Payton (Dreamcatchers Romantic Suspense Series Book 3)

by Jamie Garrett

  When he’d been a kid, going to the gym for the first time, his chest would heave, his whole body burning after just a few minutes. After years of constant practice, Cole pushed past that and perfected his physique. The incident had taken all of that away. Ever since it happened, he could barely look into someone’s eyes in that gym without a flashback threatening to break through. They were distractions, at least, that could keep him from focusing on the way his muscles were screaming. He set the bar back and let his arms drop.

  The entire gym was buzzing with adolescent fervor when a small woman walked in. She looked like a porcelain doll that had been thrown around by a little boy, a scar covering her forehead.

  For a second, she looked at him, and then she went over to the desk where Aaron was manning the register. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m here for Krav Maga.”

  “Did you register? Starter class costs $60 a month. Show up as many times as you want.”

  She handed him the money. “You have any other self-defense programs?” She had her back turned, and Cole noticed how nicely rounded her ass was. What the fuck? He hadn’t felt even a passing attraction to a woman in months, not since that night. Who was this woman?

  “Yeah, but it’s all filled up right now.”

  “Too bad.”

  Her eyes quickly darted to where Cole was sitting and back again. It was a calculated movement, like a soldier assessing the battlefield, something that was uncharacteristic of such a small woman. He would have called her adorable if it weren’t for the intense aura that was blasting forth all around her.

  There were sadness and fear, but also an endearing determination—something that told Cole that this woman could accomplish anything through the force of her will alone. It had been a long time since he’d felt like that. The question was, what had happened to put that fear in her eyes and how had she managed to beat it back? He had to know.

  5

  Payton had never had much of a hobby, let alone one she took seriously. Just like the rest of her life, they were things you might dabble with, do once or twice, before you moved on to the next necessity. Besides, she’d moved too many times to bother with taking any of that associated crap with her. With the possibility of danger practically lurking around every corner, it was time to focus.

  Until she’d been bound and helpless in a basement, Payton hadn’t realized just how much she still wanted to get out of life. Not that she was after the picket fence and 2.5 kids. That would never be her. But that didn’t mean life wasn’t worth it.

  Lying there on the floor, between the nausea and groggy haze of whatever the fuck they had been pumping into her veins, all she’d felt was fear. But at first with the literal miles she put between Chicago and herself, and now with every step toward a new life—one where she might stay for longer than a few months this time—something else was growing inside her. Not hope. Payton was sure she hadn’t felt that particular emotion since it was bashed out of her in childhood.

  But still, whatever it was, it was there and driving her just that little bit. It had her staying there, learning how to stand up for herself, and not running at the first whiff of trouble. It was going to be one of the most difficult things she had ever done. Even now, the fear was pushing back into her mind. It was almost overwhelming.

  Almost.

  But it had to be done.

  By the time the alarm sounded on her prepaid phone the next morning, disrupting the quiet air around her, Payton was already up and walking around. The air outside was wet but not too cold, and rushed past in a soft wave through the parking lot and down the beach. The sand was hard enough that it didn’t give way, but soft enough that she had to work to keep up a brisk pace as she began her morning run.

  The ocean was pounding, with waves more than a few feet high slamming against the shore. The noise was a soothing symphony that helped her keep her mind blank.

  It was too early for many to be out, so the beach was empty, but the quiet was a facade for the fear that was steadily growing again in her gut. The night before, she’d been so sure, so determined. But out in the open again, fear easily took its place. It came far too easily the previous two days for Payton’s liking, slamming into her when she least expected it. Whenever she thought she’d finally gotten a handle on her thoughts, everything would flood right back in.

  Her eyes darted across the empty vista in front of her. Nothing but sand and a few gulls. Still, those people could pop out at any time, and there wouldn’t be any witnesses when they slit her throat and let her blood run into the water, washing away any sign that she had ever existed at all.

  A mental flash of the bald man running behind her with the woman closely following, ready to abduct her at any time, drove Payton’s feet to move faster, and her heart raced. Her lifestyle had always kept her relatively fit, but running through the sand like the devil was on her heels was brutal. Sweat was dripping down her brow and her legs felt as though they’d collapse under the weight of a single step, but she kept going. That was the only way she would ever get anywhere. If Payton couldn’t swallow the pain, she certainly would never be able to fight anyone off when they came for her.

  After more than an hour, she started to feel weak and her stomach was churning. She finally stopped moving just a few feet from the gym she discovered the day before. There was a tiny coffee shop/juice bar combination right next door to the building that housed her class. It would be the perfect place to get something nourishing before the session started that morning. Besides, thanks to her early morning, she had a little time to kill.

  The tiny shop had the style of an old, abandoned building converted into a hipster sanctuary with metal stools near the raw-wood bar, and booths made with cushy brown leather seats. The ambiance didn’t matter to Payton, but there were seats in the back facing the front door and that gave her a little security. She didn’t want to sit anywhere near where someone could sneak up behind her. Not anymore.

  A cute young blonde came out from behind the counter as soon as she walked in. “Oh, uh, hello.” The woman seemed a little unsettled when they met eyes.

  “Hi.” Payton stuck on the perfect smile while she stared at the menu.

  “What can I get you?”

  “I think I’ll just have a whole-grain bagel and a small coffee.”

  “Okay.” The woman turned around to make the coffee, and Payton swore her hand shook, just a little bit. The action reminded her of her own emotional swings that morning. Looks like it was a bad day already for everyone.

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “No, thank you.” Payton paid her, took her food, and sat down. The girl lingered at the front, wiping the counter and cleaning the machines. Her eyes kept darting over to where Payton was sitting.

  “How’s your morning going?”

  “Alright.”

  “You heading to the gym?” The woman had dropped all pretence of cleaning and was leaning over the bar.

  “Yeah.”

  “I hear they’re starting up classes again today.”

  “That’s why I’m going.” Payton walked over to the bar and sat down. “Krav Maga, and I’m kind of excited to try it out.”

  The girl nodded her head. “Some of the guys at the gym talk about it. It’s pretty popular.”

  “Have you heard anything about the instructor?” She probably should have researched that before she shelled out sixty dollars. Too late now. Payton only hoped this wasn’t going to be colossal waste of time.

  “You’ll like him. He gets a lot of respect from people around here.”

  “Great.” Payton finished her coffee, glanced at the clock above the door, and then ran to the door. “Thanks,” she called back.

  There was a cluster of men already chatting in the corner of the gym when Payton got there. Most of them looked like they had criminal records and as soon as she walked in, they looked her way and started passing around an array of vulgar remarks. A particularly pathetic sack
of meat wearing a tank top and gray sweatpants swaggered over and leaned against the counter where she was standing.

  “Want some of this?” he asked, grabbing his crotch.

  “Hey!” A man standing at the counter walked around and got between Payton and her potential assailant. “You wanna fuck off?” He cocked his head to the side and leaned forward like he was going to hit the guy.

  The creep ran back to the corner, where the other thugs were laughing at him.

  “Thank you.” Payton looked over the man who had helped her. His short black hair was graying and had been curled over to the side, and when he turned around, his muscles bulged out of his red tank top.

  “No problem. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Payton. What’s yours?”

  “Rico. That’s my name on the door.”

  “So you own this place?”

  “Used to, until I sold it to Aaron a few years ago. I still help out, though”—he gestured toward the group still standing by the corner—“try to keep those bastards in line. What do you think of the place?”

  There was unfamiliar equipment lining the wall. “It’s great. I just don’t know what to do with any of this stuff.”

  “That’s no problem. I can show you around.” Rico led her over to the back wall where there were shelves of free weights. Payton picked a ten-pound weight and started lifting it. “Whoa. Whoa. Here.” Rico took the weight and set it down. “Sit down over there.” He pointed to a long bench that jutted out from the wall, and she sat down. “Good. Now open your legs.” He cracked a smile.

  “Okay.” She opened them, and he handed her a weight.

  “Set it down on the ground for now. What I want you to do is keep your shoulder straight when you lift with it, and don’t move out of that position. Otherwise, you won’t be working the right muscles. Here,”—he kept his hand on her shoulder to hold it in place—“now lift.”

  The weight was heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn’t lift it.

  “Good. Keep at it, and ask me or Aaron if you need any assistance.”

  “Where’s the Krav Maga class?” Payton asked before he walked away.

  “In the room with the mats. Are you enrolled already?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Aaron will be your instructor.”

  “Thanks.” Payton kept lifting, ignoring the burn building in her shoulder and bicep.

  I can do this.

  When her arm curled up again, her mind played on a loop the vision of the blonde woman with a knife, and the burn fell away. Doing this would mean the difference between living and dying and that was all that mattered to her now. Payton’s eyes drifted to the wall, the perfect place to focus, where the pain could sink away. Even when her arm felt like a raging volcano and her movements turned jerky, she just pushed through with her focus homed in on the wall. The wall was all that existed. The wall was her reality, and going there meant leaving the pain behind.

  Old P. E. lectures started to come back, things that her teachers had said. She knew that she needed to complete the rep the entire way each time for her efforts to be of maximum benefit. There was the fact that she had to rest at certain points in order for her workout to be successful. It still wasn’t enough.

  When those people had taken her, and even now, Payton had not a single clue who they were or what they wanted her for. She only knew that they wanted her, specifically. She was sure of that now. Information would be one of her most valuable resources. The training would be the catalyst, but figuring out what the fuck was going on would be the key.

  A rushed energy in the room pulled her out of her trance and signaled that her class was starting. A tall man walked to the center of the room and called out, “Krav Maga!” Everyone lined up in front of him, Payton rushing to take the last spot in line.

  “Welcome to Krav Maga day one!” he looked around at everyone and Payton noticed he made eye contact with every person in the line. She dropped her eyes to the floor when it was her turn—no way was she ready yet to lock eyes with a guy nearly a foot taller than she was—but she could still feel his gaze sweeping over her.

  “You’re very lucky to be here. Rico’s is one of the best gyms in the area.” He nodded to Rico, who had propped himself up against the counter near the door. “Developed first for the Israeli Defense Force, Krav Maga today is a unique system of hand-to-hand combat and self defense. Unlike some forms of martial arts, Krav Maga can be picked up in a matter of months, rather than years. Beginners can quickly learn the skills they need to both protect themselves and escape danger quickly.

  “Krav Maga is made up of different modern fighting skills, moves that you can learn to defend yourself in a real fight. There’s no break dancing or funny poses. Everything you are going to learn is practical, and you can use it on the streets.” He looked back at the register. “Hey, Rico!” Rico ran to Aaron’s side, wearing wraps around his wrists. “I’m going to show you an example of what a Krav Maga fight looks like.”

  Rico fist flew at him, but Aaron stepped back just as quickly. “You will be learning to dodge.” He put his hands in front of his face with his arms close to his stomach, and Rico did the same. Their arms moved so fast that they started to get blurry. Every time Rico punched, Aaron blocked it and countered fiercely. They finally stopped and Aaron spoke again.

  “Your aim is to dominate and incapacitate your attacker as quickly as possible. We’re not playing nice here. On the streets, your job is to injure an attacker to the point they can no longer continue. It’s you or them out there, and it’ll be you against the world here.”

  Rico walked back to the register. “Now,”—Aaron let his eyes drift over them again—“I’ll start the class by teaching you basic forms, but first, the advanced students can head into the back room and practice the drills.” Several men ran back behind him, grabbing gear near the door. “Great. Now, I want all of you to go ahead and breathe, let everything roll out of you.” Payton’s eyes slowly drifted closed as she breathed and she forced them open. No way was she ever closing her eyes with someone else in the room again. Aaron continued. “I want you to go ahead and focus on the wall straight ahead. Let that be your guide. Don’t focus on me.”

  The wall was the only thing that mattered.

  “Next, I want you to go ahead and put your feet out so that you are standing with them shoulder-width apart.”

  She saw how he did it out the corner of her eye, with one foot slanted slightly to the side.

  “Perfect.” The sound of the men sparring in the other room was starting to drown out Aaron’s voice. The door was open, revealing the entire group going after one man, who was fighting them off masterfully.

  Aaron cleared his throat and moved back to close the door so she couldn’t see them. “As I was saying, there are long, medium, and short fighting ranges in Krav Maga. Your weapon is your body, so your short-range weapons are your punches. We will begin by learning the first punch, which is the straight punch. You put your hands in front of your face.” He took a standard boxing pose. “Keep one leg bent slightly, go in, and punch.” He stopped midway through. “You want to keep your arm slightly bent when you make impact. But,”—he smiled—“you won’t be making an actual impact for awhile.” His eyes met Payton’s, forcing her attention back to the class.

  “Now, I’m going have each of you try the punch. Put your arms up like this.” He bent his leg and Payton followed suit. “Then I want you to throw your arm out straight, leaving your elbow bent.” He yelled out when he threw the punch, and as everyone followed along, they sounded off. “Now this is a simple technique, but there’s a way to do it. Payton, is it? I noticed that you bent your leg a little too much.” He walked over. “Go into position again.”

  “Like this?” She tried to mimic Aaron’s earlier pose.

  “Almost, but straighten your back and let your leg up.” Payton straitened her spine and moved. “Perfect.” He went back to help the others with their poses.


  Keeping her eyes straight and her posture perfect, Payton used that chance to practice her punch, letting her fists fly out, imagining herself beating into a pile of oozing flesh the man who had taken her.

  “Great.” Aaron was behind her, and when she heard him, she turned around and nearly punched him in the face.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He laughed. “I let you get that close.” She turned back around as he walked to the front of the class, but she was distracted by the sight of a man walking in. His brown hair was on the longer side, and though he smiled in greeting at Aaron, he had a look in his eyes that said something else. Payton knew that look. She saw it reflected back in the mirror ever since she was snatched off the street.

  “Payton?” Aaron was standing in the middle of the room, looking at her.

  “Yes, Instructor.” The term slipped out. It was the only response she thought appropriate.

  “Welcome back. Alright, I’m gonna show you the kick again, but this time I want you to actually listen, okay?” Some of the men to her right snickered, but Payton was too focused on the man walking in with the melee group. Aaron cleared his throat and looked pointedly at her.

  “Okay,” she responded after the man entered the back room with the advanced class.

  “Great. Now, I want you to stand in position.” He waited while she did. “Then I want you to stand on the ball of your right foot. After that, I want you to bring your knee up and throw your kick out.”

  She let it out, and threw her leg up. It was a raw, beautiful force—an addictive sensation.

  “Wonderful. That is called the groin kick.” Some of the men snickered and Payton couldn’t hold back a smile. “As I’m sure all of you know, this can be a particularly effective move.” Aaron began moving down the line, making small adjustments to some people’s form. When he got to Payton, she was still kicking.