Defensive Instructor - Debra Parmley

  “I don’t have anyone I need to email or message. I closed all my social media.”

  “Smart woman. Some have trouble stepping away.”

  “Oh, not me. I believe in learn and burn.” Lean gave a nod. “That’s my new rule. Learn and burn, and never look backward.”

  “You’re on the right path here, and we’ll help you to stay on that path to your new and vibrant future.”

  Vibrant? She’d never thought of her future as vibrant. Mostly, she thought of it as just trying to stay alive and away from Finn.

  They moved on down the hall to a room that was farthest from the other, common rooms.

  “Here’s our private session room,” Leah said. “Much of the time, you can find me here or in my office next door.”

  Chyna looked in through the doorway. Inside the private session room was a leather couch, two leather chairs and stained glass lamps near each. The effect was warm and inviting.

  “This looks so relaxing,” she said. “And restful.”

  “If I’m in private session, the sign saying so will be on the door. When you see that, go and tell Cecelia you want to see me when I’m out, and she’ll get any messages to me.”

  “Okay. There’s no one out there I need to talk to anyway. I’d be okay with dropping out of sight for a while, or even a long while.”

  Leah nodded. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “You’re not alone.” Leah smiled. “And you’ll find most of the women here have a similar need to do the same. They’ll share with you, as they feel comfortable. But I can tell you about Cecelia. She was attacked savagely outside a mall in Detroit.”

  “Oh no. How awful,” Chyna said.

  Leah nodded and continued. “She understands what we do here, better than most. She came to us from the Rosewood Center in North Carolina. Often, she’ll suggest things no one else thought of. I’ve yet to meet anyone with a stronger sense of hearing.” Leah dropped her voice to a whisper. “So, you don’t want to whisper near her. She’ll hear every word.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’ll remember that,” Chyna said.

  Leah smiled at her. “I’ll leave you to browse through the books. Do you remember how to find your room?”

  “Yes. It’s out this door and down the hall till the end, and it’s the last room on that side.”

  “You’ve got it.” Leah nodded. “Then I’ll say goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Chyna said.

  Leah left, and Chyna browsed the books until she’d seen all the shelves and how books were categorized. A good mystery, that’s what she’d choose. Nothing too violent, though. Maybe one of the cozy mysteries, where the story was about finding who’d done it but nothing violent was actually happening in the book. Something so her mind would let her relax and go to sleep. Now that she was here, she needed to relax and not be so jumpy around men and jump to conclusions.

  Selecting a book, she headed back to her room. She’d read in that big inviting bed.

  Barrett Williams was the first man to volunteer when Montana told the other men about the center and what the women needed. “I’ll do it,” he said.

  What went unspoken was the fact that an angry boyfriend had killed his cousin Silvia, soon after he’d enlisted in the Army. She’d been just seventeen, and Barrett had been away on his first tour, serving his country. Learning the news had fueled his need to fight, to work out his feelings and to make a difference in the world. He’d carried that all the way through Green Beret training and to missions beyond. Along the way, he’d learned a whole lot of other skills.

  It was no surprise to any of the men when he was the first to step forward and volunteer. But it didn’t take long until every one of the men signed up to help the women. It almost wasn’t a question. Of course they would.

  Leah White Crane had briefed the men on various things they might need to know about the women. Things that could be triggers and how the women might react. Protocols had been put in place for that eventuality.

  Barrett thought he’d been prepared to teach and lead this class, but he wasn’t prepared for the quiet blonde who hesitantly took her place at the end of the group of women who stood in sweatpants and T-shirts, waiting for their first lesson in self-defense. She was a knockout, and she was a small woman; something about a small woman always brought out the protector in him - and that, he couldn’t allow. Not this time.

  The grey T-shirt she wore nearly swallowed her up, as small boned as she was, and she hid behind long blonde hair, so he nearly didn’t see her green eyes. His first impression was of a delicate beauty who wanted to disappear, or hide, and was attempting to wear loose clothing to do it.

  She brought out his protective instincts and made him want to defend her against whatever she was afraid of. Loose clothing or not, she was a beauty. It didn’t matter if she were covered from head to toe like the women in the Middle East. She’d still be a looker, as his dad would’ve said.

  Frowning, redirecting his focus away from the pretty blonde and his initial reaction and back to the job, he pushed his errant thoughts away and back to the introductory talk he’d prepared.

  Their schedule every morning would start with physical training, and then halfway through the class they’d would switch to self-defense. They’d practice on each other. Since the class was all women who’d either been attacked or abused, this would be less intimidating and build their self-confidence.

  Barrett picked a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Let’s start with roll call, so I know your names.”

  He called out the names, and each woman identified herself.

  “Very good,” he said, putting the paper away. “You’re going to work with each other, woman on woman, the first few days. Later, I’ll bring in my guys from the team.”

  “Oh.” Chyna’s green eyes widened as she looked up at him. Then she frowned. “I don’t know about that. I’m not very strong. To go up against a larger man.”

  There was that tug again, the strong pull toward her. He pushed it aside.

  A tall redhead who went by the name Red instead of Penelope said, “Don’t be stupid. You’ve got to. How are we gonna learn to fight off a man if we only practice on women?” She gestured to the group. “None of those girls looks like they could kick my ass or like they’d even want to.”

  “Women. And you’d be surprised the damage even a small woman fighter can do, especially if she’s been training. Even boxers don’t usually box outside their weight class. There’s no shame in this. But you’re going to learn the moves and learn them well before we have anyone my size coming at you. We’re laying the groundwork, and we'll build on what you know.”

  “Are we gonna learn kickboxing? Karate? What are you going to teach us, exactly?” Red asked. “And what are your credentials? You got a black belt or something beyond those big muscles?”

  Red was mouthy. She was going challenge him at every turn, which didn’t faze him one bit.

  “I’m trained in karate, judo, taekwondo, aikido, jujitsu, boxing and kickboxing. And yes, I’m a 4th degree black belt, as well as a former Green Beret.” He watched the challenge in her eyes turn to one of respect. “Ladies, this isn’t going to be one focused discipline. I’m going to teach you elements from each, appropriate to your skill and fitness level, which can help you in a fight, but we’re not going to worry about what we call it. Other than self-defense.”

  “All right,” Red said. “Long as I can kick the guy's ass, I don’t care what you call it. I’m in.”

  “Good.” Barrett faced the entire class and said, “Listen up. We’re going to start every morning with conditioning. A jog to warm up followed by jumping jacks. Then push ups, sit ups, squats, planks, a few yoga stretches and some tai chi. That’s the first half-hour, and then the second half-hour we’ll work on self-defense.”

  “Just thirty minutes for self-defense?” Red questioned him. “Not a full hour? I don
’t need all that PT. I can jog on my own. Without some class.”

  “How far do you run every day?” he asked her.

  She shook her head and made a face. It was clear she did not run.

  “We’re working out together as a unit. Some of you may be at difference fitness levels, and that’s fine. You’ll all get faster at PT the more we do, and I’ll add on and change things as necessary.” He paused and looked around the room before continuing, making sure he had their attention.

  Chyna’s bright eyes looked up at him, and she smiled. That smile about blew him away, but he turned his head and started in again. “Now, I want to make it clear that it’s not my job as your instructor, nor my mission, to make you stronger. That job is up to you. How much you get out of these classes is up to you. I’ll take you from where you are now; using strengths you already have, to where you can use those strengths to defend yourself. Your endurance may improve, and your strength may improve, and that’s a plus. The goal here is for you to be able to defend yourself today and any day you walk out that door.” He pointed to the door. “I guarantee that when you walk out that door, you’ll know more about self-defense than when you walked in. Beyond that, how far you take it is up to you.”

  Leah White Crane had perched on a chair behind the students and was watching him and nodding. He knew his job and didn’t need an overseer, but it didn’t bother him that she was there. She’d said she’d come and go and would stay handy in case anything triggered one of the students.

  She’d given the men all the same lecture. They were to create appropriate boundaries and refrain from “rescuing” the student. They’d been warned that their very nature of being the ones who help, with a desire to save and rescue others, might make them want to solve the women’s difficult situations. But by becoming involved in the women’s personal issues, they could be putting themselves, the abused student, the other students and the center at risk. Instead, they were to refer the women to a licensed counselor or law enforcement officer so the woman could find safety and the training environment of the center would be protected. In short, they were to hold back, where they might want to rush in. They were to maintain a professional, impersonal boundary.

  The women, on the other hand, might be looking for a rescuer and could be highly attracted to the men of Brotherhood Protectors. Leah’s presence would help her see what was going on before anything might get out of hand. Three Cs Ranch was the third and newest center to open, but much had been learned during the operation of the other two. Attractions did happen, and they needed to be discouraged.

  The women were here to work on themselves, not get distracted by a new romance, a rebound with a man who might rescue them. Leah had reminded them, these women would fall for the fantasy, the fairy tale, and not for the man himself, but who she imagined him to be.

  “All right, line up and we’ll start our jog. I’ll be working out with you. This isn’t a race or a marathon; this is just to get your heart rate going and warm you up.”

  “I’m already warm,” Judy said in a low voice, which he overheard. Brown-haired, freckle faced Judy fanned herself, and Tamara, beside her, giggled.

  Chyna giggled too and blushed. She was even prettier when she blushed. Her green eyes followed his every move, and the way she looked up at him… pulled. He forced his gaze away. He would not be distracted by what was purely biological attraction, powerful pheromones and apparently unavoidable.

  But Barrett had discipline and had faced tougher challenges than that. By sheer will alone, he’d turn that off and teach.

  He ran with them, did jumping jacks with them and then sit-ups. In-between sit-ups and planks, he asked, “How many of you have an exercise routine?”

  Not one of the women raised their hand.

  Neecy said, “I had a gym membership, but I only went the first two weeks, and then I got busy at the salon.” She waved a hand, which had deep purple nail polish on her long fingernails. “I ended up canceling it.”

  “By the end of the month when you leave, you’ll have this routine, and it’s one you can do anywhere,” he said. “No equipment or gym membership needed.” It was important to teach them things they could continue. “Repeat a pattern for thirty days, and it easily becomes a habit. Now, I want you to think about habits and routines. Habits can be healthy, such as exercise,” he said.

  “I had me a habit who tried to break me, but I showed him,” Red said. “Ain’t any habit I can’t break.”

  “Planks are next,” Barrett said. “Here’s how you do one. Get into position, and I’ll set the timer. We hold this position until it goes off.”

  Everyone got into position, and Chyna lined up in front of him to copy the move. They both looked at each other from their positions, then he shifted his gaze across to the others in a sweep back and forth as he spoke.

  “Let’s think about the difference between habits and routines,” he said. “A routine can be something a stalker, or anyone watching you, can pick up on quick. We need to vary our routines while maintaining our habits. So let’s say you did go to a gym and got in the routine of going Monday, Wednesday and Friday at three or five-thirty on those days. That was your time. You could change that time and go early in the morning instead. Change things around. Vary the days and times you go. Park in a different spot, go through a different door. Think of ways you can vary your routines so they don’t become such set patterns that they never vary.”

  Chyna watched the hunky Green Beret doing planks with his triceps bulging. He did planks as if they were nothing as he talked, while she fought for her arms not to shake. He was so muscular. Her wrists and arms had never been strong; something Phineas demonstrated to her on more than one occasion.

  Well, I’ll show him. Wait till I get done with thirty days of this. I’ll be stronger. Oh, stop. I don’t want to think of him right now. Why does my mind go back to him? I’d better focus on Barrett.

  He was the fittest man she’d ever met and the first Green Beret she’d seen up close.

  He’s such a hunk. And this isn’t challenging him at all. How long can he hold the plank position? I don’t think I’m going to make it. Would the timer he set never go off?

  It finally rang, and she sunk to the ground with relief.

  “Push ups are next,” Barrett said.

  China groaned. Oh dear God, just kill me now. I don’t think I can do push-ups. My arms are tired from plank.

  Still, she gave it her best and made it one-third of the way through the set.

  “All right,” he said. “You’ve all done well for your first day. It'll get easier, and I’ll add to it. Now, everyone get some water, and then we’re going to talk about situational awareness.” He watched as they got water bottles and sat down.

  Chyna was wondering what situational awareness was and if it was like when she was hyperaware of things around her.

  “Situational awareness, also known as situation awareness, or SA, is a military term, the concept of which goes back to Sun Tzu’s The Art of War before the concept had a modern name. During World War One, these terms were first used. It’s, quite simply, observing your environment and the people within it and anticipating what they might do.” Barrett looked around at each of the women as he spoke.

  Chyna, though listening, couldn’t help thinking what a nice voice he had. She enjoyed listening to his voice, and he was good to look at, too. But she really ought to be concentrating, not daydreaming about the dreamy hunk.

  “How many of you have heard of an OODA Loop?” he asked and glanced all around again. “None of you. Okay. The OODA loop is the decision cycle of observe, orient, decide, and act, developed by U.S. Air Force Colonel John Boyd.” He wrote OODA on the chalkboard and above it wrote situational awareness. Then he turned back to them. “Situational awareness is the first tool in your self-defense tool kit, and you’re going to learn how to practice it every day.”

  “I just want to learn to kick ass,” Red said. “I don’t need a
history lesson.”

  Barrett ignored the comment and pressed on. “In combat, the winning strategy is to 'get inside' your opponent’s OODA loop by making your decisions faster, but also by having a better situational awareness than your opponent, and even changing the situation in ways your opponent can’t monitor or comprehend. Losing your situational awareness is being out of the loop. So, you want to be aware at all times and not be out of that loop, taken by surprise.”

  “Yeah, you got to stay aware, 'cause if you don’t,” Red smacked her hands together, making a loud noise, “bam, upside of the head.” She made a face at Barrett. “So tell me something new. Hell, I learned that when I was five.”

  “We’re laying a foundation here,” he said. “Foundation first and then brick by brick, so no bricks are missing.”

  Red folded her arms and leaned back. “Wake me when there’s something new.”

  Addressing Red directly, he said, “Tell me the number on your house.”

  “Five three one one, why?”

  “Now tell me the number on the center here.”

  “Ain’t one.”

  “And the number on the bus terminal?”

  She shrugged, not knowing it.

  “Here’s a homework assignment for you this week,” Barrett addressed them all now. “When you go out, in to town or just out anywhere, observe the number of the building every time you go inside. This will provide you with an address in case you need to call law enforcement or an ambulance or fire truck. This is a practice for you to get into. Any questions?”

  “Yeah,” Red said. “I’ve got one. A big one. We’re here at this center, where there aren’t any numbers, and there aren’t any other buildings around here that have numbers. Not for miles. So where are we gonna practice this homework? When we aren’t allowed to leave?”