Reviving Izabel (In the Company of Killers) (Volume 2)

by J. A. Redmerski

  “You always manage to get the best housekeepers, that’s for sure,” I say, setting several of my bags down on the floor in the living room.

  “Not this time,” he says behind me. He sets the other bags from the car down next to the tawny-brown leather couch. “It’s just me.”

  “Really? But it’s so clean in here. I guess you haven’t been here long then?”

  “About four months.” He looks over at me. “Do you like it? I hope so since it is your new home.”

  A smile breaks in my face.

  He breaks apart the buttons of his dress shirt and takes it off, laying it over the back of a brown leather chair. Secretly, I take note of his physique as he walks toward a long, brightly-lit hallway with an arched entrance.

  I follow him.

  “Of course you know we won’t be here forever.” We enter a large bedroom. “But it’s home for now, at least.”

  He steps out of his pants and I’m trying really hard not to watch him too intensely, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

  “Come here,” he says, standing before me in nothing but his tight black boxer briefs which are doing very little to hide the hard bulge growing behind the fabric.

  I swallow nervously, though why I’m nervous all of a sudden, I have no idea, and I walk toward him. A twinge spasms between my legs, and I’m not sure why of that, either. It’s as if my subconscious mind is more aware of what’s about to happen than my conscious one. Either that, or my mind is just running away from me with thoughts of what I only wish would happen.

  I look at him curiously, tilting my head gently to one side.

  “I’m not sure what this is between us,” he says carefully, “but I am sure that I don’t want it to stop. Whatever it is.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  A little confused about where this is heading, I tilt my head to the other side and ask, “Is something wrong?”

  He shakes his head subtly. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

  “Well…if you’re worried I’m going to fall in love with you and cling on to your every move, you don’t have to worry.”

  “You’re not in love with me?” he asks and it seems like nothing more than a simple inquiry.

  “No, I don’t love you, Victor.”

  He nods, completely accepting it. “Good. Because I’m not in love with you, either.”

  I don’t think either of us truly knows what the word means in this kind of situation. We both display the same accepting, yet somehow confused expressions.

  “But…I uh…,” I clasp my fingers together behind my back and look down at the tile floor, moving my foot about as if I were shuffling my toes nervously in sand. I stop and look him in the eyes. “But I uh would maybe…appreciate it if you didn’t sleep with anyone else. I…well, I don’t think I’d like that much.”

  “I agree,” he says with another solid nod. “I think if I caught you with another man, I would have to kill him.”

  I nod a few times, as casually as he had.

  “Definitely,” I say in return. “The same goes for you.”

  “Agreed.”

  There’s an awkward bout of silence between us and I glance over at the king-sized bed with tall cherry wood posts at all four corners, just feet away.

  I look back at Victor as he approaches me. I lift my arms above me when his fingers slide behind the ends of my shirt and he pulls it off.

  “I would also like to say that I don’t mind if you cling to my every move.” He fits his fingers behind the elastic of my panties. “For the record.”

  “Really?”

  He crouches down before me as he slides my panties over my hips and down my legs. He stays there, looking up at me, his head level with my bellybutton.

  “Yes,” he answers. “Of course, you can’t be getting in my way when I’m trying to do a job.”

  “Yes, of course,” I say and my skin reacts to his lips kissing the area just above my pelvic bone. “I-I would never get in the way of your job,” the words shudder from my lips. My hands begin to shake when he lowers himself between my legs, spreading my lips below with the pads of his thumbs.

  I move my legs apart just a little, enough to give him access.

  “But no leaving me in someplace far away while you travel everywhere to fulfill contracts,” I say, my fingers curling within the top of his hair, my breathing uneven and rapid. “I don’t want to be a stay-at-home wife, y’know what I mean?”

  A sharp gasp pierces the air around my mouth when the tip of his tongue flicks across my clit. I nearly wilt right here and now, the muscles in my thighs deteriorating with every passing second.

  “Yes, I am quite aware of the concept,” he says and then licks me again, dragging his tongue between my wet petals. I throw my head back and grasp his hair tighter, winding it within my fingers. “You’ll go wherever I go. So I can keep an eye on you.”

  “An eye on me. Of course.” It was a poor attempt at a response. All I can think about is his head between my legs and that hot, prickling sensation turning my insides into mush.

  Victor hoists me up with my ass planted firmly within both of his hands, my thighs wrapped around his head from the front and he licks me furiously for a moment before tossing me onto the bed on my back.

  With my thighs pushed toward me, his mouth falls between my legs and my eyes roll into the back of my head as he sends me into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sarai

  Training begins two days later, but it doesn’t start off the way I expected it to. I don’t know what I expected really, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask as we pull into the parking lot of a physical fitness and martial arts studio an hour away in Santa Fe.

  “Krav Maga,” he says and I just look at him as though he were speaking to me in another language. He shuts the car door and we walk toward the front of the building. “I won’t be able to devote one hundred percent of my time teaching you. So, three days a week I’m going to bring you here for some training. You can learn a lot in Krav Maga in a short time. And it focuses on self-defense—”

  “What?” I stop on the sidewalk just before we get to the front door. “I’m not a damsel in distress who just got robbed in a dark parking garage, Victor. I don’t need self-defense classes. I need to learn how to kill.”

  “Killing is the easy part,” he says matter-of-factly. He opens the glass door, gesturing me inside ahead of him. “Getting to that point without getting yourself killed in the process is the hard part.”

  I scoff. “So, you want me to learn how to kick a guy in the nuts? Trust me, I’m already perfectly capable of doing that.”

  A faint grin appears at the corners of his delicious lips.

  Just then, a tall dark-haired man with rolling muscles walks toward us through the vast room. Tall windows are set along the top of the wall, letting in the sunlight. Two separate groups of people are training in a turn-by-turn sequence, standing around in a half-circle atop an enormous black mat spread across a large section of the floor.

  The man with bulging arms underneath a black t-shirt offers his hand to Victor. “How long has it been? Three? Four years?”

  Victor shakes his hand firmly.

  “About four, I believe.”

  The man looks at me momentarily and then Victor introduces us.

  “Spencer, this is Izabel. Izabel, Spencer.”

  “A pleasure,” Spencer says, holding out his hand.

  Reluctantly, I shake it. They know each other? I’m not sure I like that or not. I suddenly feel like I’m being set up. I smile squeamishly up at the tall, good-natured brute.

  Victor turns to me and says, “There’s no one better to train you in self-defense than Spencer. You’re in good hands.”

  Spencer smiles so big I feel like if it were any bigger he might bite my head clean off my neck. He stands with his heavily-muscled arms down in front of him, his hands folded. The thick, ropy veins
running along his hands and up his darkly-tanned arms reminds me of a body builder, but he’s not quite as big as one. He’s just bigger than me, making him more intimidating.

  I put up a finger at Spencer. “Will you excuse us for a minute?”

  “Of course,” he says.

  I catch the quick grin he gives Victor.

  I grab Victor by the hand and pull him off to the side. In the background I hear the constant sound of bodies being thrown down on top of that black mat and the voice of an instructor harping repetitive commands and making the students ‘do it again’.

  “Victor, I think this is a waste of time. I don’t understand why you brought me here.” I cross my arms. “I want you to teach me these things, not some random guy the shape of a bus.” I look over my shoulder, hoping Spencer didn’t hear that, even though I made sure to keep it at a whisper.

  “I have to meet with Fredrik in an hour,” Victor says.

  “Oh, so you’re dropping me off with a babysitter?” Lines deepen around my eyes. I shake my head at him in total disbelief, not to mention, offense.

  “No, that’s not what this is about.”

  “But I want you to teach me,” I repeat, pushing the words harshly through my teeth.

  Victor sighs and shakes his head, appearing annoyed and frustrated with me.

  “You have no discipline,” he says. “None whatsoever. Just like my brother was.” That stings my pride. “How am I ever going to teach you anything when you can’t even do the simplest things that I ask of you?”

  Instantly, I regret acting like such a child.

  I let out a surrendering breath. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I guess I just imagined training with you.”

  “You will,” he ensures me, placing his hands on my shoulders, “but for now, you need to learn the basics. And this is the best way to do it.”

  “But why can’t you teach me the basics?” I ask with the same amount of surrender as before. “Why does it have to be him?”

  Victor leans in and presses his lips softly against the corner of my mouth. “Because Spencer isn’t afraid to hurt you,” he says and it surprises me somewhat. “And I don’t want to hurt you if I can help it. The only way you’re going to learn is if it’s real.”

  My eyes widen. “Wait…so you’re saying this tank,” I point over my shoulder with my thumb, “is going to hit me for real?”

  “Yes. It’s what I’m paying him for.”

  I think my mouth just fell on the floor. The air in the room suddenly hits the backs of my eyes.

  “You don’t have to do this, Sarai, but if you’re going to, I want you to go all in. Don’t half-ass it. In real life someone attacking you isn’t going to go easy on you,” he goes on, gazing thoughtfully into my eyes, wanting desperately for me to understand and to trust him. “I’ll train with you when the time is right. But when I do it, it will be brutal, Sarai. I will come at you with the same force a real attacker would. You learn the basics first, obtain some skills that you can fight me with and then I’ll feel better about training you myself. Do you understand?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I guess I do.” And I’m being honest with him. I totally understand now. And I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous to go through with something. But Spencer, the tank, doesn’t really scare me that much because I know deep down that even though Victor is paying him to not go easy on me, he still won’t hit me with everything he’s got. If he did, he’d kill me.

  “Do you want to stay?” Victor asks.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Good.”

  He leans in to my lips again and kisses me deeply, stealing my breath away. Shocked by his unnatural display of public affection, I find myself unable to speak when he pulls his lips away from mine.

  “I’ll be back here to pick you up in a few hours.”

  “OK.”

  We walk back to stand with Spencer who looks somewhat excited to start training with me, as if I were a shiny new toy that he can’t wait to play with.

  “Are you ready to start learning Krav Maga?” Spencer asks.

  “Yes,” I answer and my eyes drift toward the people fighting on the black mat behind him.

  “Are you sure you can handle it?”

  I want to say yes with confidence, because after all, I always imagined that self-defense classes consisted of nothing more than simple blocking and hitting and screaming to let others know of my whereabouts. I always pictured average women who’ve never fought in their lives all standing around waiting for their turn to take the instructor down with a few ‘helpful’ moves. But as I watch the group training behind Spencer, the aggressive intensity and violence in some of their moves, I’m beginning to think this kind of self-defense is very different.

  “Should be simple enough,” I say without the confidence that I wanted.

  “If you say so,” Spencer chimes in with a knowing grin that frays my nerves further.

  But I’m not afraid. Nervous, yes, but not afraid. I’m ready to do this. I’m starting to look forward to it. I want to prove to Victor that I have what it takes.

  And I want to prove to him that I’m nothing like his brother.

  Victor leaves me and before the first hour is over I’m exhausted and so sore that I can hardly walk a straight line without stumbling.

  ~~~

  “Always defend and attack at the same time,” Spencer says, standing over me lying beneath him on the mat, wanting to curl into the fetal position. “And never go down. This isn’t wrestling, Izabel. If you go down, you’re dead.”

  Out of breath and trying to hold back the intense pain searing through the back of my calf muscle, I bring myself to my feet.

  “Come at me,” he demands, his voice rising over the shouts of the few students still watching after the second hour. “If you don’t come at me, I’m coming after you!”

  I’m too exhausted.

  “I can’t!” I give up and fall against the mat on my butt. “This is too much. It’s my first day and I feel like it’s my first real fight. What happened to showing me what to do, teaching me how to hit?”

  “Going light on you, that’s what you really mean, isn’t it?”

  “Yes! Where are the instructions? The rules?”

  My back is killing me. I lay against the mat, spreading my arms against it above my head, and stare up at the brightly-lit ceiling. I don’t care anymore about Spencer and his dive-in-head-first training. I just want to rest.

  The fluorescent lights running along the ceiling move by fast as I’m suddenly being dragged across the mat by my ankle.

  “There are no rules in Krav Maga,” I hear Spencer say, but I realize a half a second later that it’s not Spencer dragging me.

  It’s a woman, with light brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. Confused by the turn of events, I’m too distracted to notice her foot coming down on my stomach. I yell out in pain, doubling forward as my legs and back come off the mat at the same time, my arms crossed over my abdomen. The breath is knocked right out of my lungs.

  “STOP!” Spencer says from somewhere behind me.

  I feel like I’m going to puke.

  The woman stops instantly and takes a few steps back.

  “Get up,” Spencer says and I decipher through the pain devouring my midsection that his voice is much closer than before.

  I look up to see him crouched behind me.

  “I’ll let you catch your breath,” he says gently and offers his hand. “This is Jacquelyn. My wife.”

  I grab onto his forearm and he grabs mine likewise and lifts me to my feet.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say to her with a God-awful grimace. “Or at least your foot.”

  She smirks.

  “Your man paid me to pretty much beat the shit out of you,” Spencer says. “But since I’m not in the habit of beating on women, I figure I should let my wife do the honors so that I can still get paid.”

  “It’s the best way to learn,” J
acquelyn speaks up. “That man of yours knows what he’s doing. Brutal? Sure. Necessary to one’s survival in close combat situations? Absolutely. For frail little bitches who do the dance of terror when they see a spider? Absolutely fucking not.”

  “Well, I’m not one of those,” I say icily. “That I can fucking assure you.”

  “Then prove it,” she taunts, bending over forward with her hands opened halfway out at her sides. “Remember there are no rules in Krav Maga. Always defend and attack at the same time. Always fight with aggression. And never go down.”

  “Yeah, I got that much. If I go down I’m dead.”

  Jacquelyn pretty much beats the hell out of me for the rest of the session. And when Victor finally arrives to pick me up, my nose and lip are bleeding, my right eye is bruised and throbbing, and I think I chipped a tooth.

  This goes on every other day for the next two weeks.

  And it didn’t take long for me to become good at it. Spencer says I’m a natural and that I must’ve ‘skipped the Barbie dolls and dress-up when I was growing up’.

  He really has no idea…

  I’m getting so much stronger, so much better at my technique. At one point I even managed to hurt Jacquelyn, buried my elbow in her ribs. I think I cracked them, but she won’t say so. Not because of her pride, but because she doesn’t believe in whining or letting something as petty as a cracked rib stop her from fighting.

  It didn’t take long for her to grow on me, either. When she’s not beating me to a pulp, I actually enjoy her company.

  Only two weeks have passed and I’ve done nothing but train with Jacquelyn and have even started training with Victor in the use of guns. But regardless of enjoying the training and looking forward to it every day, I’m frustrated that’s it’s taking so long. I expected Hamburg and Stephens to be long dead by now.