She looks up, startled. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m gonna teach you how to fight.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says bluntly.
“I think it’s a great idea.” I set down my water and walk over, holding out my taped-up hand. “Come on. Get up.”
Jhene stares at my outstretched hand. “Killer, I’m serious. I’m not a fighter. I’m more of a... flight type of girl. You know, runningawayfrom danger instead oftowardit.”
“What happens when running isn’t an option? What areyou gonna do the next time some Russian asshole grabs you in a bathroom and there’s nowhere to go?”
Her brows draw close and her shoulders tense as she considers the hypothetical scenario.
She thinks of what happened at Barclays and nibbles on her bottom lip a moment. Then she sighs and slips her smaller hand in mine.
“Fine. But if I punch you in the face by accident, that’s on you.”
“I’ll take my chances. I take punches from men a lot bigger than you all the time, stray. I’m sure I’ll survive.”
I lead her to the center of the mat and position her in front of me, taking note of her stance. She’s tense, her weight distributed wrong, arms hanging uselessly at her sides.
“First thing,” I say. “Your stance. Feet shoulder width apart, one slightly in front of the other. Like this.”
I nudge her feet into position with my own, and she shifts awkwardly, trying to find her balance. My hands settle on her hips to steady her. She stiffens uncertainly at the contact, obviously worried about where this is going.
“Relax,” I murmur near her ear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I know that,” she says almost irritably. “It’s more like… I’m afraid I’ll hurt myself. You’ve seen me waitress at the Banshee, right? I’ve dropped entire trays.”
I let out a low chuckle. “You’ll be fine. I’ll even catch you if you fall.”
“What’s going on here?” grunts Malone suddenly. He’s walked back over from where he hangs out in his office, hands on his waist. He’s got his gym bag slung over his shoulder, signaling he’s on his way out. “Kill, this isn’t part of your regimen.”
“Taking a break from the regimen. Showing Jhene a few moves.”
Malone glowers in disapproval, though he doesn’t push about it. “Well… I’m out. Wife’s dragging me to dinner for our anniversary. Everybody else has gone home too. Make sure you lock up.”
I make a noise from my throat to signal I’ve heard and redirect my attention back to Jhene. My hands slide up to her arms and adjust their position.
“Hands up. Protect your face. Elbows in to guard your ribs.”
She follows my instructions, though she’s still too stiff. Obviously unsure of the stance.
I step around to face her, keeping my hands raised in a mirror of her stance.
“Good. Now, if somebody grabs you from the front, what do you do?”
“Scream and hope someone hears me?”
I shake my head incorrigibly. “Not exactly, stray. You create distance. Watch.”
I reach out slowly, giving her time to see it coming, and grip her wrist. She tenses up even more, instinctive fear flashing across her heart-shaped face.
But she still doesn’t pull away. She seems to quickly remind herself this is only a simulation.
“See how I’m holding you? Most people’s first instinct is to yank backward. But that’s wasted energy. Instead, you rotate your wrist toward my thumb—the weakest point of my grip—and pull.”
I guide her through the motion, showing her how to twist and escape. We practice it a few times ’til she can break free without my help.
