I look from side to side. Is he joking? “Well, yeah. You told me to fight you off.”
“Right, but the key to a good defense is actually stepping into the hold.” He waves me back into position. “Let me show you. Come at me.”
Gladly.
I reach forward and grab his wrists just as he did mine. He steps close, twists into my hold, and I’m airborne.
I land on my back in the cushion of his arms. “Whoa!” I blink up at him. “What was that?”
His mouth gets soft and he leans in close. “Takedown.”
“There’s no way I’ll be able to do that.”
“Sure you can.”
“But you’re way bigger than me. Way stronger.”
“The most effective self-defense moves are joint manipulation. I rolled into your hold, took advantage of the angles. Only time I used my strength was to catch you, which by the way you won’t do in a self-defense situation.”
I glare at him and shove him away from me. “Okay, smartass. Teach me that.”
He pulls me to my feet, and we work through the moves a few more times until I’m able to twist into him enough to make him grimace and let go.
I grin huge and watch him shake out his arms. “I did it!”
“You did. On to lesson two.” He moves behind me. “Let’s say you get grabbed from behind.” He locks his arms around my chest, his warm breath at my ear. “Fight me.”
A shiver races down my spine and goose bumps rip up and down my arms. A low, approving chuckle vibrates his chest.
I pull against him, but his grip only tightens. Dammit. He told me to step into the hold. I need to lean back. Shifting my weight, I press my back to his front.
“Atta girl, Eve. Think. Use your mind to fight.”
My mind. Right. I close my eyes and feel his big, powerful body wrapped around me. I could stomp on his feet. I’ve seen that in moves before, but I don’t think that would be enough to get him to let go.
His hold gets tighter. “Side step.”
I do what he says.
“One more.”
I take another step to the side.
“Now, reach back with your left leg and hook behind my knee.”
Our legs almost side by side now, it’s easy to push back with my leg and hook his.
“Exactly, baby. Now throw your weight behind that leg and—shit!” His arms peel away from my body, and he stumbles a few steps. “That’s it.”
“I did it?”
“You did it. And I wasn’t making it easy on you.” Pride shines in his eyes, and a small grin dances across his lips.
“Can we do it again?” I’m practically tingling with excitement as power surges through my muscles.
I don’t know if the feeling is more from being able to execute the move, or if it’s from the look on his face that is still shining at me.
My guess is the second.
“Let’s do it.” He steps in close and wraps his arms around me from behind. “Focus. Orientate yourself.”
I nod.
“Right, now break free from me.”
Never.
Twenty-Six
Cameron
Seven twenty, seven twenty, seven twenty . . .
My pen traces the numbers into my notebook on repeat. The twentieth day of July. One of two days I never need to write in my planner to remember.
Today is the twins’ eighteenth birthday.
It hit me before I woke up as if I’m on some fucked-up alarm system that only remembers the worst shit imaginable. Every cell in my body and ounce of blood pumping through my veins could never forget the day I held my kids in my arms for the first time.
Life was so fucking promising back then with the entire future at our feet. And Rosie, she had enough life for the two of them. Always squirming, she hated being wrapped up tightly the way most babies loved. It was as if she knew there was so much waiting for her out there and she couldn’t wait to get at it.
Three years. All she got was three fucking years.
I Frisbee my notebook across the office, amazed I was even able to do that when my body feels as if it’s filled with concrete.
The phone on my desk buzzes. “Hey, Cam?” Layla’s voice is tentative, having probably heard me toss my planner.
“Yeah.”
“The guy from Cage Freak wants to know if he can set up a meeting with you today. I saw you cleared your schedule, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t looking at it wrong.”
“I’m leaving at noon.” Before I take Ryder out to dinner tonight, I have a few errands to run, and every one of them is going to be unpleasant.
“Oh, sure, okay, I’ll set him up for tomorrow.” The intercom clicks off.
I should write that down somewhere. In scribbled words, I make a note and stick it to my computer screen.
The intercom buzzes again. “Sorry to bother you, but there’s pretty little blonde out here whose mouth will put what’s written on a truck stop bathroom stall to shame.”
Eve? What’s she doing here?
“Want me to send her in?”
“Please.”