The one from behind was the hardest, and Jackson said he wanted to show me that one himself instead of having Bobby do it.
“When someone grabs you from behind,” Jackson said, behind me now, his voice close and even, “your instinct is going to be to freeze or to pull forward. Don’t. You go back into them, not away.” His arms came around me, and I was abruptly very aware of exactly how close we were. “Drop your weight, drive your elbow back, turn into it. You’re not trying to hurt them; you’re trying to create enough disruption to get free. We aren’t here to fight, we’re here to get away. Make sense?”
“It does.” I nodded.
“Good. There are other tactics, so even if we decide I’ll be doing your training later on, you should probably spend a little time with Tucker, as well. She’s a master at counter moves, so it wouldn’t hurt to learn her techniques, as well.”
“Right, makes sense,” I said.
“Okay, let’s try it. I’ll give you the grab, you run the counter move.”
His arms came around me properly this time, firmly, realistically, like someone was actually attacking me. I went through the motion. Dropped my weight, drove my elbow, and turned. He let me complete it, stepping back with the controlled ease of someone who’d just let a much smaller person demonstrate a technique on him without making it obvious that he’d allowed it.
“Good,” he said. “Again.”
We ran it four more times. By the third, I had stopped being aware of the warmth of him behind me and started actually thinking about the mechanics, which I suspected was the point. By the fifth, it felt like something I could remember under pressure.
“That one,” Jackson said, “is the one I want in your muscle memory before the Gala.”
Crowe stepped back, and Bobby stepped forward. “You want to run the other holds again?” he asked me.
“Sure,” I said.
Jackson let us work through them. Watching us the whole time and giving me pointers when he felt it was necessary.
We’d been at it for about an hour when Bobby checked his phone and made a face. “I’ve got to go. Wolfe has an assignment for me this afternoon.”
“Go,” Jackson said, then added, “Thanks for your help.”
Bobby rolled to his feet and grabbed his bag, giving me a nod on his way past. “You’re picking it up fast,” he said. “Seriously.”
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it.
The door swung shut behind him, and the gym went quiet.
“One more,” Jackson said.
“One more what?”
“The rear grab. I want you to run it cold, without thinking about it first.”
I set my feet.
He came up behind me, his arms came around me, I dropped my weight, drove my elbow, and turned. He caught my elbow mid-turn and didn’t let me complete it, which was new, and instead of stepping back, he stayed close, and I understood after a moment that the exercise was over.
“You’ve got it,” he said, quietly, close to my ear. “You’re going to be fine.”
I turned around inside the loose circle of his arms. We were back to the problem of the fitting room, where Jackson’s body was pressed up against mine in a totally inappropriate spot.
“Jackson,” I said.
“Noah,” he said.
“Bobby’s gone.”
“I noticed.”
“And we’re done with the self-defense portion of the morning.”
