Full Contact

by Sarah Castille

  After slamming the man one last time against the vehicle and watching him slide to his knees on the ground, Ray returns to the Jeep and bangs the door so hard the vehicle shakes. For a moment, he doesn’t move, save for the violent quivering of his body. Lips pursed in suppressed fury, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles whiten, he glares at the rearview mirror until the black sedan pulls away from the curb and speeds past us and into the night.

  I’ve been to enough fights, talked to Tag enough times, that I know better than to speak to or even touch Ray until he’s calmed down. But I can’t slow the pounding of my heart or deny my instinctive desire to run from an angry Predator. A familiar prickle crawls across my skin, and I grit my teeth and fight it away. The last thing Ray needs right now is me having a panic attack, so I dig my nails into my thigh and take a deep breath and tell myself it will be okay.

  Without a word, Ray turns on the ignition and pulls into the road. He doesn’t look at me, and I wonder if he’s so far into the zone that he has forgotten I’m sitting beside him.

  We drive and drive. I break and ask if he’s okay, but he doesn’t answer. Finally, he pulls over at a historic hotel at the edge of the Claremont Canyon Regional Preserve and reaches over me to grab a flashlight from the glove box.

  “Take this.”

  When he slides out the door, I sling my purse over my shoulder and tuck my phone into my jacket pocket.

  Not that I think he’ll hurt me, but I like to be prepared.

  Ray fishes around in the back of the Jeep and produces another flashlight, bigger than the one he gave me. Then he takes my hand and tugs me toward the back of the hotel.

  “If we’re going up the Stonewall Fire Trail, I’ll need to change my shoes.” I point to my black sling-back pumps. “I’ve got a pair of running shoes in my gym bag in the backseat.”

  After a quick shoe change, I follow Ray to the back of the hotel. I haven’t been up the Stonewall Fire Trail in years, and never at night. I hiked into the hills a few times as a teenager and occasionally with Jess for the incredible, expansive views of the East Bay and San Francisco. But the steep one-mile ascent is a killer.

  Ray holds my hand as we make the climb. Creatures scurry in the underbrush, and birds swoosh overhead. I startle at an unfamiliar noise in the darkness and squeeze Ray’s fingers. But I am more worried about not sounding like a freight train than being attacked by a wild animal—especially since I’ve got one holding my hand.

  When we reach the top, Ray sits on the grass and pulls me down between his legs, my back against his chest, his warm arms wrapped around my waist. The city spreads out below us, soft lights fading to the inky black bay.

  “Do I get to know what’s going on?” I look over my shoulder, and Ray leans down and presses his cheek against mine, rough with a five o’clock shadow.

  “Don’t want to let you go.” He pulls me in tighter and buries his face in my shoulder.

  “I’m not planning on going anywhere.” And then my blood chills. “Are you ending this? Is that why we’re here?” Was Doctor Death right when he said Ray would walk away?

  Ray doesn’t answer. Instead he draws in a deep, shuddering breath and I try to connect with him in the stillness. Closing my eyes, I sink back into his body. My breath is his breath. Our hearts beat as one. We are in full contact. But I can’t sense him in the darkness. How can he be so close and yet so far away?

  “I shouldn’t have taken you with me,” he says after an interminably long silence.

  “I wanted to go.”

  “It was too dangerous. I knew that. Every other time, I’ve stopped myself from taking you out in public. Even this afternoon, I made myself walk away. But when you gave me that picture…” He squeezes me so hard, I can barely breathe. “Fuck. It was so beautiful. After all the beauty I destroyed in my life, you gave a piece of it back to me. And the way you drew yourself…that’s what I see. The real you. And you gave me that too.”

  “Ray.” I turn my head and rest my forehead on his cheek, rough with stubble. “You’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

  A tree frog croaks in the distance, and something scurries in the tall grass. We are alone but not alone. Even the silence is not silence because I can still hear the hum of traffic, the wail of sirens, and the occasional faint blare of a car horn. But the breeze is soft and cool, fragrant with the smell of grass and a kiss of the ocean. And Ray still has his arms around me, protecting me in the darkness.

  “When I moved to the Bay Area a couple of years ago and started up as a PI, it was the first time I had control over my work.” His voice drops to a soothing murmur and I relax into his arms. “I got a job working at the law firm where Amanda used to work. Met Amanda. Liked her. She was a good person caught in a bad situation. Turns out power corrupts at all levels, and when I saw they were doin’ her an injustice, I did my best to help. Got to know her very well, and Penny, her secretary, and the boys at Redemption. Before that, my life had always been about duty, never staying in one place long enough to have friends. Lisa was my first and only serious relationship and we hooked up only because we were stationed together.”

  “In the army?”

  He brushes a kiss over my cheek and sighs. “I started thinking about staying here, and Torment hounded me to join the Redemption team, but duty kept calling. I had assignments that kept taking me away. I joined the underground league so I could fight without letting anyone down. And then one day, I saw you at a fight.”

  “You saw me? I kinda stayed in the back.”

  “Couldn’t see anything else. That was the day I decided I wanted a real life. I wanted a chance to be with a girl who took my breath away, to have friends, to answer only to myself. But the job I do, it’s not that easy to walk away, so I tried not to get too close to you. When you gave me that picture, I realized I’d lost that battle a long time ago. Suddenly I wanted to take you out so bad—more than anything I’ve wanted before. Just for a night, pretend it was real.”

  “It is real.” I brush my hand over the cool grass.

  “Tonight says it can’t be real.” Ray releases me and pushes himself to his feet. “I put you in danger. It can’t happen again, especially after what you’ve already been through. It was a stupid dream and I should have known better.” He stalks away through the darkness. I hear rocks clatter, swearing, a strangled cry. I shine the flashlight in the direction of the noise and find him seated on a rise, his arms crossed on his knees, head down.

  Although not very reassured by his words, I can’t ignore his pain, so I make my way up the little hill and kneel in front of him.

  “Let me in.” I ease his legs apart and he lifts his head as I shuffle close and wrap my arms around him.

  “Shhhhh.” It’s my turn for shushing now and, curiously, he doesn’t resist. Instead he wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against him, shuddering against my body.

  “Look at me,” I whisper. “This last month we’ve been together, I’ve done things I never thought I’d do before. Things I thought would destroy me. I’m stronger than I thought I was. I’ve been leaning on people for too long. I don’t know what threat that guy was to me, but whatever it is, I can deal with it, Ray. We can deal with it. Together.”

  “My beautiful girl.” His words are a soft murmur against my neck. “Never wanted anything as much as I want you. Never wanted a normal life as much as I want it now. But I can’t go through losing someone again. What if, one day, you turn the corner, and he’s there and I’m not fast enough? The guilt never goes away. It eats at my soul.”

  Kneeling, I stroke his hair, soft and silky under my palm. “You need to forgive yourself. What happened with Scott, and with Lisa too, wasn’t your fault. They made their choices. Just like I’ve made mine.”

  The sound that comes from his throat is part sob, part groan. A prickling sensation shoots up my spine and for some inexplicable reason, I feel like I’m about to lose him. So I don’t let him go. I hold him tight while i
n the back of my mind I wonder if this will be the last time.

  * * *

  “Where were you last night?” Tag paces beside me on the mat in the warm-up area of Redemption as we wait for the rest of his Get Fit or Die class to arrive. “I thought you were joining Renegade, Rampage, and me at the Protein Palace after work.”

  “Something came up.” I pull my ball cap low on my forehead, hoping to hide the last vestiges of swollen eyes and a sleepless night. “So are you and Renegade tight again?”

  “We’re good.” He frowns and tips up the visor on my cap. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I was with Ray. It wasn’t such a good night. Something happened.”

  Tag stiffens, instantly on alert. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. There was a guy in a car. Ray thought he was following us. He beat him up and afterward, he said he was a threat. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I don’t think it had to do with his work as a PI.”

  Tag glances up as two women join us, both wearing tight Lycra bike shorts and tank tops and looking as if they’ve taken the class multiple times and have mastered the Get Fit part of Get Fit or Die.

  “Ladies.” He smiles the smile that got him voted king of the high school prom. “We’re meeting over by the exercise mats.”

  After the women leave, he says, “Why don’t you just ask him?”

  “He won’t tell me. He’s always very vague when he talks about his work.” I bite my lip. “Would you be able to check him out? I mean, find out what else he does for a living other than being a PI, and other…stuff like that? I’m beginning to wonder if that rumor about him being in the CIA is true.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Tag leans against a lat machine and folds his arms. “I can’t believe he’s a fucking spook. That just sounds crazy. His work as a PI is legit. Ask Amanda or Renegade. And what else do you want to know about him?”

  “Anything.”

  “You don’t trust him.”

  I scrub my hand over my face. “I thought I did, but now I’m not sure anymore.”

  Tag pats my shoulder. “Then you should think about moving on. You’ve got nothing without trust.”

  I follow Tag back to the mats, where the rest of the class is waiting. Maybe nothing has changed over the years. Maybe I’m still exercising the same poor judgment I showed when I was eighteen. One thing I know for certain, Tag is motivated only by the desire to protect me.

  Or not.

  Fifteen minutes into Get Fit or Die, I change my view. Tag doesn’t give a damn about protecting me. He wants to hurt me. Badly. Does he seriously think I can run ten laps of the gym, then do fifty starfish jumps followed by twenty burpees without a break? Does he think I’m not going to tell Mom and Dad about his filthy language as he hurls abuse at us for being too slow? And what the hell does this have to do with fighting?

  “Move that ass, O’Donnell,” he shouts. “You’re at the back of the class. You know what we call the people at the back of the class? We call them losers. That’s you. So get the lead out, so we can have another loser to laugh at before the class is done.”

  I look at the clock. Forty-five minutes to go. I’m not going to survive. Wheezing, I stumble over the mats and mentally write my epitaph, Fuck you, Tag.

  Tag’s phone buzzes. As if possessed by a hive mind, the class stops as one. Tag jogs over to Doctor Death and Shayla, a.k.a. Shilla the Killa, who are spotting each other in the free-weight area. A few minutes later, he jogs back and scowls. “Did I tell you to stop running? Laziest class I’ve ever had. I gotta go take a call. Shill and Doctor Death will take over until I’m back. Show them what you’ve got. Ten more laps around the gym followed by fifty crunches and twenty push-ups.”

  He looks over at me and the other women. “And don’t give me any bullshit about women’s push-ups. Only things on the floor should be your hands and your toes.” He looks over at Shayla and barks. “Show them the drill.”

  Shayla laughs and drops to the mat. She does twenty push-ups, clapping in between, without her knees ever touching the mat. Then she bounces up and grins. “Who’s next?”

  Not me.

  Tag disappears and we run our obligatory laps, but as we position ourselves for the crunches, Doctor Death holds up a hand.

  “Most of you are here to learn some MMA fight skills, isn’t that right?”

  Most of us nod. Doctor Death smiles. “I always think it’s a good idea to give people a little taste of what they think they want, so they can be sure that’s what they really want. So while you all catch your breaths, Shilla and I will split the class into two and teach you a few fight moves.”

  In that moment, I love Doctor Death even more than potato chips. But the moment doesn’t last.

  “Sia, I could use your help.” He gestures me forward, and I push up off the floor with a groan. Surprise. Surprise. I’m in Doctor Death’s section of the class. Good thing Ray isn’t here.

  “First move I’m going to demonstrate,” he says as he lies on his back on the mat, “is a basic triangle submission.” He motions for me to mount him, which involves sitting astride his hips, knees to the mat. When I’m in position, he curls one leg over my neck and yanks my right arm across my body until my body weight drops and his thigh is pressed against my throat. I stiffen as the pressure restricts my airflow, but before I can panic, Doctor Death winks.

  “Always wanted to get you in submission, Sia. I am a submission specialist, after all.”

  Indignation replaces fear, and I huff as he releases me and explains the move to the class. While I recover, he pulls up another victim…er, volunteer and demonstrates a dominant position, which I boil down to “man on top.”

  Next it’s time for us to practice our mounts. I try to get my mind out of the gutter when Doctor Death says he wants to mount some volunteers. I manage to avoid him by pairing up with one of the “Fit” girls for the full mount and half mount, but when it’s time for the rear mount, Doctor Death calls my name.

  Moments later, I find myself prone on the mat with Doctor Death sitting astride me horsey style. He tells the class the name of the game is control. The rear mount is one of the most dominant and controlling positions because it leaves the person on the bottom in a very vulnerable position. I don’t feel vulnerable, just tired after too much physical activity. And since I’m lying cozy on the mat, I consider having a little nap until Doctor Death yanks me up to all fours and kneels behind me with his hands on my hips.

  Still not feeling vulnerable, but hoping that whatever Doctor Death is now grinding into my ass starts with the letter C and ends with the letters UP, I look over my shoulder and glare. “What’s this called?”

  He gives me another wink. “Having fun.”

  “Don’t have too much fun, or you’ll be getting a nasty surprise on your ass the next time you come in to the tattoo parlor.”

  Doctor Death laughs. “Sia. I’m shocked. I never thought you had it in you.”

  “I’m discovering I have a lot more inside me than I ever knew.”

  “From this position, I can demonstrate a rear naked choke.” Doctor Death leans over my back and slides his arm around my neck, pulling me up to my knees until my throat rests in the crook of his elbow. My body tenses. I’ve watched enough fights to recognize this powerful and super-difficult-to-escape submission, and I’m pretty damn sure being held immobile with my air cut off is going to set off my triggers.

  And yes, when Doctor Death pulls me back so I’m lying flat on top of him, my ass pressed against his “cup” and my windpipe tight in the crook of his elbow, I hear the familiar roar of blood in my ears, much like the roar of the crowd when the Predator had the Meat Grinder in this same hold. Everyone thought it was all over for the Meat Grinder, until he went Tasmanian Devil, wiggling, squirming, shrimping, and bridging until the Predator was forced to release his hold. Of course, the Predator still took him down, but I can be a devil too.

  Taking a deep breath, I fight back the panic, an
d thrash and wiggle against Doctor Death like my life depended on it. I use every move I’ve seen in the fights, struggling the way I wish I had struggled with Luke. That night I froze, unable to process how someone I trusted implicitly could betray me so profoundly. This time, exhilarated by the fact I’ve fought back the fear, I fight. Moments later I am free and crouched in a defensive position on the mat.

  Doctor Death pushes himself to his side and quirks an eyebrow. “And that would be a way to escape a rear naked choke if one were in the ring, although it was entirely unnecessary during a class demo.”

  “Saved you from losing a coupla limbs.”

  I look over my shoulder and my stomach does a back flip. Ray is leaning against the wall, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, as if he’s been there for quite some time. He’s wearing his purple fight shorts and a gray T-shirt stretched tight over his deliciously hard body. But when he catches my gaze, I look away. I want to see him, but I don’t. Last night was enough heartache to last a lifetime.

  “Come.” Ray holds out his hand to me, and I shake my head.

  “I’m in the middle of a class. I’m learning how to fight.” Then I lift an eyebrow. “Might be useful if I found myself in a dangerous situation.”

  He swallows hard. “You want to fight, I’ll teach you.”

  Hands clenched, I push myself to my feet and close the distance between us so the rest of the class doesn’t get an unexpected show. “I thought we were done,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You said you were a danger to me. You said you couldn’t go through losing someone again. Then you just dropped me off at home and didn’t answer my texts.”

  “Man finds himself in a situation where his heart is trying to rule his head, he needs to take a step back. Get some focus.”