by Janie Crouch
6
“Today I’m going to touch you. You’re ready.”
Noah carefully watched Marilyn’s face as he said it to see if she was, in fact, ready for him to touch her.
It was their third week of training. She’d been showing up twice a week for him to go over self-defense moves with her. So far, they’d focused on what she could learn in any basic self-defense course.
It was a start, but nowhere near the level of preparation Noah wanted for her by the time they were finished.
He’d spent a good deal of time on the phone with Zac Mackay getting his advice about what exactly to include in Marilyn’s lessons. Zac’s company, Linear Tactical, taught a lot of different self-defense and situational awareness courses, so Zac knew what to add. Plus, Zac had met Marilyn personally since she was friends with Annie, and knew the woman’s petite size and gentle disposition.
Fighting and hurting someone else went against Marilyn’s very nature.
She naturally wanted to care for others. She was kind, giving. Someone who should be protected and cherished.
But that option had been stolen from her, so Noah was determined to give her the tools that would enable her to defend herself.
For the past three weeks, he and Marilyn had been concentrating on self-defense basics and general strength-building. They’d discussed the body’s most vulnerable places. They’d worked on developing her core strength and how to throw a punch effectively, using her whole torso rather than just her arm. He’d showed her multiple exercises she could do at home, using her body weight to improve her overall strength.
They’d both been pleased to see the difference it made in what she was learning. She was obviously working hard at home, as well as here.
They’d also spent the last week with him showing her the basics of using a handgun—specifically, his Glock 19. She didn’t own any weapons, didn’t want them around the kids, and he understood that. But she still needed to be able to use the gun if it came down to it.
They spent the first thirty minutes of every session with the gun. Reloading. Safety on and off. How to hit what she was aiming for.
She was never going to win any marksman competitions, but she could at least pick up the gun, load it, and fire without even looking uncomfortable.
She’d worked hard at everything for the past three weeks. The woman may be a featherweight and lack every sort of attack instinct, but she wasn’t afraid to work hard.
Noah respected that. Hell, the more he knew about her, the more he respected her.
But now she was watching him with wary eyes.
“You’re going to touch me?”
He nodded. “There’s a few moves I’d like us to work on, but it will work much better if I’m able to come at you as if I’m the attacker.”
“Okay.” The side of her mouth crept up at the corner. “Do I get to hit you?”
He smiled. Damn it, he’d smiled more around this woman in the last month than he could remember doing his whole life. He’d thought he’d forgotten how to smile after what had happened in Afghanistan, but evidently not. All it took was one tiny, courageous woman to drag his smiles back out of him.
“Yeah, you can hit me.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you’re quick enough. You up for the challenge?”
She gave him a full smile. “Absolutely.”
“First, vulnerable points of the body. Go.”
“Eyes, nose, ears.” She pointed at each as she went. “Throat, chest. Knees, ankles, groin.”
She didn’t even have to think about them anymore. “Good. Most important rules. Go.”
“Don’t get hit. Fight to win, not to defend. There’s no such thing as a dirty fight.”
He’d been making her memorize them from day one.
“Good.”
“I still don’t really understand what any of that means, you know. I understand not getting hit, but I don’t know what you’re talking about when you say fight to win, not to defend.” She shook her head. “And I don’t really know how to fight at all, dirty or otherwise.”
“You ready to learn?”
“As much as I’d like to continue doing our wax on, wax off lessons, Mr. Miyagi, yeah, I’d like to actually learn how to fight.”
There you go. That was the feistiness he’d been looking for. Just the slightest bit of aggressiveness.
“Good. That’s exactly the point you need to be—really ready to get started. Since Jared is in jail, we’ve got some time. I had to toughen you up a little physically and mentally before we got to this point.”
“Because I was so weak?”
He took a step closer, he couldn’t help it. He was relieved when there wasn’t an ounce of trepidation in her gaze. “You’re not weak, gorgeous. Don’t ever let anyone—including yourself—tell you that. You survived what most people would never have made it through. Known pain most of the population will never experience in their lifetime. And you’re still here, upright and fighting, laughing and loving. That is very definitely not weak.”
She blushed and looked down at her feet. “Listen to you with the sweet talk.”
He would sweet talk her all day if it would get her squirming so prettily.
“Okay, fighting talk. Everything I’m about to say is going to go against your ingrained instincts. You’re a good, kind person. You lack killer instincts. You’re going to have to shut down your default settings and create a fight setting for yourself.”
She nodded. “I can do that.”
It was easy for her to think she could. And in truth, she probably would be able to, but it wouldn’t be as easy as she thought. The things he was about to teach her would be moves her opponent would not walk away from.
He was about to teach her to kill.
“I’ve been talking to Zac MacKay.”
She nodded. “Dr. Annie’s fiancé.”
“Linear Tactical teaches a lot of self-defense courses. I’ve been talking to Zac about things he personally taught Annie after she was attacked. Things to help her feel stronger and more in control.”
Marilyn nodded, wincing for her friend. “She told me a little about what happened to her. It makes sense that Zac would teach her self-defense moves.”
Noah folded his arms over his chest. “What I’m about to teach you—the things Zac taught Annie—would be illegal for him and me to use, even if we were in a fair fight. As former Special Forces soldiers, we are considered to have lethal training. So, unless we were in a life or death situation, we wouldn’t do what I’m about to show you.”
He could see her swallow as she processed the gravity of what he was saying. “Okay. I’m not afraid.”
“Good. If Jared, if any attacker, makes a threatening move against you, then rule number two and three automatically come into play, no questions asked.
“No such thing as a dirty fight.”
He nodded. “And fight to win, not to defend yourself.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to defend myself?”
“If you decide you like all this training, I’ll be happy to find you some sort of karate or jujitsu class so you can spar all the time—those spend a lot of time on defense. I can already tell that you’d be good at it.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Hell, yeah. Honestly, it would probably be good for the kids, too. You could all do it together.”
“It doesn’t instill violence?”
He shook his head. “No. If anything, the opposite. Self-control. Confidence to know you can handle most situations, which eliminates the need to flex and start fights in the first place.”
She didn’t look convinced and he realized she was worried about Sam. Worried that he might follow in his father’s abusive footsteps. “I think it would definitely be good for Sam, although Eva does not strike me as someone who’s going to get left behind while her big brother’s doing something fun and active.”
Marilyn finally smiled. “That’s the truth.”
“Oka
y, we can look into it if you want. But the discipline you would learn in those martial arts classes is not the same as what we’re going to learn here.”
He dropped his volume even though there was nobody else around. “I’m going to teach you how to put someone down. You need to be aware that these moves could possibly kill someone. And even more importantly, especially when it comes to Jared, you have to not care.”
“Why would I care if I hurt Jared or not?”
“I’m not talking about just hurting him. I’m talking about maiming, even killing.”
“Oh.” Those big eyes got even bigger.
“You’re small, and he thinks he knows you.”
A shadow fell over her face.
“What? Am I wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. He always called me predictable. And…”
“Say it, gorgeous. Don’t give him any power over you here.”
“Stupid. He always called me predictable and stupid.”
God, he wanted to pull her into his arms more than he wanted his next breath. But he couldn’t, not yet. Not until she was ready—if she was ever ready. All he could do right now was give her the gift of preparation.
“You use his ignorance to your advantage. Jared won’t be expecting you to fight back—particularly not with any sort of skill. You have to use that. You have to strike without mercy, not trying to defend yourself, but to take him out. Maim him. Worse even.”
“Rules two and three,” she whispered.
“That’s right, gorgeous. Fight to win, and don’t think of what you’re doing as dirty tactics. You cannot give one second’s thought about what damage you might do to him. You cannot go on the defensive and wait for him to attack. You have to move first and strike without mercy.”
She swallowed hard but nodded. “I… Okay, you’re right.”
“I know it goes against your nature, but it’s what you have to do. Even then, catching him off guard might only buy you a few seconds. You’ll have to strike as hard as possible, no matter what sort of damage it’s going to do to him. Then get the hell out of there.”
There had been way too many nights that he’d lain awake in bed thinking about Marilyn being hurt.
Noah was no stranger to pain, but he knew pain was only part of the issue when it came to what she faced with her ex. The debilitating fear could take her out of play just as quickly as a well-aimed punch from Ellis.
Noah never wanted her to have to go through that again. He wanted to give her a fair shot.
Jared Ellis was fucking lucky he was in jail right now. Noah didn’t think he’d be able to stop from giving the man a taste of his own medicine.
And he would gladly do it for Marilyn. But she needed to know how to protect herself. She was never going to be great at it—she wouldn’t be quitting her day job to become a mercenary any time soon—but he could get her close enough that she could escape. Not to have to be the victim again.
He led her toward the barn. “Come in here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He held out his arm toward the hanging punching bag. It had a man drawn on it. “Meet Douchebag Jared.”
She glared at the bag. “I think that’s an insult to douchebags everywhere.”
Noah laughed. “Probably. But this bag is lined up so that you have an accurate representation of where Jared’s body would be in relation to yours. Police reports say he’s five-foot-eleven? That would put his head right about here.”
He pointed to the eyes, ears, and throat. The rest of Jared’s body had been drawn out too, down to the knees. “I couldn’t figure out a way to draw feet and toes, but we can do a lot of damage with the targets we have here.”
“Noah, this is amazing. Thank you. You went to a lot of work to make this accurate.”
“I did it for a reason. One of the few advantages you have is that you know the size, speed, and strength of the person who is most likely to attack you. We want to be as accurate as possible so we can use that to our advantage. Douchebag Jared will help.”
They spent the next hour and a half attacking the bag. Noah concentrated on teaching her blows to the throat and solar plexus. Both of those were excellent moves to have in her arsenal—and would take any attacker down for the count. Next week he’d make sure to go over how to ram Jared’s nose through his skull.
At first he held the bag for her so she could feel the aim of where her arm and hand needed to go to hit the throat or sternum. Once she had the hang of that, he got behind her, touching her like he’d known he would have to, to show her how to use her torso to strengthen her blows.
“You don’t have enough strength with your arm alone. It might stun him for a couple of seconds but that’s not going to be enough.” One hand moved to her hip, the other centered on her back. She didn’t pull away—that was good—as he showed her where to pull her power from. How much harder she could hit when she didn’t just use her arm.
She worked it over and over, relaxing into him and letting him help her. Practicing even after he asked if she wanted a break.
Damn if creating a killer was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
7
Breathe.
She’d been hitting that damn bag for what seemed like hours. She was sweaty, tired, and sore.
But it was the light, gentle pressure from Noah’s hand at her hip, his big body behind hers, that caused her breath to hitch.
And not in fear.
His hands had been on her the entire time she’d been working, striking Douchebag Jared again and again. First to help her with accuracy and force.
But they were still there now, resting on her lower waist, even as she was slowing, resting.
It had been so long since a man had placed his hands on her without there being an entire world of pain tied to his touch.
But it was way more than that. This was Noah.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Breathe.
He was training her to kill someone and she was getting all fluttery because of his hand on her waist.
“Think of your core as the power plant.” His voice was a little quieter than normal. “That’s where your strength comes from. Imagine a baseball player smacking one all the way out into the stands.” He chuckled. More fluttering in her stomach. “Unless you’ve never watched a game.”
She couldn’t contain her chuckle. “I get the reference.”
“You’ve seen a batter swing, too?”
She nodded.
“The power doesn’t come from their arms, not entirely, or else they would stand still except for their arms. Do you see what I mean? It’s the torque from their hips, their core, their shoulders. Everything works together to build the power that eventually comes out through the bat, into the ball.”
“Right.”
His touch was firmer now. “With that in mind, I want you to give me the one-two shot we practiced. Move slowly this first time. I’m behind you. My plan is to attack you. What do you do?”
What would she do?
Three weeks ago, she would’ve crumpled up in a ball. Would’ve covered her head with her crossed arms and prayed it wouldn’t be so bad this time around. She’d try to make herself as small as possible, less of a target.
But for the first time in her life, she had the tools to not be that person. To not be that… victim.
Which was why she used her elbow to deliver a blow to Noah’s solar plexus. She then jerked her arm upward, her elbow still pointed outward, and delivered a second blow to his throat.
Like he’d taught her.
She heard his grunt and immediately spun to apologize. But instead of the irritation she expected to find in his eyes, there was… something else. Focus mixed with pride.
“Good. That was the best you’ve done, especially given that I’m a person, not a punching bag. But don’t hesitate, okay? No such thing as a dirty fight. There’s only a fight.”
“Even against you?”
He lowered his head a little and offe
red a slight smile. “Don’t be afraid of hurting me—I have the advantage because I know what’s coming.”
He placed his hands on her hips and turned her so her back was to him again. “I’m going to show you how to move your hips to give yourself more power. Don’t be afraid.”
She wasn’t afraid. She really wasn’t afraid.
But God, even nicer than having his hands on her was the fact that he wasn’t treating her like she was fragile, like she was a pity case.
He was treating her like a student who was going to learn how to defend herself, no matter what.
He was treating her with respect. He was treating her like she was normal. It was everything.
This time, when she swiveled to hit him, Noah swung her hips in a decisive arc that did, in fact, help her deliver greater force. “Wow,” she marveled. “That worked!”
“You doubt Mr. Miyagi? Inconceivable.” He winked at her. “Again, Daniel-san.”
She tried again, then again. One-two. Solar plexus, throat. “Don’t hold back. Pull your power from your hips and your core. Put all your momentum behind it.”
By the time they finished, she was sweatier, her shoulder sore from the upward jerking motion it took to deliver an elbow to a taller person’s throat.
It was a good soreness, though. The sort of soreness that came from getting stronger. She rolled her shoulder a little, rubbing it with her left hand.
“Can I?” Noah held up his hands, letting her know he waited for her permission to be touched.
She offered a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
She barely swallowed a moan as his fingers rubbed into her tired, sore muscles.
“You’re probably going to want to ice that when you get home. You got just as much of a workout as I ever did throwing the football in high school.”
“Quarterback?”
“Yep. Tanner was, too. Took over for me after I graduated.”
Of course, the Dempsey brothers had both been quarterbacks. “Don’t tell Sam that. He’ll be hounding you to play all the time.”
“I’ll have to get the ball out next time you guys are here.”
She stepped away from his fingers so she could turn to face him. “You know you don’t have to, right? Any of this? You’ve helped me come so far in three weeks, Noah, but I know you didn’t take me on to raise. Any time you’re ready to stop, all you need to do is say the word—I’ll totally understand.”
