Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

33. Clara

Chapter 33

Clara

T he dojo is cold, full of things I’ve never seen before, but they’re wholly uninteresting when I have RJ to focus on. And after this morning’s aborted action, I’m not sure how I feel about that fact.

He moves through the space like it’s a second home, gathering pads, mitts, and towels. I guess for him, the dojo is exactly that.

I run my fingers over a stand of practice swords, the wood brassy under the harsh fluorescent lighting, my stomach rolling at the slight scent of sweat that permeates the room.

Walker made omelets after we regrouped in the house, and we carried them up to the attic to eat next to the wet bar. It wasn’t convenient, but the main floor is officially just for passing through now. Thanks, Bryce.

I finished half of my omelet, but I know it’s not enough. If I could just sleep and eat like a normal human, I wouldn’t feel like my emotions are caterwauling at me. I’d like to revel in my rage at Officer Reed or worry about my inability to grab onto the fear that I should be having with Bryce making such obvious threats. But those things seem impossible right now.

I might be a broken girl, but I’d like to see Bryce try to break one of my “toys.” They’re a hell of a lot more slippery than Bryce knows.

Reminding me of that fact, RJ slides up behind me without me noticing, despite the mirrors on the walls. His lips are soft against my cheek. “Are you ready, sugar?” he asks.

I shrug, turning into his arms. I’m so damn needy, and I wish I weren’t.

But I am. Whining about it won’t change the way I feel like I can finally take a deep breath once he pulls me close. “As ready as I can be.”

RJ leads me to the center of the room. “Usually we’d take off our shoes, but for self-defense, it makes sense to recreate real-world scenarios. So we’re keeping our shoes on.”

“Got it.”

“What do you already know?” he asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and I drop down across from him, our knees touching.

“About self-defense? Almost nothing. Aim for where it hurts most and run, basically.”

“That’s actually a great start.”

I shake my head in denial. “Yeah right. Trips has been teaching me to box, kind of. I can throw an okay punch, but he said I don’t have a lot of power behind it.”

RJ chuckles. “Compared to what Trips can throw, I’m sure that’s true. But I’m also sure that you’re doing better than you think you are. What about if you’re on the streets at night, or alone, away from people? What do you do then?”

“Like, paying attention to my surroundings?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“I guess, if I’m feeling weird about it, I don’t put in earbuds, and I always try to walk like I know where I’m going, even if I don’t.”

“Perfect. And if you’re scared, what’s the first thing you should do?”

“How scared?”

“Freaked out, even if you don’t have a good reason.”

A loose thread on my running tights occupies my attention. “Sometimes I pretend like everything is fine and just keep walking, but I’m listening really carefully. But a couple of times, especially growing up, I’d just bolt. There was enough stuff that was dangerous to witness when I was a kid that running was the best option.”

RJ pulls my hands across the open space between us, holding them gently in his warm palms. “Excellent.”

“What does this have to do with self-defense?”

His eyes are warm when I meet them. “The first rule of self-defense is to not need it. Know what’s around you, who’s around you. Don’t look or move like an easy target. Trust your instincts and stay in spaces with other people. For example, a guy is struggling with a bag of groceries while trying to open his door and asks you for help. What should you do?”

My stomach drops. “I hate it, but say sorry and walk by, listening after I pass. My dad was serious about that one when I was a kid. I could only help moms with kids, or other kids. Never a solo adult. ”

“Smart of your dad. Being a good Samaritan can get you killed, and as much as my pops hates it, my mama and sisters learned the same as you. Women with kids and kids alone are less likely to be a part of a dangerous ruse and are the safest to approach if ever you’re alone and something doesn’t feel right.”

“I guess I know more about self-defense than I thought I did.”

“Most women do, even if they never took a class. Next up, you’re in a space without crowds but need to stay there, like waiting for a bus. How can you keep yourself from being an easy target?”

I think it over. “Look confident, listen to my surroundings, plan where I’d run if I need to, stuff like that.”

“The bus stop is covered. Where do you stand?”

“Back to the corner.”

“Awesome. Can’t sneak up on someone who’s looking at you. Now, you’ve been cornered. What’s your goal?”

I let out a sad huff of a laugh. “To get the fuck away.”

RJ’s eyes shine. “Exactly. You’re smart, you’re intuitive, and you’re fast. After today, you should be good at creating opportunities to escape. And that should always be your first choice, Clara. It sucks, but it’s the best choice for most everyone out there who needs to defend themselves. Don’t stay and fight. Get to safety.”

“It feels weak.”

“Maybe it is. But it’s better to be weak and alive than strong and dead.”

I flip him off before I can think better of it, but he catches my finger and pulls it into his mouth, my teasing anger turning immediately into arousal. “Not fair,” I say, my voice breathy as I glare at the playful glint in his eyes.

“Easily disarmed,” he whispers after letting me have my hand back, his voice lower than normal, and I wonder exactly how long we’re going to be able to delay the prize at the end of this game.

“Not always,” I counter. “Not by everyone.”

“Good.”

We stay close, both of us vibrating with want, the point where our knees touch charged.

Across the room, our phones buzz, breaking the spell.

RJ pops up and grabs our phones. “Not Bryce. You’re going to your dress fitting after we’re done here. Walker will bring you. Apparently, they’ve voted on buddy travel until we deal with Bryce, as his last threat included us as well.”

“Never be alone,” I recite, and RJ flashes me a grin as he responds to the text.

“Exactly.” He tosses the phones back down, coming across to pull me to my feet. “Now onto the fun stuff.”

“It turns out I kind of like the fun stuff. Or at least, it feels nice to punch shit sometimes.”

RJ’s hearty laugh makes me want to get right back to finger licking…and maybe other licking as well. My thoughts must show on my face because RJ’s smile morphs into something sinful as he takes two steps back. “None of that. Not yet.”

“Are you sure? Maybe just a little break?” I ask, following him, not wanting the distance between us to grow any larger.

His grin stretches wider. “I’m supposed to be the predator here, sugar, not you. ”

“You should always experience both sides of a new skill, don’t you think?”

His laugh is even louder as he catches my wrists and pulls me flush to him. “Tempting. But safety first.”

“Fun after?” I pout.

His lips meet mine and it’s everything I’ve wanted all morning. Warm, comfortable, with an edge of the unknown and a nearly unbearable want.

I want RJ.

And it’s pretty obvious that he wants me too.

Before things escalate, he pulls back, his eyes already hooded. “Nope. No. Not yet.” He separates from me, shaking out his arms and taking deep breaths, and I can’t help but laugh.

“That bad?”

“That good.” He shakes his head and jumps, muttering “no” to himself, his braids flipping across his face. “Nope. Back at it. I’m going to come at you. What are you going to do?”

“Kiss you?”

“Clara.”

“Fine. Run?”

“Try it.” Without warning, he sprints at me, and I spin, dashing to the corner, my heart racing for a different reason. Once there, I find out that while keeping my back to a corner is great when I’m worried about being snuck up on, it’s terrible for running away.

I hold my arms up like Trips taught me, the only fighting I know how to do flashing to the front of my mind.

RJ skids to a stop in front of me. “Okay, now that I’m this close, what do you do? ”

“Punch you?”

“No. We’re doing the basics here. Yell. Scream. Anything that might make people come running. Help, fire, rape, no, leave me alone, get away from me, police, any of those should work. And keep your hands up like you have them. Space between you and your attacker is key. Things get much harder once they have a hand on you. Try it.”

“Yell?”

“Yup.”

“What if someone comes running?”

“Then you’re doing it right. Now yell.”

“You’re a stern teacher.”

“This is important to learn. Yell, Clara.”

“Fine.” I try to think through the options he just listed out, settling on the one that would be least strange coming out of a dojo on the Sunday before New Year’s Eve. “No, get away from me.”

“Louder. Your life could depend on this.”

I take a deep breath and try again. “No, get away from me!”

“Better, but look at your hands.”

Immediately, I realize I’d dropped my fists to my side to yell. I pop them back up, yelling for a third time, my throat already feeling weird. “No, get away from me!”

This time I keep my fists where they should be, and I earn a smile from RJ. “Good.” He steps back. “Now run.”

We cycle through the same few steps four times, until I’m getting bored, which RJ tells me means it’s sticking. He finally grabs two pads for his hands, like Trips has, one red and one blue .

“You’ve run, you’ve been cornered, you’ve yelled, but your attacker still thinks you’re worth the fight. What should you do next?”

“Now that there are pads, I’m assuming I’m fighting.”

“And what is your goal with the fight?”

“To find a hole and run,” I grumble.

“Exactly. While Trips taught you to punch, you’re better using your pointiest parts to incapacitate your attacker. Elbows and knees. Fingers to the eyes. We’re not looking for a fair fight. We’re fighting for your life. The attacker is in your space, they can get a hand on you, and you have nowhere to go. What should you do?”

“This part I know. Knee them in the groin.”

“Yup. If they drop, run. If they don’t drop, what next?”

I shrug, not knowing.

“An elbow or knee to the gut, nose, temple, or back of the head. The more hits you can get quickly, the harder it will be for your attacker to recover.”

“Makes sense.”

RJ steps forward, the pads in front of his groin. “Knee to pad. A big swing so you have a bunch of momentum, your knee as tight as possible so it hurts worse. Go.”

We practice kneeing the pads, left and right, from strange angles and with RJ slowly closing the distance between us, backing me against the wall, looming.

My back presses against the rough brick behind me, while RJ hovers over me, any escape vanishing, when without warning, the panic reaches out of my chest and clings to my brain. Everything stutters to a halt .

My brain goes blank. My heart sounds sluggish in my ears. I can’t feel my hands.

The world turns hazy as I cease to breathe, to think, to see, everything turning dim, only RJ’s panicked face making it through the fog as I collapse to the ground.