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“Focus, Rox,” he said quietly, just to her. Then he turned to the class. “She’s going to try to get away from me.”
She glared at him when he wrenched her to the side again.
“Go, Rox.”
Jackass. This wasn’t her first rodeo. She twisted her wrist and tugged.
Nothing.
Joe increased the strength of his grip, and her eyes narrowed.
Squaring her body to his, she punched him in the stomach with her free hand. His hold eased for a split second, and she pulled free. On her next breath, his hand resumed its clamp-like grip on her wrist.
She gasped as he hauled her toward him. Before she could blink, she was facing the other women, back against his chest, arm pinned between their bodies. The air caught in her lungs when his forearm closed around her neck.
Memories of being held the same way by Preston Woodsworth drowned out her senses. Cologne and stale cigarette smoke filled her nose. Her shoulder burned before bursting into flames. The cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.
Roxie couldn’t catch her breath; the flashback was too intense. She began to tremble.
“Holy shit, baby,” Joe said, immediately releasing his grip. Turning her away from the class, he put his arm over her shoulder, tucked her against his side, and steered her toward the edge of the room.
As her hazy mind waded back to the present, Roxie watched something unspoken pass between the men. Cade seamlessly took over instructing the class, with Gavin and Quinn assisting. Other coaches and fighters moved from their side of the room to stand in front of her and Joe, creating a human wall to shield them from view of the other women.
Cade started talking about wrist escapes and small joint manipulation, but it was all just words, all incoherent. The only thing she heard with any clarity was the pounding in her ears. The only thing that registered was the man beside her.
“Holy shit, Roxanne, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” Joe ran his hands up and down her goosebump-ridden arms. “I wasn’t thinking.”
She shook her head, willing it to clear. If only she could stop shaking. “It’s not your fault.”
It had been almost nine months now since her terrifying ordeal with Woodsworth. Nine months. She should be over it. For the most part, she was. She hadn’t had a nightmare about it in weeks. But when Joe’s arm had locked around her neck, she’d launched back to that awful night when that madman had taken her captive. And just like back then, she’d panicked.
The warmth of Joe’s hands framing her face reminded her where she was. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”
She let out a shaky exhale and nodded. “It’s not your fault. You just surprised me. I’m okay, I promise.”
His gaze searched hers, and she saw his blue eyes were clouded with worry.
Needing to reassure him—and needing to not make a scene—she pasted a smile on her face. “Really, Joe. You just caught me by surprise. I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed.
She knew he didn’t believe her, but she pressed on. “As history indicates, I obviously suck at self-defense, so let’s get back to the class, okay?”
“Okay.” He moved his hands to her shoulders and squeezed. “Don’t think we’re done talking about this, Rox, because we’re not.”
Well, they were through talking about it now. That’s all that mattered to her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
“All right, ladies. Now that the sweaty, don’t-be-afraid-to-headbutt-the-bad-guy segment of our night is over, let’s move on to the alcohol portion.” Roxie set four wineglasses on the coffee table and filled them. Generously. “In the spirit of girls’ night, but more importantly, team building—because I’m writing off all the wine and food tonight as a business expense—”
“Of course you are,” Alex chuckled.
“Zip it, O’Conner.” Roxie grabbed her glass and took a sip. She reveled in the fruity, oak-tinged flavor. “Business first, and here’s the deal: Sheila and Alex. I value both of you tremendously, but you guys seriously need to stop being bitchy to each other.”
As both women began to protest, Roxie simply spoke louder. “I’m serious, you guys. If I have to play moderator, I will. If either of you refuses to participate or gets out of line, I’ll give Nina the okay to kick both your asses. After all, we’ve seen how she can beat the crap out of a punching bag.” She glanced over at Nina. “Frankly, even though you’re five foot nothing, I’m a little scared of you.”
Nina threw up her hands. “Hey, Alex is short, too.”
