Strong Hold

by Sarah Castille

  “Did you get that? Kimura, Americana, armbar. You need me to do it again?”

  My throat constricts as emotion swells inside me. I can’t stop thinking that I might never make it as a professional fighter. Maybe Damian didn’t just break my body, he broke who I was inside. I will never be able to take the risks I used to take—not in the ring, and not with my heart.

  I shake my head, and he moves into an arm triangle that involves him lying fully over my body, one arm wrapped around me in what should be a restricting move but feels like a hug instead.

  I want to be hugged. I want to be held. I want to lie beneath his strong, muscular body and hide away from the world.

  “You okay?” he says quietly, pushing up to the next move, which involves a switch of arms that puts us face-to-face, his body cradling mine.

  “Yes.” I can’t look at him, so I turn my head as if preparing for the next move, a Swedish roll.

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” He pushes to his elbows. “Deep inside, you are still the girl I knew who wasn’t afraid of anything. She showed me what it meant to be brave. She inspired me to be more than I was. If it wasn’t for you, I would still be living in that trailer park, dreaming of the kind of life I have now.”

  “What life? Being a recruiter?” Pain turns to anger in a heartbeat. “You tell me I’m afraid, that I need to take risks, but what about you? I know you love MMA. I feel it. I see it every time you walk into the gym. MMA is not what you do. It’s who you are, and you are slowly killing yourself by denying it.”

  His head jerks back as if I hit him, and his eyes harden. “It’s not the same, and you know it. If you take a risk, you could win a fight. If I take a risk, another man might die.”

  “No one died in the ring at the underground fight.” I’m taking out my anger on him, and I know I should stop, but I can’t. He told me some difficult truths. I owe it to him to challenge him, too.

  “That was different.” Zack pushes up, still straddling my leg, and I hug myself against the loss of his warmth. “I was in control. That wasn’t the case during the Okami fight. He pushed and he pushed and he pushed until instinct took over. If I’d been in control, I would have seen the signs. Instead, I was on autopilot, hitting until he was down.”

  Just like my dad. He doesn’t have to say it, but I know. Following in his father’s footsteps was always his biggest fear.

  “There is nothing of your father in you, Zack. You are a good person, a kind, protective, and selfless person. I know you left me because you thought you were doing the right thing, and I’m still trying to come to terms with that. But I know one thing for certain. There is a line you would never cross. You think I’m afraid to take risks, but you are, too.”

  He folds his arms over his chest. “This isn’t about me.”

  “It’s about us,” I say. “And each of us finding a way to overcome our fear.”

  * * *

  “Look what the cat dragged in.” Cheryl snorts a laugh when Joe limps into Symbian, his back stiff and his arm in a sling. “Yup. Those criminals are going be scared,” she continues. “Maybe you could threaten to hit them over the head with your cast.”

  “Nice to see you, too. You’re in my chair.” An uncharacteristically irritable Joe waves her away. “I’m on the desk for the next few weeks, so you two are gonna be stuck with Sol on patrol. Think you can handle him?”

  “Sol’s not gonna mess with us now that he’s seen what Shayla can do.” Cheryl squeezes my bicep. “Our girl here can kick some real ass.”

  “My fists and your gun. We’re a good team.” I smack a fist into my palm, and finally, Joe laughs.

  “We need to set Joe up with someone,” Cheryl says quietly as we get ready for our patrol. “He hasn’t gone out on a date since his wife died. My heart breaks thinking about him hobbling around his house alone, no one to talk to. All that passion and no one to share it with.”

  I never thought of Joe as a passionate man, but Cheryl is right. He loved Lizzie with everything he was. He gave her his heart, his soul, and last week, he almost gave his life to see her again. After losing both Zack and my ballet career, I locked up my passion. I lost touch with who I was and what I wanted out of life. I stopped letting the music take me away.

  Sol arrives late for his evening shift. He takes one look at me, and his lips turn down at the corners. “Well, if it isn’t the little girl who thinks she’s hot shit ’cause she can throw a few punches and knock down guys who can barely stand.”

  “At least I made an effort.”

  He snorts in disgust. “In a real fight, you wouldn’t have stood a chance. You woulda been begging me to save you. Women aren’t made to—”

  “Don’t go there.” I cut him off before he starts on yet another misogynistic rant. Usually, I just turn my back and walk away, but I’m still riled up after my conversation with Zack. Who is he to get in the way of my dream? Or to tell me I’m afraid of taking risks. I’m going to take one right now.

  “Come on, Sol.” I open my arms and walk up to him. “Take a shot. I’m sick and tired of listening to you go on about what women can and can’t do. No one here is going to say anything. You have my word. This is your big chance to prove yourself. Show us what you’ve got. Show us what you would have done to those intruders if I hadn’t been there.”

  He looks at me in disgust. “I’m not fighting a girl.”

  “Oh. So you’re afraid.”

  “Afraid to hurt you and lose my job.” He looks to Joe for some manly support, but all he gets is disdain.

  “You couldn’t take her even if she was blindfolded with one arm tied behind her back,” Joe says.

  “Fuck you.” Sol walks right up to me and gets in my face. “You’re a fucking woman. I could break you like that.” He snaps his fingers.

  I grab his wrist, twist his hand behind his back, and force him to his knees.

  “You want to show me that again?” I release him, and he spins around, fist finally clenched with the punch that has been a long time in coming.

  Ducking down, I sweep his leg, knocking him to the ground. With a roar, he stands, and I grab him and knock him down again. I straddle his leg like Zack showed me in the gym and twist his arm into a painful armbar.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on,” I tell him as he grunts and strains beneath me. “You are never going to touch Cheryl’s ass. Or my ass. Or the ass of any woman in this facility. You are not going to make derogatory comments about women or hide in people’s offices watching porn when you are supposed to be on shift. You do all that, and I won’t report you for sexual harassment, nor will I finish what I’ve started right now. Do we understand each other?”

  “Get the fuck off me, bitch. You’re breaking my fucking arm.”

  I sigh and shift my weight, tightening my lock on his arm. “Bitch is a derogatory word. You want to rephrase that, or should I make my threat a reality?”

  “Jesus Christ. I was just fooling around. You can’t even take a joke.”

  “I like funny jokes.” I push up and release him. “Chickens crossing the road, priests in a bar…”

  “That’s my girl. Right there,” Cheryl mutters under her breath as Sol stalks away to the back room to change into his uniform. “She’s so damn awesome, I am not worthy to be breathing her air.”

  “Cheryl…”

  “A bit much?” She grins. “Or should I be louder next time?”

  “Not too loud,” Joe warns, gesturing to the door. “We have company.”

  Officer Morrison and Detective Waterton join us at the front desk. Cheryl’s cheeks turn pink when Officer Morrison smiles.

  “Hi, Jim.”

  “Jim?” Detective Waterton smirks at Officer Morrison. “Is that why you didn’t stay to play cards with us on Friday night?”

  “Shut it, Waterton.” Officer Mor
rison gives Cheryl a kiss on the cheek, and a smile spreads across her face.

  Joe and I share an amused look. Cheryl usually makes bad choices when it comes to men, which is why she’s been married and divorced four times and she hasn’t hit thirty. Unless Officer Morrison has some hidden secrets, he is the first decent guy we’ve ever seen her with.

  They ask a few questions, and we check over our statements. Detective Waterton asks me about MMA and tries to convince me to join the police force. He’s a bit of a flirt, and he makes me laugh with his stories about crimes gone bad. While we’re talking, Sol slips out the side entrance. His attempt to avoid talking to the police is foiled by the eagle-eyed Waterton, who follows after him with Morrison in tow.

  Detective Waterton is waiting at the front entrance when Cheryl and I head out on patrol ten minutes later. At first, I think he’s doing something police related, but when he says, “Shayla, I was waiting for you,” I clue in pretty fast.

  “More questions?”

  “Just one. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a coffee when you’re done with your shift.”

  Cheryl indiscreetly splutters and jabs me in the ribs. I’m about to admonish her for her childish behavior when she jerks her chin toward the parking lot, and I realize her outburst isn’t because Officer Waterton is asking me out on a date but because there is something I need to see.

  I follow the direction of her furiously jerking chin and spot Zack, leaning against his blue Acura in the parking lot, his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing ripped, low-rise jeans that are a feast of seams in all the right places and put all sorts of naughty ideas in my head.

  His gaze flicks to Detective Waterton and then back to me. He breaks away from the Acura and stalks toward us. Even from here, I can see his eyes narrow like laser beams on the police officer, as if he knows the competition is sniffing around.

  “Thanks.” I give Officer Waterton a polite smile. “But I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Another night then?” Watertown digs into his pocket and hands me his card. “My private number is on there. You can call—”

  Whoosh. The card disappears from my fingers, and Zack hands it back to the startled detective.

  “I’m her coach. She’s training tonight.”

  I glare when he slides a possessive arm around my shoulders. “I’m not training with you tonight, because I’m going to…” I scramble for a plausible reason to turn both men down.

  “Amber’s ballet recital,” Cheryl says. “It’s tonight at seven. Shayla was coming with me, because none of my family could make it, and she didn’t want me to be alone.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Zack says. “I like ballet.”

  “Were you listening? It’s a ballet with little girls.” I look over at Cheryl for a little more help, but she’s too busy trying not to laugh.

  “Even better.”

  “That doesn’t sound good, Zack. Especially when there’s a police officer present.”

  Zack tips his chin at Detective Waterton. “He’s a guy. He understands.”

  Waterton laughs and gives Zack a manly thump on the arm. “Sorry, bud. Didn’t mean to step on your toes. My fault for not asking Shayla if she was with someone.”

  “I’m not with someone,” I protest. “Especially not him after what he did today.”

  “Being a guy,” Detective Waterton says, “and understanding things as guys do, I don’t want to get in the way.” He holds out a hand, proving just what a nice guy he is, and shakes hands with Zack. “Nice to meet you. Enjoy the recital.”

  “What are you doing here?” I mutter as Cheryl walks the detective to his car.

  “You’re here.”

  For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. He makes it sound so simple. Like where else would he be?

  His gaze travels up and down my unflattering polyester uniform. “Did I ever mention how hot you look in your uniform?”

  “Save your smoldering intensity and sexual innuendo for someone who cares.”

  Zack leans against the metal railing. He grabs my security belt and pulls me toward him, settling me between his legs. “We didn’t get a chance to finish our talk.”

  “You were in an I-don’t-want-to-talk-I-want-to-glare-and-say-mean-things-and-kill-your-dreams kind of mood.”

  He cups my jaw in his hand, strokes his thumb over my cheek. “I told you the truth.”

  “The truth hurts.”

  “It usually does.”

  “Is this your attempt at apologizing for going all fight coach on my ass this afternoon?” I lean into his heat, inhaling his scent. God, he smells good, like beer and whiskey, with a hint of leather.

  “You know I don’t grovel well.”

  I laugh despite myself. “Actually, I don’t know, because we almost never fought. Looking back, that probably means we didn’t have a healthy relationship.”

  “Or it means we were meant to be together.” He captures me with his gaze, studies me like he’s trying to look into my soul.

  “So why are you here really?” I smooth my hands over his chest, take a step closer. I can’t help myself. Whenever I’m with him, I need to touch him. He’s like a drug, and I need my fix.

  “I got you on the card for the TVA event. You wanted it so much, I couldn’t stand in your way.”

  My breath catches, and I wrap my arms around him. “What happened to ‘you’re not ready’?”

  His smile broadens, warms my heart. “We have three weeks. You will be ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Pleasure.” He leans down, nuzzles my hair in a very uncoachlike way. “Used a little star power to make it happen.”

  “You are a total star.” I let him go, just as the police officers drive by.

  “You should thank me for that, too,” he says, nodding at the departing car. “We’re gonna need a new set of rules while I’m coaching you to greatness. No other men.”

  My mouth drops open, and for a moment, I am at a loss for words. How could he even think I would want to be with another man? Even if Zack hadn’t shown up, I would have turned Detective Waterton down.

  “And no sex with other men,” he says, filling in the silence. “I can’t focus if I’m thinking about you with someone else.”

  “Then don’t think about them.”

  “You’re sleeping with other guys?” His voice rises in alarm, and although I’m tempted to play the femme fatale, I don’t want to set him off after he got me into the TVA event.

  “Calm down.” I give his arm a soothing pat. “I don’t have time to sleep around.”

  “Ahem.” Cheryl clears her throat, announcing her return. “Not that I’m trying to guilt you into it in any way, but Amber would be thrilled if you came to her recital tonight. She’s in primary A now and she’s dancing the Imperial Orchid.”

  Zack frowns. “You weren’t really planning to go?”

  “I haven’t been to a ballet in four years. I don’t think I could watch. Anytime I see ads for the ballet or hear classical music, I have to break out a box of tissues.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Cheryl waves a dismissive hand. “It’s no big deal. I just thought it would be nice for Amber to have a cheering section, and you needed an out, but I totally forgot about—”

  “You’re afraid,” Zack says to me, cutting her off.

  I drop my head back and sigh. “We’re not having this conversation again.”

  “Afraid? Are you kidding me?” Cheryl laughs. “My girl isn’t afraid of anything. You should have seen her bounce Sol around this afternoon. He’ll never touch a woman’s ass again.”

  Zack goes utterly still. “He touched you?”

  “No,” I say quickly, because I can see his muscles tensing, his feet ready to move. “It was all talk. However, I might have goaded him into punching me—”<
br />
  “Jesus Christ.” Zack scrapes a hand through his hair. “Where is he?”

  “It doesn’t matter where he is. He won’t touch me again.”

  “Bam.” Cheryl smacks a fist into her palm. “She had him down on the ground faster than you could say ‘misogynist pig,’ and then she threw herself over him and did some kind of twisty thing and almost broke his arm.”

  I shrug in response to Zack’s questioning look, although I’m damn proud of what I did. “Kimura, Americana, armbar. It worked pretty well.”

  Zack’s lips quiver with a smile. “I can’t condone fighting outside the ring. But damn. I would have liked to see that.”

  I would have liked him to see it, too, because it was exactly what he said I needed to do. All offence. No defense. No fear.

  No fear. Maybe I should go with Cheryl tonight. Ballet was such a huge part of my life, and I have shut it out for the last four years. I’m afraid, just like Zack said. I’m afraid of the pain of loss that has been such a constant in my life. What would it feel like to be as brave with my emotions as I was in the ring with Elsa or with Sol tonight?

  “What time is the recital?”

  “Seven.” Cheryl’s eyes light up. “You’re coming? Amber will be so excited. You’re her ballet idol.”

  “I’m coming, too.” Zack presses a kiss to my forehead. “It will be like old times.”

  “Except I won’t be dancing.”

  “You will be dancing.” He taps my chest above my heart. “In here.”

  21

  Shayla

  Zack takes me home to change after my shift. We have half an hour to kill before we have to leave for the concert, and Zack has some ideas about how he wants to spend it.

  “Take off your uniform.”

  “No need to get bossy. I was planning to change. I can’t show up at a ballet recital with a belt full of weapons.”

  He sits on my bed and leans back on the pillows, arms folded behind his head. “Leave the belt on. Take the rest off.”