“You won’t. I want you to see how easy it is for a serious assailant to counter your move and take control.”
His superiority infuriated her, and she grabbed the little finger of his left hand. Instantly, his other hand gripped her wrist, exerting pressure until she could no longer feel her fingers. Then he stepped in close, pushed her back until she lost her balance, and she went down flat on her back with Joe pressing his knee against her rib cage.
“Now, if my intent was to rape you or extract information, I’d show you my knife, maybe make you bleed a little, and you’d do anything I wanted. If I came to kill you, you’re already dead.”
Her breath came faster, and her whole body trembled as bad memories swirled in her mind. Joe’s eyes met hers, and then his gaze went to the scars on her neck. Heat rose in her face as humiliation swept over her.
His hand reached out, almost touching her face, before he stopped and a scowl hardened his expression. He rose abruptly and yanked her up. “You can use the same principles to defend yourself.” Anger was suppressed in his voice.
“But you’re bigger and stronger. How am I supposed to knock you down?” She didn’t know what had angered him, but she pushed through her embarrassment to focus on what he was trying to teach her.
“Surprise and speed and follow-through. All you have to do is get your assailant off balance. Gravity does the rest. Are you ready to try?”
While he was still waiting for her response, she grabbed him, stepped close, positioning her leg behind his, and the next thing she knew he hit the mat hard with her perched on his chest. Was it really that easy, or had he given her this one?
“No fair. I wasn’t ready.” His eyes glinted dangerously. “One more thing, Cara. Always follow through. If you’re going to kill me, do it quick. If you want to run, don’t hesitate. If you wait around too long”—his hands suddenly grabbed her around the waist as he rolled to the right, pinning her beneath him—“you’ll lose your advantage.”
She grunted as he came down on top of her. “I’ll remember that. Give me a knife next time.”
“Not until you’ve had proper instruction. I’d rather my untimely demise wasn’t by your hand.” He held her gaze, just inches away from her face.
Heat rose to her cheeks. “Let me up.” She pushed against him, but he might as well have been a concrete block.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re forgetting… the one who ends up on top gets to dictate the terms of surrender.”
“I’m not surrendering.” She slapped her hands against his chest only to have him capture both of her wrists in one hand. “Rayna is watching.”
“Why would I care if Rayna sees us training?”
“Because something like this could make her more jealous.”
“Jealous?” He got to his feet and helped her up. “Rayna is like a sister to me.”
“Then why does she hate me?”
“She doesn’t—not really. She’s just confused right now.” He watched her. “Her last name is Dugan.”
Cara inhaled sharply. “Oh Joe, not Charlie’s sister. No wonder she hates me. I don’t blame her. Does she know it’s my fault he’s dead?”
Joe grabbed her arm and swung her to face him. “It wasn’t your fault, and Rayna will come to realize that. Just give her some time. She’s a good kid.”
Cara’s gaze went to the corner mat where Rayna had been. She sat against the wall with a small group of men, laughing at something someone said. Why hadn’t Cara seen the resemblance? It was uncanny how much Rayna looked like Charlie. Thinking about him made her eyes burn with unshed tears. “Why did Charlie have to die? He had so much to live for.” The misery tightening her chest choked the words until they were barely a whisper.
Joe’s gaze lingered on her face. “Were you in love with him?”
She shook her head to clear it of memories. “No, but he was a good friend, even though I guess it was all make-believe.” Was she telling him the truth? Her feelings for Charlie were all confused and buried in grief. She’d probably never know.
“The way he felt about you wasn’t a lie. I’ve known Charlie all my life, and he changed after he met you. I was actually jealous he’d found someone who made him want to settle down and get out of this kind of life.”
She was suddenly furious—with Brian, with Charlie, even with Joe. It was so unfair. Scathing remarks swirled in her mind, but she rejected them all because Charlie’s memory deserved better than that. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
She stared into his eyes. “What’s next?”
Over the next two hours, Joe taught her to deliver an elbow to the gut in a way that would force an attacker to release her and fight for air. She learned to use her head as a weapon when her hands were bound or pinned down and to deliver a kick to the knee that would keep an assailant from giving chase. He showed her where pressure points were in the wrist, in the elbow, and behind the ear and how to break a nose with the side of her fist. He was a patient and thorough instructor, yet Cara knew they’d only scratched the surface of what she needed to learn.
By the time he called a halt to the session, she was breathing hard and taking longer to get up. She was exhausted and weak from little food, but she didn’t want to stop. “What’s next?” She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face.
“Target practice. Follow me.”
The firing range was indoors, underground, beneath a building made to look like a barn. Joe pressed a hidden button that opened a heavy, steel-reinforced trapdoor to reveal a staircase leading down. He told Dillon to wait outside.
Once downstairs, he led them to a room where dozens of handguns were displayed on a wall. She looked at him in amazement.
He shrugged. “You can never be too prepared. Pick one.”
Cara was comfortable here. Brian and she practically grew up with guns in their hands, spending all their spare time at their father’s firing range. Her father started Sinclair Arms Distributing before she was born, and as soon as they were old enough, he taught them to shoot.
She found her weapon of choice about halfway down the wall—an HK 9mm, semiautomatic. She took it down to see how it felt in her hand. Joe pulled two clips from the drawer below it and handed one to her. It slid into place smoothly, the familiar sound strangely comforting.
He led her to one of six shooting stations and affixed a target—the black image of a man’s head and torso—on the electronic target system. He moved it into position twenty-five yards away, handed her hearing protection headgear and took a set for himself, then stepped back behind her. It was second nature to block out his presence and focus on the target.
She emptied the clip then hit the lever to bring the target back. Every shot hit the center of the chest, tearing a large hole in the paper man.
Joe didn’t say a word, just replaced the target, moved it out to thirty-five yards, and handed her a full clip. “Head shots this time.”
Cara emptied the clip again. The head was completely gone. Joe didn’t bother to retrieve the target. She handed him the headgear, but when she tried to give him the gun, he shook his head.
“Hang on to that. I’ll get you some ammo. I’m curious, though. If you’re that good with a gun, didn’t you ever think about just shooting Dennelli and getting the hell out of the country?”
“A million times. I used to pretend it was his face on that target and blow his head off every day.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Two reasons. I’d have to take out the whole family to ever be safe, and I knew if I failed, that would be it. He’d kill me. It wasn’t until that last time he put me in the hospital… after he carved up my back… I decided death was preferable to a life of fear and abuse.” Her voice sounded hollow to her ears. “Someday, when he’s tired of making idle threats, he’ll come. I’ll be ready.”
Joe frowned.
He’d made it very clear he wanted a part in that, even though she was equally determined he wouldn’t be invo
lved. She thought he’d argue, but he let it go. Even so, she was left with the impression Joe would do whatever he wanted, regardless of what she said.
Chapter Twelve
* * *
Sunday, 6:30 pm
BY MIDAFTERNOON, CARA’S arms ached. When Joe finally said they were done for the day, she could barely move. A long, hot shower helped ease the stiffness, but it was still difficult to walk without hurting somewhere. As she limped toward the dining hall, the two men who ran interference for her this morning with Rayna caught up with her and slowed to walk beside her.
“Name’s Steve.” The taller of the two, lithe and muscular with dark brown hair graying slightly at the temples and a ready smile, shook her hand.
“I’m Jim.” He was stocky and solid with huge hands and laugh lines around his eyes. “Great job on the firing range today.”
“Thanks.” She frowned. How did they know? She and Joe were the only ones on the firing range at the time. As they walked through the door to the dining hall, she spotted her targets mounted on the wall above the sideboard where everyone could see them as they served up their food.
Embarrassment formed a knot in her stomach as she looked around the room for Joe. There he was, talking with Tyler. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze met hers, and he gave her a crooked grin. In exasperation, Cara turned away, but a thread of pride astonished her, and she straightened, tilting her chin up.
Tyler stood, clanged on the side of his beer bottle with a spoon, and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen… we’re recognizing Cara Sinclair tonight for her perfect scores on the firing range today. Cara, I’m glad you’re on our side, and I hope I never piss you off when you have a gun in your hand.”
Everyone laughed and clapped, as Jim and Steve seated her at the head of the table and served her a plate piled high with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a green salad with ranch dressing. Then they took seats on either side of her and pelted her with questions about how she learned to shoot so well. Surprisingly at ease around them, she had no difficulty sharing what it had been like growing up as the daughter of an arms dealer. Some of the other guys came by just to slap her on the back or issue a friendly challenge. They laughed and joked and were easy to talk to. She enjoyed herself. Just like that, she was accepted into their little band of brothers.
By everyone except Rayna.
The young woman stood in front of the sideboard with a plate half full of food, fury contorting her face. When Cara stood and turned toward her, she slammed her plate on the table, splattering food on the people closest to her.
“You’re good at twenty-five yards.” She stepped toward Cara. “How are you up close and personal?”
To her left, Joe scowled as he prepared to stand, and Cara held a hand up to stop him, never taking her eyes off Rayna. Maybe she should be more afraid, but as far as she was concerned, anything Rayna could do to her was deserved. Tyler started toward them, and Joe put a restraining hand on his arm.
Rayna stopped inches from Cara’s face, eyes wild and nostrils flaring, but Cara no longer saw the angry young woman. She saw Charlie’s kid sister.
“Charlie talked about you all the time. He couldn’t believe his baby sister was going to UCLA and wanted to be a doctor. He was so proud of you.”
Rayna backed up a step, clearly confused when Cara didn’t react to her anger in kind. Everyone else stopped, some with forks halfway to their mouths, to watch the show.
“Shut up about him,” Rayna cried.
“I don’t blame you for hating me. Charlie deserved better than me, and he deserved better than what my brother did to him.”
“I don’t need your permission to hate you.”
“I know. If you want your revenge right now, no one in this room is going to stop you.” Cara glanced at Joe. He scowled again but stayed put. “Or you can wait until after my brother gets what he deserves, and then you can do whatever you want to me.”
Confusion flitted across Rayna’s features as tears rimmed her eyes, but she drew herself up straight and glared at Cara. “Later, then.” She turned and stalked from the room.
Cara breathed a sigh of relief as Joe followed Rayna out. Surely he wouldn’t be too hard on her. He, of all people, understood how badly Rayna was hurting. Cara looked at the other faces at the tables, all eyes still on her.
She shrugged, smiling wistfully. “I have that effect on a lot of people.”
Some chuckled. Some grumbled about Rayna’s foul humor giving them indigestion. Everyone eventually went back to eating. Cara looked skeptically at the salad on her plate. She had to eat something. Hunger had gnawed at her stomach all afternoon. Her small breakfast was the first meal she’d had since the day before yesterday. Or was it the day before that? She couldn’t remember. Her appetite had disappeared with Rayna, but she forced herself to eat the chicken, the salad, and a few bites of potatoes buried in gravy. Hopefully, Irene wouldn’t ask how she’d enjoyed her meal, so Cara wouldn’t have to lie.
Most of the men made a point to speak to her or shake her hand as they left the dining hall for the evening. Though she reveled in her newfound sense of belonging, she fully understood why Joe had hung her targets and made a big production. He knew she’d be more likely to stay if she didn’t feel like an outsider. She even appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was getting tired of him being right all the time.
Tyler walked her upstairs, bombarding her with a constant flow of small talk until he glanced sideways at her when she didn’t reply to one of his questions quickly enough. “Sorry. You’re still… uh… she’ll come around, you know.”
“Will she?”
He nodded. “Give it some time.”
“That seems to be the standard recommendation. I just hate to see her hurting.”
“You’re a good person. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll call it a night. I’m not used to so much physical activity.”
“I thought you looked a little stiff.”
“I just need to get some rest.”
He left her at the door.
She hadn’t been entirely truthful with Tyler. The longer she sat at dinner, the stiffer her muscles became. Walking the two flights of stairs to her room was excruciating. How was she going to get up in the morning, much less do what Joe would no doubt ask of her? She should have gotten some ice from the kitchen before going to her room. Navigating those stairs again tonight was out of the question.
Hoping a good long soak would help, she drew a bath. She was pleasantly surprised to find fragrant bath beads in the linen closet and dissolved a few in the hot water as she offered a silent thank-you to Irene. She settled in the tub with The Deep Dark, a hardback book she found on a shelf in her room. Absorbed in her reading, the tapping on her bathroom door startled her. She jumped and almost dropped her book in the bathwater.
“Cara, are you okay?” It was Joe.
“What is it with you and closed doors? They’re meant to keep people out, you know.”
“Well, if you don’t want me to come in there, you probably better come out here.”
“Oh, good grief.” She moaned, grumbling to herself as she towel dried and slipped into her robe. When she opened the door, he was lounging on her bed.
“Well, by all means, make yourself at home.” She jammed her hands on her hips.
“Thanks. I will.” He studied her with amusement.
She sighed in frustration. “What is it that can’t wait until morning?”
“I brought you a present.” He held up a thin, white tube.
“And that is?”
“You’re going to be sore, if you’re not already. This will help.” He sat up, offering her the tube.
For a brief moment, Cara thought of denying she was in pain until she realized she hurt too much to pretend. She edged closer and reached for the tube. When her
hand closed around it and tugged, he didn’t let go. His resistance caught her by surprise. Off balance, she braced her other hand against his chest to keep from falling onto him.
She drew a sharp breath, the electricity vibrating between them. Joe’s hand caught her waist to steady her. His grin taunted.
“Be happy to rub this in for you.”
She pushed herself away from him and jerked the tube from his hand. “I haven’t seen any pigs flying around here.”
“I’m guessing that’s a no.”
He sounded every bit a little boy, disappointed he wasn’t getting what he wanted, but when she shot him a glance, laughter shone from his eyes and he flashed his lopsided grin.
“Is Rayna okay?”
“She will be. You got through to her a little bit tonight. She’ll never admit it, of course. She has to save face… but she’ll come around.”
“So I’m told.”
When she glanced at him again, his expression shocked her with its intensity, his golden-brown eyes dark and sensual as his gaze played over her robed figure. As her eyes met his, something inside her softened, and she barely resisted the urgent need to go to him, touch him. She tore her eyes away instead.
“Get some sleep, Cara. Morning comes early around here.”
Joe left through the balcony doors. The room seemed empty without his larger-than-life presence.
As she rubbed the ointment liberally on her sore muscles, she contemplated the man whose self-appointed mission was to keep her safe. What kind of man put his life on the line for a woman he’d never met, because of a promise to a friend? It’d take an immense amount of integrity. How was she supposed to believe he was for real? Nothing in her experience gave any evidence commitment that strong even existed. If it did, however, and she was lucky enough to be on the receiving end, she’d be crazy not to take advantage.
Was she that selfish? Could she really use Joe to get free of David? Her integrity required she draw the line well short of that. As long as she was in Joe’s compound, he’d keep her safe. That was all she could ask. As soon as she left, David became her problem again.
All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel Page 10
