by Abby James
“Are you going to tell me now?”
“Nope.”
“This isn’t a date, is it?”
Chett barked a laugh. “What would you say if I said yes?”
“I’m not sure of the ethics of a teacher dating his student.”
“You think you’re my student?”
“What have we been doing this last week?”
“I don’t see you as my student.”
What do you see me as? I didn’t have the courage to say it out loud, although I would’ve loved to have known.
Ryker had mysteriously disappeared after the fight day. He seemed in a hurry to dump me back at Miss Tule’s and then he squealed his car wheels off into the traffic like I was a contagious infection he feared catching. Sargon and Chett explained his absence at my training as something personal he needed to attend to, which sounded to me like they were dowsing my query quick smart.
“What have you learned from Miss Tule this last week?”
I rolled my eyes as an indication to the boredom of her lessons. Some of the history was interesting, but when we diverted to politics, my eyelids drooped and my mind fuzzed up.
“I’m interested in the ancients most of all. I didn’t realize the Arena was as old as it was.”
“So you understand the dichotomy of having a military ruler alongside the ruling body of the council?”
“It seems strange the two should still exist side-by-side. Why doesn’t the council just oust the commander-in-chief?”
“They’re a bunch of soft-cocks. Our boys would never follow them.”
It was interesting the way he saw the military as his as well as Sargon’s. The way the three of them spoke about each other, sometimes it was hard to separate the commander from his second-in-command and general.
“The power of the CIC is outside council law, so they can’t touch him. Besides, we have a bloodthirsty past, which is still very much a part of our culture. The people may have formed the council after the war that created our territories, but they would never follow one of the council members into war. We may seem peaceful now, but in our hearts, there is violence. It’s the way of the ancients, our ancestors.”
“Sounds like an easy way to end up with a military dictator. What would stop the CIC from disbanding the council?”
“Morality. But it’s what the last CIC, Renus, did. The council became figureheads. He planned to win back the territories and rule as one nation again as it had been during the rule of the ancients. Many in Fortescue believed in the future he desired.”
“And Sargon stopped him.”
“Violence was all Renus understood. It’s the way he ruled Fortescue. Someone had to stop him.”
“Did he kill my father?”
Chett gave me a swift glance before staring at the road again. “No one knows. Your father was poisoned. A demeaning way for a fighter to die and especially someone as great as your father.”
“Do you know how he and Mum met?”
“Not the personal details, no. You could ask Miss Tule.”
“Why?”
“She was a student at her academy.”
“No way,” I shouted.
“Your mother never explained anything to you?”
“She told me my father’s name was Hamish.”
“I guess she thought it was safest you never knew.” He stared ahead for a moment before saying, “Miss Tule was responsible for getting you out of Fortescue. She was the one who learned of the plot to kill the three of you. She demanded the council act. Remember that next time you feel the desire to complain about her lessons.”
My lips twitched at his less-than-subtle lecture. “And that’s why she’s allowing you to train me.”
“Sargon is the reason she is allowing us to train you.”
“Why would the commander-in-chief take a personal interest in me?”
“You underestimate your charm.” He winked at me with a wolfish grin and a dozen sparks shot off throughout my insides.
“The three of us were young when your father died, but we remember the sort of man he was. Out of respect for him as a commander as well as a man, we wish to protect you. Between Miss Tule and the three of us, we will make sure at some point you can protect yourself.”
“And maybe discover who killed my father, and who wants my brother and me dead.”
“Don’t tread that path, Malachi. It will only lead to pain.”
“I’m not a vengeful person.”
“I’ve learned never to underestimate anyone.”
Our conversation was cut off by our arrival. Chett swung in behind an expensive-looking car. During our conversation, he’d left the affluent area of the city behind and descended into what could only be described as the slums of the city. The buildings lacked the charm of the older quarter. The streets were filled with litter, the brickwork graffiti. Here, it seemed, not even the plants hoped to survive. Ladec would never match the standards of the better parts of Fortescue, but compared to the slums, Ladec was a playground for the wealthy.
Without a word, Chett climbed out. I surveyed a group of young boys two cars down, gathered in a group. The one facing me had a large knife shoved down his pants, and perhaps many more concealed elsewhere. We’d never had groups of troublemakers in Ladec, maybe because there were never enough youths to form sizable gangs that could create a threat.
Chett opened my door, which was not the reason I’d remained in the car. “Are you expecting me to use the meagre skills you’ve taught me so far in a real-life situation?”
He flashed me a quick smile. “I’d be impressed if you tried. The point of our visit here is more training.”
I slide out, keeping my eyes on the gang. “I’m liking this less and less.”
“You’re not expected to get your hands dirty yet.”
“That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
Chett pressed a button on his key fob and the car made a funny sound while it flashed its lights. He rested his hand at the small of my back to steer me forward. “No one respects property around here.”
A huge guy dressed in black with arms as thick as my waist, legs triple that size, strode toward us, eyes primed on Chett. My body charged for action, but beside me, Chett remained calm.
“Evening, sir.” The huge guy nodded his head at Chett.
“Raks.”
The ebbing adrenaline left my body tingling.
“You’ve arrived just in time, sir. The big one’s about to begin.”
Chett looked at me. “This is something we plan not to miss.”
Since he took up so much of the path, Raks was forced to turn sideways to let us pass.
Upon seeing me turn to look back at Raks, Chett said, “His job is to keep the locals off the cars.”
“Are you going to tell me why I am here besides the lame excuse of training?”
“You’re here to learn about the other side of Fortescue that hides below the wealth and privilege. It’s likely Miss Tule will send you into these parts at some point in the future when you are properly trained.”
“Why would she do that?”
Chett maneuvered me so my back was to the brick wall.
“You still don’t understand the point of Miss Tule’s academy, do you?”
“Obviously not.”
“Miss Tule controls the pulse of this city, the highway of knowledge that operates below the council. And in a place like this, knowledge is power, which would place her as one of the most powerful women in Fortescue.” He palmed both his hands against the brick wall with me trapped in the center. He leaned down. “And how do you suppose she gains this knowledge?”
“Through her students.”
A smile caught his lips at the same leisurely pace as his eyes wandered to my mouth. “You will become her weapon.”
“Gathering knowledge?” Given my situation and Chett’s proximity, the heady aroma of his cologne and the focus he lavished on my mouth, I could be excused for the weak
sound of my voice.
“More than that.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster.
Chett leaned even closer. My breath hitched as his danced across my skin.
“Sometimes”—he tilted his head and lowered it to the nape of my neck—“Miss Tule must make subtle strikes.”
I inhaled deep. My pulse ratcheting up to overload as I waited to feel his lips on my skin. Suddenly he lurched back like someone had hauled him off of me. He spun away, ramming his hands through his hair, but not before I caught a wildness flaming in his eyes. He’d grimaced as if in pain, but the sort of pain that comes from warring with aggression. I’d seen it once or twice in Seb’s expression and also on Ryker’s face before he distanced himself from me.
The sweet tingle of my arousal vanished to be replaced by a sudden sweep of coldness that hallowed my gut. I couldn’t bring myself to ask him what was going on.
With a strangled voice, he said, “We need to leave.”
What the hell was up with these guys? First Ryker did a sudden disappearing act after going all weird on me the other day and now Chett.
“We’re here now. Let’s finish with my education.” I guess I found the courage to say that from my rising frustration. Why keep alluding to all these skills I had to gain only to dump me super quick before I managed to learn anything?
“You don’t understand.”
“Damn right I don’t understand. Are you going to disappear like Ryker now?”
Chett swiveled back to face me. “This is not a good time.”
“After bringing me all the way here, you tell me it’s not a good time.”
He ducked his head, fists clenched by his sides as he blew out a heavy breath. It was like looking at a statue of a perfectly chiseled man rendered in a pose of internal conflict.
People flowed past, heading to a nondescript building with wood paneling on one side instead of a window. Graffiti marred the wall and a single light bulb above the door flickered with the promise of going out. There was nothing to explain why everyone should be interested in heading inside.
Chett pulled himself together with a harsh out breath. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He marched away, forcing me to jog to catch up.
“Umm…are you going to tell me what happened back there?”
Without looking at me, he said, “No.” Not bothering with the queue, he stormed to the door and another thickset guy who was feeding the people through the door in an orderly fashion. One look at Chett and the guy roughly pushed a girl and guy aside, opening us a path, which Chett took without dropping his stride. The couple swore at the thick guy, but when they saw Chett, they knocked heads, whispering to each other. We zipped through the door too quickly for me to catch what they were saying.
Inside, Chett moved past two ladies standing behind a booth collecting money. Both stopped to watch him pass but made no move to call him back and make him pay the fee for entry. Around a partition, we entered into a cavern choked with people. The music vibrated through my body and the lights strobed across my skin. The strobing also turned everyone around me into a mix of body parts. Dwarfed by the mostly male crowd, I was assaulted by the familiar smell of elbian. Tobacco and alcohol. The sour odor of sweaty bodies added to the toxic mix.
With Chett leading, we pushed through the male-dominated crowd with little trouble. Every so often he glanced behind, making sure I was still behind him, which was something, I guess.
Suddenly a hand caught me around the waist. I was yanked off my feet and pulled backward until I collided with somebody behind. The sweat from his body penetrated my T-shirt as he leaned over, crushing me close to him. His stale breath overrode all the other terrible smells. Just as I was thumbing through the meagre list of defense moves the three had taught me so far, there was a blur of motion in front of me and the guy jerked backward, releasing me. Free, I staggered forward out of his embrace and turned to see Chett with his hand against the guy’s throat. His eyes echoed the wildness from what had overtaken him outside, his menace made worse by his silence. He actually lifted the guy off the ground by his hold on the guy’s throat.
With the guy’s face turning red from Chett’s grip, another man readied himself to strike at Chett from behind. I was about to yell a warning, but Chett moved with sped, hurling the guy in his grasp into the crowd behind before turning and colliding with the guy coming at him from behind. The guy cried out and crumbled to the floor, dragging another with him. The rest of the crowd shuffled back, creating a clearing. I gasped at the sight of blood seeping from the two downed men. Chett stood in the clearing with a blooded blade in his hand. Where had he pulled that from and how had he managed to do it so fast I hadn’t seen? With closed eyes, stemming a well of fury so vast it vibed out of his pores, he fisted his free hand in front of his face.
Bouncers appeared within moments of the upheaval, but they ignored Chett and went about clearing the bloodied men. This brought Chett to his senses. He lurched toward me, grabbed my hand on passing and yanked me along behind him. His grip crushed my hand as I stumbled along, unable to keep up with his pace.
“Chett, you’re hurting me.” My plea was drowned by the music around us.
Chett kept his mad dash through the crowd, which miraculously parted as quickly as we steamrolled through. Soon he headed for a burly guy dressed in the same outfit as the guy at the door. Upon seeing us barreling toward him, the guy spun and opened a door, which had meshed seamlessly with the wall.
We entered into a dark, narrow corridor smelling of recycled air. On either side of us were shut doors, but Chett appeared to know where he was going. He kept his manic pace until we ended up at the last door. Without bothering to knock, he burst in, sling-shotting me through. I staggered into the room and flung into Picard’s arms.
“What the hell?” Picard said.
“Your fight’s over,” Chett barked, his voice savage.
“I can’t. There’s big money riding on this one.”
“Not anymore. Take her back to Miss Tule.” He turned his back on us.
“You brought her. It should be you?”
Chett spun and slammed Picard against the wall, his hand a death grip at his throat. “Remember who you are. You don’t get to argue anymore.”
Picard’s face flushed red, but by the way his eyes nailed into Chett, it had more to do with his anger. Chett held him long enough to ensure Picard remembered his place, whatever that was. No doubt it had something to do with the military. Although, if Picard was in the military, what was he doing here?
Chett finally backed away. He headed for the door. At the last, before disappearing out into the corridor, he jabbed a finger in the air at Picard. “She doesn’t get hurt.”
Chapter 23
He remembered her inquisitive green eyes the most, then her captivating lips and her adventurous courage. Malachi, or should he say Amelia, was an addictive enticement for a man to be around.
“Beats me what that was all about.” She stood in the center of his change room eyeing the space around her.
Since they’d last met, over one week ago, Picard had spent a good deal of his spare time, which was less than he had before but more than a normal recruit to the military, uncovering the secrets of this beguiling woman who stood before him. A few surprising truths emerged, the smallest being her name change when she was very young. Rayce’s daughter. Who would’ve guessed? It explained the three’s interest in her and their choice to train her themselves rather than allow Miss Tule, who had a fearsome reputation when it came to martial arts, to do it.
Picard shrugged. “It gives me a second chance with you.” He quirked a broad smile to confuse her as to whether he was serious or not in his assertion. Now knowing who she was, he wasn’t sure if going hard at making her his—his usual modus operandi when it came to a woman who’d caught his attention—was a wise decision. With Sargon and his two sidekicks keeping her tight, it was perhaps pertinent he tread lightly, get a feel for the way things
unfolded before he made a move.
He’d caught her attention with that remark. Her eyes roamed over him. In response to her look, his body flared to life. He wore nothing but fighting briefs, which made things a little awkward. To save embarrassment, he headed for the water cooler. “You’re looking a little flushed. Perhaps you’d like a drink.”
“Thanks.”
With his back to her, he concentrated on other mundane thoughts to calm his reactions, knowing full well his butt cheeks were on display. Not that she would see any flesh there, but the boxers hugged the curves like a second skin. They were designed to please the women spectators, who Mal constantly tried to attract to the fights, as well as allow the fighter complete freedom of movement.
On turning back, he caught Malachi’s eyes flicking from his ass to the wall behind him. Knowing she’d been taking advantage of his turned back only enflamed his situation at the front. Dammit.
Picard sunk to the bench seat beside the cooler and handed her the water he’d poured, forcing her to step closer to retrieve it. The smallest twitch at the corner of her lips, and she’d outed him. He’d never received an unfavorable reaction from a woman when he’d accidentally revealed his desire for her, so he never worried overly. But the tricky situation with Malachi and the three required smart handling. His place in the military meant everything to him; respect from Sargon meant more.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“Back at you.”
“Chett brought me. I had no idea where we were going.”
“This is a ring fight.”
Her eyes slipped over his body again. “You’re a ring fighter? Whatever that means. But shouldn’t you be at the barracks training?”
“Sargon seems to think my level of skill does not require as much as most recruits. He feels my time is better spent at the ring fights.”
“Seems strange.”
“Not if you understood the true reason I’m here.”
“Which is?”
The conversation had lulled his raging hormones, so he stood, confident there was nothing left to embarrass him with. “To take you home.”
