by Leslie North
“That’s what all the ladies say,” Hector said, once he caught his breath.
His statement earned him a flat stare from Mercy and a dark glare from Vann.
“Kurt,” Vann waved the other instructor over. “Take the class for me while I work with these two alone, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Kurt said, his expression eager as he took off. Poor guy was probably dying for a chance to redeem himself after Vann’s dressing down of him in front of her.
“Sorry.” Hector struggled to his feet. “Bad joke.”
“The worst.” Mercy moved in beside Vann. “Step by step, please.”
Vann maneuvered Hector’s body around until his back was to him. “If you find yourself behind your attacker, use the element of surprise to your advantage.” He made a fist and pretended to sock Hector low in his sides, beneath his ribs. “Striking here will cause more damage to the soft tissues and help you avoid hurting yourself on his bones. This would also be true if you had a knife. Slicing here would give you the most damage per stab, lots of internal organs and blood vessels in the abdomen. A person would bleed out in a matter of minutes.”
Hector gave a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Should you be telling us how to kill people?”
“Should you be questioning me after that heinous, sexist joke you just made?” Vann growled, squeezing the guy’s neck just a tad tighter. “You’re here to learn survival skills for your job or gain confidence, yes? If it comes down to their life or yours, these are things you need to know.”
Mercy swallowed hard. She was thankful Vann was defending her honor, but Hector was starting to turn a bit purple. “Okay. I have that move down. Moving on to the next step.”
Vann stared at her a long moment before easing his hold on poor Hector’s neck. He let the guy go and moved around to the front of him. “If you are facing your attacker head-on, then you’ll need to be more creative in your tactics.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“No, because you are small. As I said, the normal maneuvers won’t always work for you. But there are ways you can use your size to your advantage.”
“Show me.” She moved in beside him, ignoring the tingle of awareness his nearness caused, and concentrated on mimicking his gestures.
“First, let’s get the basics down. These will work, no matter your size. The wrist sweep.” Vann had Hector grab his forearm, and then turned his wrist in the direction of Hector’s grip to break his hold. “That’s called a same side sweep. You can also go in the opposite direction, like this.” Hector grabbed him again and this time Vann twisted the other way. “That’s called a cross body sweep.”
She nodded, trying the move on her own.
“Okay,” Vann said. “You and Hector practice that a moment while I check on the rest of the class.”
“I really am sorry about that joke,” Hector said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Not sure why I thought that would be funny.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Mercy practiced a same side sweep with Hector. “I grew up with brothers. Takes a lot to shock me.”
“Cool.” Hector grabbed her arm again and this time Mercy tried the cross body sweep. Surprisingly, it worked. “Hey, you’re pretty good at that one,” Hector said, grinning.
“About time I started getting good at something.”
They repeated the move several times from several different angles until they both had it down. By that time, Vann had returned to pronounce judgment on their skills.
“That one appears competent.”
“Be still my heart,” Mercy said, giving Hector a sly wink. “The master approves.”
“It’s a turn of the wrist, not brain surgery,” Vann said, moving in beside her once more. “Things will only get more difficult from here.”
Refusing to let him rain on her tiny parade, Mercy squared her shoulders. She was staying and that was that. Leaving wasn’t an option. “Bring it on.”
Vann raised a speculative brow at her. “While I admire your courage, you may live to regret that.”
“Story of my life,” she said. “Don’t you need to run the rest of the class?”
He cocked his chin toward the front of the room. “Kurt has it under control. Hector, why don’t you join them?”
“Uh, sure.” Hector looked at Mercy. “You okay?”
“Always.” She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile, her heart sinking as Hector walked away. Either she was about to get her butt kicked by her hunky instructor or he was going to make good on his earlier threat and toss her out on her ear. Or worse, both. “I can’t go home.”
Vann narrowed his gaze. “Then prove to me you want to be here.”
He wanted to see what she could do? Fine. She reached for his arm and he quickly pulled her against his hard chest, every muscle and sinew in his body pressing tight against her. Despite the flare of lust that ran through her, Mercy kept her posture rigid and twisted her arm as hard as she could to break his hold. Nothing. He chuckled near her ear, the sound warm, rich and deep, jolting desire through her system. The man was a pompous, self-righteous bully yet she couldn’t seem to keep her traitorous libido in check whenever he was around.
It was nuts. It was damned inconvenient. It was the one card she had left to play.
“So, is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Mercy said before she could chicken out.
“What?” The shock in Vann’s tone was obvious and Mercy made her move.
She bucked hard against him, knocking him off balance, then kicked him hard in the shin and stomped on his insole. Vann grunted and hunched over to protect his midsection, letting her go. She stopped short of elbowing him in the nose, but only because the rest of the class seemed to have stopped what they were doing and were staring at her like she’d grown an extra head.
“All right! Let’s hear it for our new student, Mercy Conde, who just showed our fearless leader, Vann Highrider, how it’s done, class!” Kurt applauded and whistled loud and soon the whole class joined in.
Mercy took a bow then hazarded a glance at Vann, who was watching her with a curious expression. Yeah, she was so going home after the shit she’d just pulled. Biting her lip, she stepped back as he straightened and approached. He stared straight ahead, as he walked by and said, “Outside, Miss Conde. Now.”
“Why are you here?” Vann asked, arms crossed and suspicions high. He had enough crap on his plate right now, what with Mark being down for the count because of his bum hand and the continuing indications that someone was still casing the Brothers In Arms compound. After Mark’s fall from the top of the sabotaged Diesel Dome about a month prior, he’d used his tracking skills to try and figure out who had rigged their apparatus to fail. He’d found footprints that didn’t belong to anyone there and tire tracks for a vehicle that wasn’t owned by the company and didn’t match any of their students’ vehicles. Then, just the other day, he’d gotten an anonymous note in the mail saying that Brothers In Arms needed to watch its back and that Vann, in particular, better be on guard that someone was going to frame him for the recent SEAL murders.
Yeah, they’d finally gotten the cops to accept that the dead SEALs hadn’t committed suicide, but at what cost? Now Mark was laid up and Vann had to check constantly over his shoulder to make sure there wasn’t a stranger behind him, ready to blow his brains out.
Speaking of blowing his brains out….
Mercy stood before him, not meeting his eyes. Truth be told, she’d actually impressed him back there, taking him down the way she did. After the shock of it wore off, he’d realized she was good under pressure and seemed able to think on her feet to rise to an uncertain occasion, but it was her formal skills and physical size that were lacking. She was petite, which under normal circumstances would’ve been just fine with him, but here in the program, it put her at a decided disadvantage. The way she was currently fidgeting under his gaze, her shoulders slightly slumped and her
fists clenching and unclenching, only solidified his opinion.
“Well?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.
“Are you going to kick me out?” She met his gaze, finally, her blue eyes wary.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“I told you. I’m here for my family’s business. They need someone to oversee our restaurant’s international growth, but in order for my parents to give me the job, I need to prove to them that I can take care of myself. A graduation certificate from Brothers In Arms would go a long way toward appeasing them.”
Brothers In Arms had quickly distinguished itself as one of the premier civilian security training facilities in the world in the five years since the guys had started the business. They were at the top of their game, which was another reason why Vann had been so stressed lately. This business was everything to him and the recent SEAL deaths, followed so quickly by Mark’s high-profile accident, had cast an unfavorable spotlight on the business. The press had spun the whole story for ratings, making it unclear exactly who was at fault for the murders. Throw in the murder of Tim Rigsdale, a local white supremacist who’d gained national attention for starting his bogus American Way PAC to support Frank Sutton, a former ex-SEAL who was making a run for Congress in Ortega’s district, and it was all turning out to be a shitstorm of epic proportions.
The last thing Vann needed right now was a shy, insecure woman to take under his wing. Mark’s words from earlier rang through his head.
Her company is a global giant in the restaurant industry. We do well with her, it could bring in millions in new business over the next few years. Income we need, desperately….
Vann exhaled and narrowed his gaze.
Mercy swallowed hard and looked away.
Shit. Just shit.
Okay, fine. He’d made a promise to the guys. No way he’d break that, no matter what a pain in his ass she might be. Besides, she had laid him out flat, which was no easy feat. Maybe with a little work…. Okay, a lot of work, she might improve enough to graduate. It would have to be a two-way street though. If Vann was committing his time and energy to this, he needed to know she’d be just as determined to succeed as he was.
He took a deep breath, not missing her wince.
Jesus.
“Look, if I agree to coach you personally, to make sure you have the best shot at getting through this course, then I need your word you will give one-hundred-percent, all day, every day, until this class is over. No excuses. No whining. No more dangling four feet off the ground on the climbing wall pretending the world’s ending. Deal?” He held out a hand for her to shake.
Stunned didn’t begin to describe the look on Mercy’s face. Honestly, he would’ve laughed if this weren’t so serious. She looked like one of those anime cartoons, with her huge, wide eyes and raised brows. Mercy blinked at him several times, her gaze darting from his hand to his face then back again, her auburn brows just slightly darker than the curls on her head slowly drew together and her full lips turned down into a frown. “So you’re agreeing to help me?”
“Pretty sure that’s what I said.” He dropped his hand. “Are you going to accept or not?”
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and for one crazy second Vann wondered what she’d taste like if he kissed her. He shook those thoughts off before they could take root. Bad enough he’d be tied to her so closely day in and day out. The last thing he needed was to sleep with her on top of it. Never mind he hadn’t dated anyone in nearly six months.
He liked being on his own. Period. End of story. When the guys all voted to hire trainers like Kurt to take over most of the actual instruction, it allowed them to focus on projects they did best. For Jace, it was marketing and social media. For Mark, it was corporate clients. For Vann, his specialty was developing their curriculum.
“And you’ll help me get through the course? Make sure I graduate?”
Now, it was Vann’s turn to blink at her. “I’ll do my part. But only if you do yours. We have to be in this thing together, one hundred-one hundred, or my offer’s void.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes. I’ll take your deal.”
Vann didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed. Part of him looked forward to the challenge of working with her, building her up physically and mentally to handle anything that came her way. That had always been his favorite part of training new SEALs watching them walk in as greenhorns and seeing them leave as fully trained fighting machines, prepared for any and all battles ahead of them. Being a SEAL required brute strength, yes, but it also required intelligence and the ability to think on your feet. Mercy had the last two in spades.
The other part of him was skeptical of her hasty acceptance. He’d secretly hoped he’d scared her off and she would decline his offer, run home to her rich parents and wealthy lifestyle and forget all about becoming a civilian GI Jane.
“Do we have a deal then, Mr. Highrider?” Mercy held her hand out to him this time.
“Vann,” he said, surprising himself. “You can call me Vann. And yes, Miss Conde, we have a deal.”
Her grip was surprisingly firm and solid, not the wimpy, limp-noodle shake he’d been expecting. She grinned and his whole world seemed to light up. “Great. And please, call me, Mercy.”
4
Mercy woke up at six sharp the next morning, pumped and ready for a fresh start. With Vann agreeing to help her, she felt much better about the program and her chances of graduating. She rushed through her shower and brushing her teeth, pulling on one of the standard issue black Brothers In Arms T-shirt all of the participants were required to wear each day to class.
Yesterday, had been something of an orientation, a chance for the students to get a chance to see what Civilian Defensive Tactical Training was all about and let the instructors see what skills the new class had for them to build upon. She pulled on a pair of shorts, shoved her feet in her sneakers, and grabbed her class binder before rushing out of her hotel room. She stopped in the lobby to grab a quick breakfast from their complimentary, serve-yourself bar, then headed straight for the Brothers In Arms compound on the outskirts of tiny Ortega, California. As she drove through the quaint, oceanside town, she couldn’t help smiling. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could kick butt out on the tough streets as well as in the boardroom. Maybe the bright sunshine and blue skies above were a good omen.
She pulled into the gravel lot of the compound about twenty minutes later and saw several of the other students had also arrived earlier. Mercy got out, locked her car, and then caught up with Hector, her partner from the day before, as he walked inside the newly built training center. The fluorescent lights hummed high overhead and her sneakers squeaked on the rubberized floor with each step, setting up a matching rhythm to her pounding heart. She’d skipped her usual coffee this morning and still felt amped. That was a good sign.
“Hey, Hector,” Mercy said, following the big guy inside. “How are you today?”
“Good, Mercy. Thanks for asking.” He smiled at her over his shoulder as they headed for the chairs that had been set up around a large blue mat in the center of the training room floor. “How’d you do yesterday? Saw you knock that instructor right on his ass. Good going.”
Heat prickled up from beneath the crew neck of her T-shirt. “Thanks.”
Honestly, she still couldn’t quite believe she’d gotten the better of a guy like Vann. He was so tall and strong and powerful. Being able to catch him off guard and best him physically like that had been heady stuff for a bookworm gal like her. Being that close to him, period. She’d never met a man quite like Vann before—all brawn, brains and badass attitude. Her usual fare of men were other restauranteurs she met as part of her job, or sometimes salesmen. Nothing too exciting there.
She took a seat beside Hector and opened her binder. Today’s class was entitled Psychology of Defense and Danger Awareness. Sounded like a lot of theory and analysis, so ba
sically right up her alley. Perhaps she didn’t need to strike that deal with Vann at all. Brains had never been her problem. It was the belief department where she fell short. Mainly belief in herself.
The rest of the class arrived and took the remaining seats around the mat. Mercy shifted in her seat, her foot bobbing as her energy levels continued to bubble on high. After years of living in her brothers’ shadows, she finally had a chance to prove herself on her own terms and man, oh man, did she want to do well.
Her already thudding pulse kicked a bit higher as Vann walked into the training center, with a guy she didn’t recognize. Vann caught her eye and gave her a curt nod before taking his spot at the center of the mat. “Good morning, class and welcome to the first official day of Civilian Defensive Tactical Training. Again, my name is Vann Highrider. I’m an instructor here at Brothers In Arms and also one of the co-owners of the business.” He cocked his head toward the blond man beside him. “And this is another instructor and co-owner, Jace Stevens. Together, along with our third partner, Mark Rogers, we have more than thirty years combined experience in military security. All three of us served this fine country of ours as Navy SEALs and now we hope to use our expertise to help civilians stay safe and secure in an ever-changing, dangerous world.”
He met Mercy’s gaze again briefly before glancing away. She felt the spark of challenge and determination in his dark eyes all the way to her toes. Okay, yeah. The guy was gorgeous. She could admit it. In a brooding, dark, Lou-Diamond-Phillips-circa-Young-Guns sort of way. If you went for that type. But she wasn’t here to get a date. She was here to convince her parents to hire her for her dream job.
Vann continued, “At the end of class each day, your instructor will be grading your efforts. This isn’t done to make you feel inferior. It’s to ensure that you are learning the skills you need to survive and that we are teaching them to you effectively. You must score at least eighty points or higher on the practical exams given each day to earn a passing grade for that class. Fail two or more classes and you are automatically denied graduation from the program. Any questions?”