Page 40 of The Hood and his Thief

She bared her teeth at the words and the conflict that rose in her mind at his statement. After her time with the Lions, she knew there was no such thing as fighting dirty if it meant you could best your opponent. The conditioning of the police force continually urged her to pull her punches. In one sentence, Ansel had prodded at the divide in her soul that became wider with every passing moment with the Foxes.

“If I stopped fighting by the rules, you wouldn’t be able to get the upper hand,” Rhosyn challenged.

“Why don’t we test that out?”

Little John stepped closer, the look of consternation on his face echoed by Olivia and Paul. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, boss.”

Ansel shrugged off his concern. “I’m the one who goaded her. If it’s inevitable Rhosyn is going to punch something, then I’d prefer to have myself being on the receiving end of her fists than you.”

Rhosyn raised her brows. “Nothing like a little sparring to combat the monotony of being held hostage.” Her palms itched.

Ansel jerked his head towards the bar. “We have a storeroom we cleared out to use for training. It should do nicely.”

He led the way behind the bar and Little John moved to follow. Ansel stopped him with an outstretched arm. “We’ll be fine.”

John opened his mouth as if to argue, but clearly thought better of it from the firmness in Ansel’s tone.

An edge of curiosity broke through the simmering anticipation of a fight under Rhosyn’s skin. She trailed him through a small door into a blank room. He closed it behind them as she took in the space.

A pang of something bittersweet echoed beneath Rhosyn’s breastbone. The middle of the room was clear, with barrels and crates pushed haphazardly against the walls to make the most room for all manner of activities.

It looked just like the back room at the old Den where Rhosyn had trained young Lions in self-defense.

Rhosyn turned to consider Ansel as he barred the door behind him.

“I wanted some privacy,” he admitted. “And if you do manage to knock me out, anything I can do to slow down the mayhem you might cause is a good thing.”

She cracked her knuckles, the sound loud in the empty room. “I should probably ask you why you agreed to this, but I don’t want to talk you out of it.”

“I’m glad you’re not asking.”

Before Rhosyn could ponder the meaning of his words, he lunged.

Reflexes that remained quiet, yet awake, grabbed at her muscles, letting her sidestep his attack just in time. As he swung past her, she threw out her elbow, catching him in the flank.

He let out a pained grunt but didn’t falter, swinging around and trying to take her feet out from under her with a swing of his leg. With a jump, she managed to avoid the blow to her ankles, but it threw her off balance.

Ansel pushed the advantage, coming at her with a flurry of blows. Rhosyn stumbled back for only a second before catching his punches on her forearms. The dull pain of what she knew would be bruises grounded her. At the same time, adrenaline surged in her veins.

It was a heady feeling. Like the one of drinking too much whiskey without the loss of clarity. Like the giddy sensation of Ansel’s hand in her hair.

The thought of their morning encounter threw fuel on the fire in her chest. Ansel had no right to make her feel such things, yet part of her yearned for more.

With a snarl, she ducked under his next right hook and drove her shoulder up into his stomach. The momentum knocked him back.

For a moment, the pair toppled through the air, seemingly weightless. Then, Rhosyn’s teeth rattled in her skull as they hit the ground.

Ansel brought his knees up as he went down, driving them into Rhosyn’s stomach and trying to kick her off. Her vision swam as her breath exploded out of her, but she bore down. She wasn’t much taller than him, but it was enough to allow her to pin him.

He struggled for a moment longer before giving in. With a tap on her forearm, currently braced across his throat, he signaled his defeat. For a second, Rhosyn considered taking advantage of the situation and knocking him out with a swift blow to the jaw.

He might have deserved it, for the brewing torment within her that he kept prodding into a more fervent simmer.

Instead, she backed off, sitting back on her heels.

After landing a few good blows, her tender pride at being held hostage was placated. Still, it didn’t feel completely satisfied, as if she were craving some other sort of release.

“Just as fierce as I remembered,” Ansel said, seemingly to himself as he sat up. The comment drew Rhosyn from her thoughts. His hand went to his ribs as he moved, likely bruised from the force of Rhosyn’s ramming shoulder.