to the middle of the ring. “Come here. I’m going to be the pretend bad guy.”
“And I’m the damsel in distress.”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. You’re going to kick my ass.” He raises his hand and gestures for me to come closer. “I’m about to act like I’m going to slap you, and I want you to deflect.”
“If we’re in the heat of the moment, and you suddenly hit me, I can’t see that coming and push your hand away.”
“Yes. You can.”
Chapter Six
Gideon
She’s exhausted. We’ve been in this ring for an hour, going over self-defense and hand-to-hand moves, and she’s barely standing.
But she won’t complain.
I’m not trying to push her to collapse—I’m trying to get her to tell me that she’s done. But this woman never would complain. For all the times I was frustrated with her, or even scared for her, she never complained.
It seems that hasn’t changed.
“You’re going easy on me,” she says with a scowl and pushes the hair that’s escaped her braid from her face with shaking hands.
For fuck’s sake, Rebel, call it already.
“If I didn’t go easy on you, every bone in your body would be broken by now.”
