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He smiled. “Sure. Maybe not karate, but the other two, absolutely.”
“Kicking?”
“Why not?”
“Maiming the gonads?”
“You’re not practicing on mine.”
She smirked. “I want to be able to take down a man of your size.”
“I can teach you that. If you’re brave enough.”
Like he thought, fire flared to life in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Challenge accepted.”
“Good. We can practice right after dinner. Oh, and you’re coming with me to Chicago at the end of the week.”
“Chicago? Please tell me you’re not a Cubs fan. I may have to stab you.”
“Stab me? A little bloodthirsty, don’t you think?”
“Just call me Stabatha.”
“Didn’t know you were into baseball. And what’s wrong with the Cubs?” He waved the question away. “Never mind. So, you going with me?”
“To a baseball game?”
“No, Vivi. I have a job to do.”
She blinked. “Don’t you work for the club?”
“I work wherever I’m sent. The Death Riders can be hired for certain skills. I’m an accountant, and I’ve been hired to examine some expenses.”
“You must be a great accountant. But, of course, I’m going with you. Where you go, I go.”
“You may be sitting around doing a whole bunch of nothing. Or shopping.”
“Oh, the horror.”
Chapter Nine
True to his word, Lincoln took her to the gym after dinner, to start the tutoring lessons. After scarfing down a bowl of chili, as well as several pieces of cornbread, Vivi hurried to change into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. He waited for her in his own gym clothes, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from panting over his hard muscles on display. She regularly did yoga, so her warm-up took no time at all. He also stretched and flexed, and she had to surreptitiously wipe away some drool from the corner of her mouth.
“First thing is, if you can’t run away, you need to know the weak parts of a body,” he said. “The nose, the throat, groin, and back of the knees.”
“Okay,” she said.
“The second thing is that sometimes you don’t need to do a lot to get away. Bending fingers back. Biting. Hitting a man’s dick. Pulling hair. Let’s get Bolt over here to practice on.”
“Fuck you,” Bolt grumbled, but he came over anyway.
Lincoln walked her through the steps he just mentioned, plus a few other moves targeted to hurt an opponent. With her petite frame, he showed her that her size didn’t mean she couldn’t attack. As he talked, a few more men joined them to watch. Each had their own opinion, even at the expense of teasing him mercilessly.
“Those are the limpest wrists I’ve ever seen,” called out one man with auburn hair and a neat beard.
“I’ve heard that’s not all that’s limp,” Bolt said with a wink.
The men laughed as Lincoln flipped him off.
