Red Handed

by Gena Showalter

A preview of our next class, perhaps?

  "Word on the street is you've fought side-by-side with him, Phoenix," Jenn said. "What's he like?"

  I didn't have to ask who "he" was.

  Dani's eyes widened. "You fought with him?"

  "Yes," I answered, "and he's okay." I didn't want to increase their salivating.

  "Okay?" Cara nudged my arm. "That's all? Come on. Surely there's more."

  "Nope. That really is all." Except maybe, he's mine. And, don't touch.

  When did you become so possessive?

  Since last night, when he'd invaded my thoughts and all I wanted to do was kiss him.

  "I wonder what we'll have to do in the cage," I said, taking us back to the subject that had started all the wonderings about Ryan. Would we be locked up? Forced to fight each other? I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering how that would go over.

  Boys could fight and make up, no problem. Girls couldn't. None that I'd met, at least. Girls held grudges for every scratch.

  "I hate that we're forbidden to date the instructors," Cara whined, disregarding my subject change. "I'm already imagining the things I could do to Ryan...."

  Grrr. My teeth gnashed together. Maybe fighting in the cage wasn't such a bad idea. Cara could use an introduction to my fist.

  All this anger over a boy who probably doesn't remember your name?

  He'd remember, I thought, chin lifting. He'd even tweaked my nose. Actions of a brother to a sister, idiot.

  "If top brass is going to have a nondating rule like that," Kitten purred, "then the instructors need to be ugly."

  Everyone laughed. Even me. She was right. So far, every instructor I'd seen was a candidate for a beefcake or angelcake holocalendar. I guess I understood the need for a certain body type, though. To catch predators, you had to be fast. You had to be strong. You had to be flexible.

  I wasn't particularly fast. Or flexible. Yet. But I would be, I vowed. I'd work hard. I'd exercise. I'd--gag--eat right. Maybe Ryan would notice me as more than a sister type then.

  "What kind of meals do they serve here?" I asked. More important, when was breakfast? If the food was anything like what I'd endured at rehab, I was going to suffer. Small portions, bland, and gross.

  Before anyone could answer, the elevator doors glided open and the light inside it dimmed. All sense of amusement faded from our group as darkness enveloped us.

  "What is this place?" Kitten whispered.

  "I can't see anything," Johanna said, unsure. "Can you see? Can anyone see?"

  "It's like a black hole," Lindsay breathed.

  Like the others, I couldn't see anything but gloom and shadow.

  "Do we enter?" Dani asked quietly.

  "We might as well." A little nervous, I took the lead and moved forward. I kept my arms outstretched, trying not to bump into anything. I encountered a wall and turned away from it. "This is probably a test."

  "Maybe we're supposed to stay in the elevator to pass," Jenn said with a shaky lilt.

  "Maybe that's the perfect way to fail." I hit another wall and cursed under my breath. "We're in this together. We'll be fine." A moment passed and none of them moved. Or rather, I didn't hear any of them move.

  "All right," Kitten said. "Let's do this."

  I felt her inch up behind me, latch onto my arm, and we moved forward together. I tripped once, twice, but kept going. The room we'd entered was blacker than the elevator and--wait. Three slivers of golden light trickled from the ceiling and onto the floor. I moved toward them, but couldn't make out any of the room's features. It was like stepping straight into midnight on an abandoned street.

  A few seconds later, my eyes adjusted and I could finally see something beside black and three golden rays. The floors were concrete with jagged lumps scattered here and there. Rocks? My brow furrowed. Why were there rocks inside the room?

  My palm brushed a wall, and I halted abruptly. I heard the others do the same.

  "This is where you will learn to fight," a male voice said, only a short distance away. Ryan's voice. "Welcome."

  I shivered.

  He stepped into one of the muted beams, yet shadows still pulsed around him, hiding most of his face. He was a slash of dark in a room of black. "Jog in place while I speak," he said.

  "Wh--what?" I asked, still reeling from his sudden presence.

  "You heard me." His tone was stern, commanding. "Jog in place. All of you. Now."

  Pushing out a breath, I hopped into motion. Elbows and knees slammed into me as the other girls did the same. Grunting, I spread out as best I could. Stupid darkness. (Stupid Ryan. He hadn't seemed overjoyed to hear my voice.)

  "You'll fight most aliens at night," Ryan said, now amused. Could he see us? "So you must learn to fight them without seeing them. You'll fight most aliens outside, with nothing to cushion your falls. Therefore, you will train without any hint of softness underneath you."

  All around me, I could hear the girls panting. My skin was already beading with sweat.

  "You will be hurt during these training sessions," Ryan explained. "Get used to the idea now. I won't go easy on you, and I won't let you go easy on each other. The Outers won't."

  He paused.

  Please tell us we can stop jogging. Please tell us we can stop jogging. I'd gotten enough exercise with Mia.

  He didn't, of course. "Starting out this way might seem cruel, but I'm actually doing you a favor. If you expect the worst, you'll be prepared for the worst. If you learn to fight past your exhaustion, you'll tap into a reservoir of strength you never knew you possessed."

  Air burned in my lungs, but I didn't slow my gait.

  Ryan spoke for another five minutes before ushering us to one of the side walls, which we had to feel our way to find. "Sit."

  We did, finally able to catch our breath. Soon my eyes adjusted to the dark completely, and I was able to make Ryan out more clearly. And that, of course, was when he flipped on the lights. My lids blinked open and closed against the orange and red dots, trying to help my eyes adjust once again to the change.

  When they did, I almost wished Ryan had left off the lights.

  He looked good. Too good. Mouthwateringly good.

  Today he was wearing a black T-shirt, black pants, and black boots. He was a shadow, even in the light. His dark hair was in disarray, and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. To him, we probably looked like tired, sweaty lumps of shit.

  "Are you ready to begin?" he asked. He met each and every girls' stare--except mine. Me, he avoided looking at altogether and that made me frown. That wasn't just a little rude of him, that was flat-out harsh.

  What had I done? Had I made him mad?

  I scoured my mind, replaying our last conversation, but couldn't think of anything I had done to offend him. With that realization came anger. He had no right to ignore me. He had no right to treat me as less than the others.

  "Well," he commanded more coarsely. "Are. You. Ready?"

  After everyone had nodded, he added more calmly, "Then let's do this."

  For the next hour, he showed us a few hand moves and the best way to hit an Arcadian--chest and head, throat and temple. Groin. The lesson corresponded perfectly with our lesson from anatomy class, since we'd studied Arcadians there. They were vulnerable where humans were vulnerable, except their airways were located in different places.

  As Ryan demonstrated the moves, there was a fluid grace to him that I'd never seen with another man. He almost looked like a dancer.

  Finally he had us stand up and do the moves ourselves. The first was a punch forward with open palm to either break a nose or slam into the breastbone, cutting off the Arcadian's air supply.

  Second, we learned a knee jerk and dive. We raised a knee, hard, then bent over, swooping our torsos in a wide half circle. The purpose, Ryan said, was to hurt our opponent, then avoid their strike of retaliation, which was sure to come.

  "Mimic my actions," he said, kicking, straightening, turning, and kicking again.
"Good, Kitten. Good, Jenn." He proceeded to congratulate everyone, his voice dripping with praise. Me, not so much. I got a "good," sure, but mine was muttered and he didn't say my name.

  Maybe he had forgotten.

  What the hell was going on with him?

  Was everyone else the teacher's pet and I was just the unwanted slug? I ground my teeth together. I kicked straight, just as he'd done, then twirled and kicked again, his face a target in my mind. The girls, too, kicked and punched, then kicked again. I hadn't worked out in a long time (not counting Mia's workout and Ryan's jogging session) and after the first hour my muscles began burning. I began sweating--again.

  Inside, I was cringing. Even though I was currently pissed off at Ryan, I didn't want him to see me like this. Truly, he'd only ever seen me at my worst. I mean, really. Not only was I sweating, but I was wearing the god-awful white pants and shirt every trainee was required to wear. And mine were a little too tight! Not good for a flat chest.

  Kitten had taken--and needed--the larger clothing. Her breasts and hips were bigger than mine, a fact that would have made me jealous if Kitten weren't such a nice person.

  "I need a volunteer," Ryan said, "to demonstrate the next move."

  All the girls held up their hands. Except Emma, the tattooed one who hated all of us, and me, of course. Ryan still wouldn't look at me, and I wouldn't degrade myself by showing how eager I was to let him put his hands on me.

  Deep down, though, I knew I'd like it--his hands on me, that is.

  "Phoenix."

  Hearing my name from him gave me an odd little shiver. I blinked in surprise. "Yeah?"

  "Get up here." He waved me over, still looking anywhere but me.

  "Lucky," Dani moaned.

  My surprise intensifying, I walked slowly toward him. Each of my steps was measured, unsure. I couldn't help but wonder, why me? I mean, he still wouldn't glance in my direction. Oh, wait, I thought, frowning. He'd promised to be hard on us. He probably meant to pound me into the ground while "demonstrating."

  No way. No damn way. I popped my jaw, an action born of irritation and one I'd done a lot more lately, and quickened my step. He wouldn't find amusement at my expense.

  When I was within reaching distance, he clasped onto my shoulders and spun me around so that I faced the girls. Just as I'd known I would, I liked it. I liked his hands on me. They were big and warm and calloused, almost like a live wire. I could feel the heat of him seeping into me.

  The girls' expressions ranged from envious to amused to wicked and back to envious. Ryan's body nearly touched mine, chest to back, but he maintained a safe distance away.

  I'd been with guys, so intimacy was no stranger to me. But I'd been with them for all the wrong reasons. Curiosity. Lying to myself, thinking it was what I needed to do to feel good about who and what I was. Craving affection I couldn't seem to find anywhere else. Now, this time, I wanted a boy to hold me because of who he was.

  Why couldn't I have been attracted to a student?

  Ryan stepped closer, his body brushing mine. He was so close, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, caressing. Goose bumps beaded over my skin. He squeezed my shoulders before wrapping his hands around my neck.

  My eyes widened, and I gasped. The sensual haze that had trapped me finally dissipated. "What are you doing?"

  He didn't release me, but squeezed harder. Not enough to cut off my air, but enough to consume my attention. "If an Arcadian grabs you from behind, how will you escape from him?"

  Kitten raised her hand. "I know, I know!" Her golden cat's eyes practically glittered with eagerness.

  Ryan motioned with his chin for her to continue, and his nose tickled the top of my head. I was battling a need to struggle, not to struggle, and to look cool and to prove myself. He wasn't hurting me, but he could at any moment.

  "Kick backward and try to hit his balls."

  Despite the situation, I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. The thought of kicking Ryan in the balls and dropping him to his knees was as appealing as it was appalling.

  "That might work, as long as you do it calmly rather than in a panic and as long as he doesn't keep his body away from you, which is a possibility. Panic will fog your mind and quash your objective. You will miss your target every time and fail to realize key details, like the placement of the attacker's body." As he spoke, he traced his thumbs over my pulse points.

  I shivered and tried to mask it with a cough. My cheeks flushed. No boy had ever touched me like this, as if I were a treasure of some sort. And that it was Ryan doing so...I licked my lips. Maybe I'd misread the situation. Maybe he wasn't mad at me, after all.

  "Your new motto is: Whatever means necessary," he said. "Say it with me: Whatever means necessary."

  We did.

  "Good. Again."

  We repeated it a second time.

  "There are several things you can do," he added. "First, however, you should scream--if possible--so that he'll hopefully remove one of his hands from your neck to cover your mouth. Also, screaming might bring you aid and alert your teammates to your whereabouts."

  Good idea. I opened my mouth to scream, but Ryan laughed. "Not yet," he said.

  I pressed my lips together.

  "Won't screaming draw civilians and perhaps get them killed?" Cara asked.

  "If it's your only resort, it's a chance you'll have to take," Ryan replied. "The good news is, a civilian could also work as a distraction, giving you the opportunity you need to free yourself and kill the alien, which is your ultimate objective."

  "But, what if screaming doesn't work?" Johanna asked.

  Cara nodded. "Yeah, I mean, some Outers won't care if you draw attention. They might even like it."

  "If he doesn't release you with one hand to cover your mouth, elbow him in the breastbone with all of your strength. Remember, that's where an Arcadian's main airway is located."

  "And if that doesn't work?" Kitten said.

  "Stomp his instep and stomp hard. Stomp repeatedly if you must, but stomp fast. Pinch his thigh, drawl blood. Tug on his hair. Time is your enemy in this position and you must get him to loosen his hold as soon as possible. Hurt him and he'll let go, giving you the opportunity to turn and punch."

  The girls nodded, awed, rapt.

  Ryan didn't remove his hands from my neck, but increased the pressure. "Now," he said.

  "What?" I gasped out. He still wasn't hurting me, but the extra force was frightening.

  "Break free," he commanded me.

  I tried to laugh, but couldn't quite manage it. The girls watched us with worried expressions. "You want me to fight you?"

  "Break free," he said again, this time with more force. He squeezed harder, and this time it hurt. "I heard you passed your drug test," he whispered, his breath caressing my ear. "Congrats."

  Thanks for the reminder that I'm the drug addict here. "I won't get in trouble for hurting you?" I wheezed, having trouble drawing in a breath.

  "You can't hurt me. Now fight, damn it, before you pass out."

  I wasn't going to pass out. No way. After I'd helped Ryan fight the Sybilins, he--more than anyone--should have had more faith in my abilities. "I'm not sure I can," I managed to gasp out, playing the nervous little girl. "You're hurting me."

  His hold loosened. "You can, Phoenix. You just need--"

  While he spoke, I acted. And I acted hard, just like he'd said. Whatever means necessary. I didn't hold back. Draw blood? My pleasure. I propelled my elbow into his stomach. Air whooshed from him, and he doubled over. His hands loosened even more.

  I'd probably just aced the test with that move, but I pinched his thigh, anyway. As he howled, I slammed my foot into his instep.

  Pivoting on my heel, I turned around and slugged him in the nose. His head whipped to the side. My knuckles throbbed, still bruised from the pounding I'd given the Sybilins.

  I stood there, panting and facing my instructor, triumph washing through me. A trickle of bloo
d dripped from his nose. Test complete. I'd escaped.

  Slowly Ryan righted himself and faced me. His blue eyes were practically glowing as he wiped away the blood with the back of his hand. His lips twitched.

  "I broke free," I said, chin raised, "by whatever means necessary."

  "So you did," he returned, and there was a pleased edge to the words.

  Behind us, Kitten clapped and whooped. "That's my girl!"

  Ryan smiled fully. "If I was giving a grade today, you'd get an A for kicking my ass."

  "Lucky," Dani said again.

  "Thank you," I said, proud of myself. The throb in my hand increased with every second that passed, but it was worth it.

  Suddenly Ryan's eyes narrowed. Something dark flashed inside them, something dangerous. I blinked, certain I was mistaken. I hadn't done or said anything to warrant that kind of reaction.

  "You did that a little too well," he said. "Anyone ever tried to choke you before?"

  Worried? About me? How sweet! Exasperation drained from me, and pleasure took its place. "No. That was a first." And an experience I'd rather not repeat.

  Bit by bit, his expression softened. "Well, you did great."

  I smiled over at him. His gaze dropped to my mouth. Heat infused his expression this time, and he took a step toward me. Did he...did he want to kiss me? The very thought excited me. His lips on mine...his taste in my mouth.... He seemed to catch himself, though, and froze for a split second. He inched backward.

  "Get back in line," he commanded stiffly.

  He was changing moods faster than I could keep up. What had brought on the sudden change this time? "Ryan," I said.

  "In line, Germaine," he snapped.

  Unmoving, I frowned at him.

  "Line. Now."

  Shaking my head at his behavior, I spun around and claimed my place at the wall. Cara was peering over at me, her expression weird.

  What? I mouthed. I didn't need crap from her, too.

  Nothing, she mouthed back and turned away.

  I nudged her with my shoulder. What?

  Her dark brows arched, and I could tell she was trying to hold back a grin. I thought he was just okay.

  My eyes slitted. Whatever.

  Ryan cleared his throat, then launched into a lecture about everything I'd done right and a few things I could have done better. Like hitting his throat or his temple for maximum damage instead of hitting his nose.

  After that, he explained what we would be learning in his class for the rest of the year, fighting skills that would correlate with our alien anatomy class. "In the end, you'll be able to fight anyone and anything. You'll be able to kill with your bare hands."