Page 31
I already dislike being paired with him. He’s underestimating me, like most men do because of how small I am.
Walking away from him, I call over my shoulder. “If you want to get a different assignment, or get someone else assigned with me, go ahead.”
“I didn’t peg you for a quitter.”
His nonchalant quip makes me spin, the ends of my ponytail whipping against the side of my face. “We both know how you pegged me, Evander. A weak, defenseless woman.”
He pushes his brows together, looking offended. “The strongest person I ever had the honor of knowing was a woman. I’m not that guy, I promise.”
Guilt washes through me. I just called him sexist, and he’s right—it wasn’t fair. I sigh heavily.
“Come on,” he calls. “Shake it off. I’m good if you’re good.”
I walk toward him, still aggravated. “Is this really necessary? We’ve established that I’m not physically capable of overpowering a man the size of a polar bear, but that’s nothing new.”
He looks like he’s fighting a smile. “I’ve learned more than that about you since you walked in here, and you’ve learned about me, too.”
Have I, though? He’s been running this show, making me expose my weaknesses while only showing me what he wants me to see.
“Who’s the woman?” I ask.
His brows shoot up. “What?”
“The strongest person you’ve ever known.”
His expression turns dark and serious. “The strongest two people, really. My grandma was one of them. But the person I was referring to was my squadmate, Deb.”
“What kind of squad?”
He looks away from me as he answers, his gaze locked onto a poster on the concrete block wall that shows how to do CPR step by step.
“Navy SEALs. Deb ...” He shakes his head, and I finally see something in him I can identify with—loss. “She was special.” He clears his throat. “Now let’s get back to it.”
I walk the rest of the way over to him, and as soon as I stop walking, he says, “Try to hit me.”
I furrow my brow because it’s like asking me to get on a whale and take it for a ride. To hit him, I have to be in his reach.
“Give me your best,” he says. “If someone’s got a gun to my head and you’re the only hope, show me what you’d do.”
I bend my knees slightly lower, clenching my fists to make it look like I’m going to aim for his face. He looks way too calm, like he’s expecting me to slap him or something.
I drive my foot upward into his crotch, dialing back on the force a little at the last second.
A little. He still doubles over, groaning loudly.
“Motherfucker.” He whispers it fiercely.
“You said to give you my best,” I remind him.
He huffs out a note of bitter laughter. “Yeah, give me a second.”
When he straightens, his eyes seem to be a darker shade of brown when they lock onto mine—the color reminds me of trees in the jungle at night on the island.
“Let’s move on,” he says tightly. “I need to teach you some signals for when we’re communicating in silence.”
“Should I have stopped before I got to your balls?”
There’s a flicker of annoyance before he says, “You did what I asked.”
