Page 51 of Knox

“What else?” she asked.

“You want more?”

“I want to know all of it.”

Pride welled in me. “All right. Front grab. Someone grabs your arm or your shirt.” I reached forward and closed my hand gently around her wrist. “What do you do?”

“Pull away?”

“Try it.”

She tugged against my grip. I held firm, not hurting her but showing her the futility of just pulling.

“You’ll never out-muscle someone bigger than you,” I said. “But you can out-technique them. Move your arm in a circle, toward my thumb. That’s the weakest part of any grip.”

She rotated her wrist the way I’d shown her, and her arm came free easily.

“Oh.” Surprise lit her face. “That actually worked.”

“Physics. Leverage. All the things that matter more than strength.” I held out my hand again. “Do it until it’s automatic.”

We practiced the release over and over. Wrist grabs. Shirt grabs. Hair grabs, though those made her flinch and I kept my touch feather-light against her hair.

“You’re doing great,” I said after the tenth repetition. “You’re a natural.”

“I don’t feel like a natural.” She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing hard. “My heart is racing.”

“That’s the adrenaline. It’ll pass.” I grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “But you did good, Sloane. Really good. A few more sessions like this, and you’ll have solid fundamentals.”

She took a long drink, then looked at me with something raw and honest in her expression. “Thank you. You were right. I feel better having these tools.” She smiled, soft and genuine.

We stood there for long moments, both breathing hard and flushed from exertion. I turned away when my mind conjured ideas far less than professional.

“We should put the furniture back,” I said, stepping away before I did something stupid like kiss her. “It’s late. We should get another couple hours of sleep if we can.”

Disappointment flickered across her face, there and gone. “Right. Yeah.”

We worked in silence, returning the room to its original arrangement. But every time our hands brushed passing a pillow or moving the couch, electricity sparked between us.

When the last piece was in place, Sloane climbed the stairs and disappeared into her room.

I returned to the couch and lay down, my body still humming with awareness. The feeling of her in my arms, even in a training context. The trust she’d shown me. The way she’d looked at me when she thanked me.

I was in serious trouble. Because keeping Sloane safe was more important than keeping my distance.

Even if it killed me.

Chapter 16

Knox

Archer’s rental pulled into Sloane’s driveway after breakfast with Colton riding shotgun. It was time for a major security upgrade. I wasn’t taking any more chances.

They unloaded boxes of equipment. Cameras, monitors, and enough cable to wire a small military installation.

I met them at the door, coffee in hand.

Archer whistled, the sound of a falling missile. “Man, you look like shit.”