by HJ Bellus
“Hey, Country Pussy!” the man shouts.
A shirtless fighter with black spandex shorts on freezes. I know it’s Trick by his back. He turns around until he’s facing us. His eyes grow wide then his jaw sets in a firm line.
“Found me a new side chick, Trickster.” He sings out each word.
Trick’s long, muscle-defined legs eat up the distance between us. Before I know what’s happening, Trick shoves the man back with great force. I’m dragged back with him since he’s still holding my shoulders.
A firm grasp clutches my arm, keeping me upright. I’m pulled into Trick’s bare chest. My palms slap against his skin as a squeak escapes.
“Too fucking far, Jag,” he grits out each word.
“It was just simple fun,” Jag retorts.
My knees go weak and without warning give out. I’m scooped up in Trick’s arms. The ceiling blurs by, making my dizziness worse. I snap my eyes shut as Trick walks. I have no idea where he’s going. The noise dulls, and then a door slams shut.
“Baby, are you okay?”
Full, sweet lips press into my forehead. Trick doesn’t move them. As each second ticks by, the drumming of my heart settles down. I reach up and cup his cheek until I’m able to croak out a word.
“Ye—Yes.”
“I’m going to lay his cocky ass out, I swear.” Trick settles down on a bench.
I find the courage to open my eyes and try to shuffle out of his arms. He doesn’t have anything to do with it. Somehow, I end up straddling his thick thighs with his face in full view.
I gasp. Slam my palm over my mouth as tears well up in my eyes. All evidence of a looming panic attack vanishes at the sight of Trick’s face.
“Your face,” I squeak out.
He smirks. God, it’s sexy even through the cuts and bruises. The right side of his mouth curls up in his signature smirk.
“I won, baby. It’s all good.” He tightens his arms around me, pulling me closer.
I move without thinking and bring my finger up to the longest cut along the length of his cheek. I’m delicate, not wanting to inflict any pain on him.
“Don’t be sad.” Trick leans in and kisses my forehead. God, it undoes me every single time he does it. “A hazard of the job.”
“You love it, don’t you?” I ask, dropping my forehead to his.
“It’s what I live for.”
We’re silent for a long time. Trick’s the first one to speak.
“Love seeing you here, Mack-A-Bee, don’t get me wrong. I’m shocked to see you here.”
I lick my lips and flinch when I realize how close it came to grazing his skin. I swallow down a dry, thick lump lodged in my throat. “The self-defense class. Your friend, the woman who came to the center, invited me here.”
“Layla.” He helps me out.
“I thought I could do it then when I got off my bike I freaked and was going to bolt until Jag…”
“Fucking Jag,” he mumbles.
A light chuckle escapes me. “He called me every female name that starts with an M and still never got my name down.”
“He’s a dick. A good-hearted one, but still a dick.”
I lean back and clear my throat. It’s not anxiety attacking but something else. Nerves? Possibly. It’s a foreign feeling that somewhat exhilarates and terrifies me at the same time.
“Don’t be mad at him, Trick. Honestly, it helped me. He ripped the Band-Aid right off and didn’t even blink twice. I never would’ve come in on my own no matter how badly I wanted to.”
“You wanted to come here tonight?” he asks.
I nod and whisper, “I missed you.”
“Jesus,” Trick growls.
“I feel alive with you. Not sure how well I’ll do during the class, though.”
“I’ve got you, Mack. You just tell me when it’s too much.”
“That won’t be any more awkward than I already am. I just want to be normal.”
“Let’s make up a code word or action if you need a breather. Nobody will ever know. You can make a bird noise or flap your arms like a bird.”
A strange and beautiful noise comes from me. It’s the genuine melody of sweet laughter. “Are you serious?”
“Okay, I got a bit carried away with the bird theme.” Trick’s hands roam down to my ass, cupping it. A tingle races through me. It’s delicious and dangerous. “How about you wink at me?”
“Can’t wink,” I respond.
“Let me see.”
“I’m warning you.” I give him my best wink.
Trick bites down on his bottom lip as I try to wink a second time. Then he full-out laughs at me.
“I told you.” I smack his chest.
“Okay, okay. Don’t wink. Someone might think you’re about to have a seizure.”
“Rude.”
“It was adorable.” He kisses my forehead.
“Yellow. I’ll put yellow in a sentence,” I offer.
“Perfect. I want the story behind that color one day, baby.”
“Thank you for fixing my bike,” I get out before forgetting one of the main reasons for coming here tonight.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m serious. Thank you.”
Trick opens his mouth to speak, but I continue, feeling freedom with this man. All imprisonment of anxiety and shyness vanish the longer I’m around Trick.
“Besides Gene, no one has ever gone out of their way for me. I have no idea how you fixed it in the middle of the night, but Trick—it means everything to me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll fix all your flat tires, Mack. The opportunity to do so would mean the world to me.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he means. He wants me. It scares the shit out of me. It’s the craving for more that pushes me just far enough into Trick.
“Yeah? You telling me yes, baby?”
I nod again.
“You won’t regret it, Mack-A-Bee.”
That’s the one thing I know for sure. I may come out of this adventure with a broken heart. I make a promise to myself to appear on the other side regret-free.
Trick eventually coaxed me out into the gym. It took a good forty minutes for me to adjust to the sound of hitting from fighters training in the background and the chatter of the self-defense students.
Even though groups of women are rotating, Trick keeps me by his side at his station. It hasn’t stopped Jag from coming by and making crude gestures with his hands and pelvis. It pisses Trick off and makes me giggle. Jag should scare the shit out of me, but he’s just too damn funny.
Trick’s lost the attention of his current group of elderly women. They’re infatuated with Jag doing cartwheels. He’s stripped down to spandex shorts.
“Want to try?” Trick steps up behind me.
His solid chest presses into my back. His breathing tickles the nape of my neck.
“A cartwheel?” It comes out as a whisper. My spine tingles with an unfamiliar wave of emotion with the closeness.
Trick’s deep chuckle vibrates off my skin. “No, baby, what I was teaching in my group.”
I turn around when Jag reaches behind his neck and peels off his shirt. Trick didn’t make me participate in the class, which I appreciated. The self-defense skills they’re teaching are intense, exposing your weakness.
I take a deep breath in and let it out. “Yeah, I think I can.”
“I know you can.” He winks then bends down to grab a pad. He places it between his legs. “If your attacker is coming right at you, what do you do?”
Shit. There’s been punches, kicks, and different tactics to get away.
“Knee kick.” It comes out more of a question than an answer.
He nods his head and without saying a word advances on me as he did with every other student. Even though it’s Trick holding the padded barrier between us, it freaks me out. Once he’s within a few inches of me, I react, hoisting up my knee until it hits the black pad.
Tr
ick drops the pad. “Your form is good, Mack-A-Bee. If someone wants to get you, that won’t stop them. You have to put all your force into it. Give it your all. You won’t hurt me. This could be the one thing to stun your attacker enough to give you time to get away.”
I catch my trembling lower lip between my teeth and fight to focus on my breathing. I mean to reply in a confident voice, but it comes out in a damn hushed whisper again. “Okay, again.”
Trick doesn’t say another word as he backs up. This is my reality more than I’d like to face. I walk or ride a bike everywhere. The crime incidents are low around here, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. And as of now, I’m a damn sitting duck in a pond of water. I square my shoulders as Trick advances on me.
My knee rears back, and I kick it up with more force. The contact leaves behind a slight sting on my kneecap.
“Better.” Trick’s eyes light up with pride. “Harder next time.”
We repeat it over and over until I feel confident enough. My energy and confidence grow each time. Trick loops an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his chest in a one-armed hug.
“You’re a lot stronger than you think, Mack. Don’t hide anymore,” he mumbles into the top of my head.
“Mack.” My name rings out through the air.
I look up to see Layla waving me over. “Come try this station out.”
I step back, glancing at Trick. He nods to me, giving me his silent support. He drops the bag to the floor and laces our fingers together. I’m thankful he’s going with me even though I didn’t ask him.
“You’re looking amazing over there, Mack.” Layla wipes stray hairs from her face. “You’ve got a nice set of trunks there.”
I tilt my head, confused at her compliment.
“Your legs, baby,” Trick leans down and whispers in my ear.
“Thank you.” I glance down at my sneakers.
Trick squeezes my hand, reminding me to look up. Anger heats up inside of me. It hits me all at once. These are horrible habits I’ve formed over the years, and it seems breaking them will be damn near impossible. I’m safe and having fun yet still falling back on old fixations.
I look up to Layla and smile. It’s not a forced one, either.
“Okay, over here we are practicing the bear hug. I’ll demonstrate, then you can try it out if you’d like to. No pressure.” Layla steps back and gestures to Cruz.
Cruz comes up from behind her, wrapping her up in a bear hug.
“Okay, once you’re in this position, your natural reaction will be to grab your attacker’s elbow or wrists and try to break free. They have the element of surprise and more than likely will have more force and power to keep you there. So instead, you’re going to drop low as you can and squirm out of the hold.”
Cruz steps back for a moment then advances again. Layla drops her hands without thinking, drops low, and wiggles like hell until she falls out of the hold. Using her palms, she jolts up into a standing position and begins to run. She only gets a few steps away before stopping and turning back to me.
“Want to try?” she asks, stepping back up to us.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. The skin on my lips is tender from my nervous tendency to chew it. I step up to the center of the mat without putting too much thought into it. Trick is not too far behind me.
“This isn’t your station, macho man.” Cruz shoves his chest. “She’ll be fine.”
My eyes go wide at the action. These men are barbaric yet gentle all at the same time. I have no words to explain the oddness of it. And it’s not just the fact I’ve been so sheltered and have never been around men like these. No, it’s much more. These fighters at Diablo’s Throne are a special type of men.
“Don’t,” Trick growls.
Cruz grumbles something back, and this goes on for a few minutes until Boss steps up.
“Get both of your asses off the mat. All you’re doing is wasting time.”
Trick begins to argue. His possessiveness over protecting me is clear and evident. My fingers tremble. Each of my words comes out in an emotion-choked voice from the warm heat coursing through me. “It’s okay, Trick. I can do this.”
His neck stiffens, and his eyes grow hard. It takes him a few moments before taking a few steps back. Trick’s balled-up fists disappear into his pockets. I offer him a warm smile, letting him know I can do this.
“Okay, little lady, we are going to do the same thing Layla showed you. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, tap my arm.”
“Okay.” I don’t look down; instead, I look right into the kind and caring coffee-colored eyes of Boss.
Tingles spring up from the tips of my toes when Boss steps behind me. The anticipation of waiting creates panic inside me. I gulp, feeling pain in my dry throat. Massive arms wrap around me from behind. Boss’ hands lock in front of me. I freeze. My mind goes blank. Tears spring up in my eyes with the thought of how easily someone could restrain me. Boss squeezes me gently. I catch Trick stepping to me from the corner of my eye. It gives me the power and determination to carry on. I remember what to do.
I drop low. My knees pop as I do. I wiggle and writhe until I hit the floor. I’m not as fast as Layla but manage to stand up. My knees are weak, and my legs have the consistency of Jell-O.
“Good.” Boss pats the top of my shoulder. “Faster this time, okay?”
“Yeah, I panicked for a bit,” I respond.
“It happens, but the more you practice, the better your odds.” Boss takes two long strides backward. “Have you ever seen a cat put in a tub of water?”
“On a video, not real life.” I pull down my top, straightening it out.
“That’ll do. I want you to react like a cat in a tub of water. Fight until you get loose.”
I nod. I can do this. I shake out my shoulders, realizing there are several sets of eyes studying me. It doesn’t make my skin crawl. I feel empowered in a way. Boss comes up from behind me and does the same thing. This time I react faster, and moving like a frantic, panicked cat, I get out of his hold much quicker this time. When I hit the ground, I’m up and moving.
A chorus of cheers serenades me, causing me to flinch and stutter back. It’s not until I find Trick’s handsome face that I relax. His full mega-watt grin framed by his perfect dimples shines right back at me.
Chapter 9
Trick
A newborn calf doesn’t get up and walk without stumbling. Its legs are shaky and uncoordinated. It’s their mother’s loving nature, patience, and encouragement that finally gets the newborn moving. At first, it’s not a pretty sight, but before long, the calf is up on his steady feet, running.
I’m watching something very similar happen right before me. It’s all Mack needed—a little encouragement to break out of her shell. She fist-pumps the air a few times in the midst of the cheers. Good Lord, it’s almost as horrendous as her wink. Somehow, she pulls off the awkwardness, making her all the more sexy and intriguing.
Boss gives her a slow clap. The familiar pride lingering in each of his expressions makes me proud. Once Boss’ respect is earned, it’s all over. And trust me, it has to be earned. Nothing is given for free here at Diablo’s.
It’s all about baby steps with Mack. That’s the only thing keeping me from striding right over to her and wrapping her up in a hug followed by a long lingering kiss. I’d consider today one giant leap in the right direction for my Mack-A-Bee.
Mack shocks the shit out of me when she makes a move toward me. She’s confident and sure with each step. Her arms sling low around my waist as she pushes her cheek into my chest.
“Thank you.”
I find the low of her back, pulling her closer to me. She repeats the two words over and over in a hushed whisper. What just went down here is a huge fucking accomplishment for Mack. Emotion clogs my throat. This shit is getting out of control real fast. I don’t react to shit like this. I train, fight, and remain laser-focused.
“See you next week, Mack.” L
ayla pats Mack’s shoulder, causing Mack to pull back.
“Yes.” Mack runs her hand over her hair and adjusts her glasses. Those damn glasses fucking turn me on.
Her cheeks are painted a bright pink from the adrenaline of everything. Layla turns and begins walking away with Cruz at her side, his hand roaming dangerously close to her ass.
“Layla.” Mack steps out of my embrace. Her voice is pitched a tick high. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a really good time.”
“Anytime. Our gym is now yours.” Layla smiles and continues on her way.
I step up behind Mack, wanting to hold her to me as if she was my woman. It takes all my self-restraint not to, so instead I lean down and whisper in her ear, letting the tangy lime and coconut scent of her shampoo wash over me.
“How about dinner, Mack-A-Bee?” We begin walking side by side to the door.
“Can’t. I eat with Gene every Tuesday night. It’s our thing.” She glances up at me.
“What about the center?” I ask, pushing open the door.
“We don’t go on Tuesday nights. Tuesday nights have always been special in Gene’s house. When his wife was alive, they’d have me over every Tuesday night. As he aged, we never stopped the tradition.” Mack places a hand on the cracked leather seat of her bike.
“Wow. That’s impressive. Gene is quite the cockblocker.” I smirk, stepping closer and cupping her cheek.
“That’s embarrassing.” She tries to duck her head in hopes of hiding from me.
“No, baby, it was a joke.” I stroke the pad of my thumb along her cheek.
“I know. I do watch lots of Netflix even though I’m a hermit.” The metal bike frame clangs against the brick wall.
“I’m going to kiss you, Mack.”
“Okay.” The word ghosts off her lips.
“I’m really going to kiss you this time. No quick peck on your forehead. You better tell me to stop now because I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” I’ve moved my thumb to the raised scar that runs down her jawline, tracing soothing circles on it.
