That one was far more unsettling.
We had fake guns that we used, but they were heavy like a real gun. The red tip, signifying the gun was fake, did little to ease the tension in my shoulders when the barrel was pressed against my forehead.
I was paired up with a small redhead, which helped keep my fear from taking over, but my heart still began to pound in my chest, fighting its way up my throat. I ran through the motions of yanking down on her wrist with one hand and lifting the gun up with the other. Adrenaline seeped into my bloodstream, giving my hands a slight tremor and making my movements more erratic than I would have liked.
Tamir watched as we practiced, weaving his way through the small group and pointing out corrections. When he arrived at me and my partner, the gun was back against my forehead. I tried to ignore him, but it was an exercise in futility. His steely gaze was a vise around my rib cage, denying my lungs much-needed air.
I surged through the motions, wanting to get the demonstration over with so badly that I nearly hit my partner in the face with the enthusiasm of my feigned strikes. Despite successfully disarming my partner, I was embarrassed with my performance and upset at my lack of control.
“That’s not bad,” Tamir said. His unexpected compliment actually sounded genuine, despite my own self-doubts. The nugget of approval sent a flush rippling beneath my skin. “This time, try not to telegraph what you plan to do. You’re leaning into your action prior to striking, and the motion gives away your intent. Here, try again.”
He took the gun from me and did something I hadn’t expected. He pressed the cool metal against my forehead, interjecting himself into the drill. Everything about the situation felt different when I looked into his eyes across from me rather than the soft green gaze of the redhead. My pulse pounded throughout my body like a determined fist against a wall, trying to break its way outside the barrier of my body.
Tamir’s stare was a black void, slicing into me without a trace of humor.
I lost all sense of the drill and tumbled back into my memories. Tamir’s eyes were easily replaced with the soulless glare of a man I never wanted to think about again. A feverish chill lanced through my spine, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up. Before I could drown in the panic, I banished the image with sheer force of will and flooded my muscles with cool, determined purpose.
Ignoring the growing weakness in my knees and my heart’s steadfast attempt to pound its way out of my chest, I launched into my attack and disarmed Tamir. The clarity provided by a river of adrenaline racing through my veins enabled me to execute the move perfectly. I had no delusions that Tamir wouldn’t beat me in a fight, but in that one single instance, I would have bested him whether it had been a drill or not.
“Very good.” His fathomless gaze held mine as the world around me returned into focus. I got the feeling he was studying me, but I wasn’t sure what had triggered his sudden scrutiny. Eventually, he held out his palm and turned to my partner. “Your turn.”
I gave him the gun, my skin sparking where my fingers brushed his. His hard gaze flashed back to me for a heated second before he ran through the drill with my partner, giving me a chance to calm my racing heart.
I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Training with Tamir made me nervous, but normally, I handled the pressure without losing myself in a panic attack. He was my instructor; he was there to help me, not hurt me. Except I saw something ruthless lurking in his eyes, giving me the sense I was truly fighting for my life and dredging up memories I preferred to keep deeply buried.
Had I been projecting my own messed-up past on him, or had the tightly reined violence I’d seen in his eyes been real? He was secretive and enigmatic, but did he actually pose a physical threat to me? Not for the first time, I wondered how and why he’d learned to fight so well. Did it matter? Dangerous was dangerous, whether he had a valiant excuse or not.
For the rest of class, I managed to plaster a smile on my face and finish training without drawing any more attention to myself. As everyone dispersed, I hurried over to collect my gym bag but startled when I found Tamir had followed me.
“Oh, hey,” I offered nervously, wiping a sweaty strand of hair off my cheek.
“Your technique was nice back there. Did you train somewhere else before you started here?” He leaned against the wall casually, but somehow, the energy surrounding him felt charged. Frenetic. Anything but the indifferent air he attempted to portray. He might project a cool demeanor, but I doubted anything was easygoing about Tamir.
Intense, shiver-inducing eyes were framed above with a prominent brow. Eye contact with him was far more intimate than it was with anyone else. Holding his gaze felt like offering up my soul for his perusal. As if he could see deeper, into the darkest parts of me.
I wasn’t sure casual was even in his vocabulary.
“No previous training. I just grew up with a bunch of boy cousins who kept me on my toes.” We stood two feet apart, forcing me to look up to meet his gaze. Our positioning and his intensity had me fidgeting anxiously with the necklace I always wore. It was a habit I’d tried unsuccessfully to break for years. What I needed to do was grab my stuff, make my excuses, and leave, but my body refused to cooperate.
Tamir lifted his chin as if in understanding, but his eyes still searched for answers to unspoken questions. I wanted to blame his sudden interest on simple flirtation, but Tamir didn’t strike me as the type. He either wanted a woman or he didn’t; there was no need to dance around the subject. If my instincts were correct and he wasn’t flirting, then why had he struck up this little conversation?
“Is that an evil eye on your necklace?”
His question surprised me, making me glance down as if the necklace hadn’t been the same piece of jewelry I’d seen around my neck for the past ten years. “Yes, it is. My tita … my grandma gave it to me a long time ago. Are you familiar with them?”
The small gold pendant was thin and circular with the symbolic eye etched onto its surface. When I got anxious, I rolled the circle side to side between my thumb and finger. It was more of a habit than anything else, but I did find that, on occasion, it reminded me of the woman who raised me and gave me a sense of comfort.
“They’re common where I’m from. Thought to ward off evil, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Has it worked for you?” His voice was a sensual rumble that I could feel just as assuredly as any tangible caress.
“I wish. Then I wouldn’t need these classes.” I inwardly cringed at my choice of words. That was exactly why I shouldn’t be talking to him or anyone, for that matter.
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “What do you mean?”
“That sounded dramatic,” I assured him. “I just meant that if the necklace worked, nothing bad would ever happen, and that’s obviously not a guarantee. I figure the classes are a good source of exercise and give me a useful foundation in self-defense. A girl can never be too careful living in the city.” Words fell from my mouth like water from a burst dam.
Tamir nodded, his lips lifting in a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I agree. Man or woman, it’s always good to be prepared. And your cousins seem to have given you an excellent background in hand-to-hand technique.”
“I’ll make sure to thank them.” I offered him a plastic smile, equally as fake as his own. “I better head out. Great class today, thanks.” I didn’t give him time to respond before I slipped from the studio back into the arctic tundra.
What the hell was I thinking?
Clearly, I hadn’t been thinking at all. As if his chiseled good looks had cast a voodoo spell, making me say whatever inane thing that popped into my mind. I hadn’t been that careless with my words in years, and I had no valid explanation.
Sex. That had to be a part of it. I was only twenty-six years old and hadn’t slept with a man in over a year. Being near any halfway attractive man probably sent my hormones into a tailspin, deregulating my breathing and causin
g a drastic loss of oxygen to the brain. It had nothing to do with Tamir himself and more to do with my own sex-crazed brain.
Right. I didn’t buy that for a second.
Shaking my head, I hustled back to my apartment before my sweat-soaked hair crystalized in the frozen temperatures. Fortunately, I only lived a few blocks from the studio. Not a single thing about my neighborhood was noteworthy. It wasn’t particularly poor or wealthy, nor crowded or abandoned, and no one race or culture dominated. Crime was low, and the rent was reasonable, as far as rent in the city went. It was the perfect place to blend in and disappear.
My standard two-bedroom apartment was more than I thought I’d be able to afford in the city, but it still didn’t feel like home yet. A few more personal touches would help. One of these days, I would settle in and make the place feel like mine. Until then, it served a far more utilitarian function than sentimental.
The place came furnished with the basics, and I hadn’t added much. I could have used what little money I made to add a homey feel to the place, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was temporary. That my attempt at escape was nothing but a childish delusion, and each day was nothing but a countdown until I was dragged back home and made to suffer for my crimes.
At some point, I’d get over that mindset, but I hadn’t reached that place. Instead, I had a basic collection of kitchen supplies, clothes in my closet, and the furniture that came with the place—that was about it. That, and my little green aloe plant with red strings tied to the end of each pointy leaf to help ward off evil. It was the first thing I acquired when I arrived in the city.
My tita always had an aloe plant and swore by their power to keep away evil. Maybe evil had bad skin and hated to moisturize—I had no idea. I didn’t buy into the belief, but I figured having Ned around couldn’t hurt. Ned was my plant’s name. I’d named him after one of The Three Amigos—Ned Nederlander—who was kind but also the best shot in the West. The movie had been my tita’s favorite, so I grew up watching it with her on rainy days. Little Ned was the only “person” I allowed myself to talk to openly; therefore, he’d needed a name. If his powers against evil were to be trusted, then I figured it was only fitting to name him after a famous gunslinger.
Aside from Ned, the small balcony in the back was my favorite part of my apartment. By balcony, I meant fire escape, but it served the same purpose—a chance to be outside and feel the world turning around me. Today, it was too cold to sit out there, but on most days, that was where I relaxed. I brought my laptop with me and pulled up Netflix, or sometimes, I just observed people moving about in the neighborhood behind my building. It was peaceful, as was the knowledge that I could sprint down those stairs should I need to.
Not the best way to live, but it could have been worse. I knew. I’d seen worse.
Shrugging off my coat, I headed straight for the shower to wash away the nasty residue that clung to me from class—both sweat and fear—though one was far easier to be rid of than the other. The memory that had resurfaced during class left an oily smudge in my mind; a greasy imprint that wouldn’t wash away no matter how hard I tried to distract myself.
Between losing myself in the memory and my accidental admission to Tamir, it hadn’t been my finest evening but berating myself wouldn’t help. Even if I’d stirred Tamir’s curiosity, nothing would come of it. By the time I saw him again, I would have fortified my walls and made sure nothing further slipped past my defenses. If I had any luck at all, he would write me off as mildly unstable and lose interest in me entirely.
It wasn’t likely, but a girl could hope.
Chapter 2
Tamir
“I can’t imagine anyone will show up. We should have nearly a foot of snow by the time class ends. Most of the city has already shut down for the night,” Matthew noted, his voice crackling over the phone line. Bad connection. The day before had been cold, but now the city was feeling the full effects of the storm. The winds had started raging a couple of hours before, and snow fell in heavy flakes that blanketed everything in sight.
“I’m sure you’re right. If anyone happens to show up, I’ll let them know class is canceled.” I lived in the apartment above the studio, which made me the most logical person to be there during a snowstorm. The location of my apartment and my extra duties weren’t coincidental; that’s how Matthew paid me. He got to step away from the studio and focus on his family, and I got a roof over my head in a respectable part of town. Not that I couldn’t afford my own place, but this made everything simpler. No paycheck. No taxes. No trail. It was an ideal arrangement for me.
“Sounds good. We’ll see how the night goes and chat in the morning about tomorrow’s classes. Stay inside. It’s cold as hell out there.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, man.”
I ended the call and slipped the phone into my back pocket before taking the stairs down to the studio. The lights were still on from my earlier classes, but the warmth created by exercising bodies had already fled the building. I figured I’d wait at the desk to inform any students who hadn’t seen our email that class had been canceled. I could have simply put a note on the front door and shut down, but I had nothing better to do, so I planted myself at the desk and pulled my phone back out.
I didn’t even have a chance to check the updated forecast when the glass door plowed open and a snow-covered woman bounded inside. Her back was to me as she dusted off the snow, but I knew who it was the second she swept her hood off to reveal jet black hair pulled back in a high ponytail. It reminded me of the sleek black feathers of a raven, glossy and deceptive to the eye.
Most women I encountered were fairly straightforward creatures. They valued personal relationships above most aspects in life, and therefore, put an abundance of value in honesty and appearances. Phones and social media were a staple in their lives in order to maintain those personal connections, and they rarely left the house without a coat of lipstick in case they saw someone they knew. Their mindset was often entirely focused on pleasing the people around them. Nothing was wrong with that orientation, but I found myself unable to relate.
Emily was different.
I knew so because as often as she found herself watching me, I studied her just as intently. Unlike her, I’d had years to master my skills of observation. She had no idea she’d even registered on my radar, but she’d piqued my interest from the moment she first slipped into the back of my class.
It quickly became clear that she didn’t talk with others out of a desire to connect. She did it out of obligation, only engaging in minimal conversations to maintain propriety. When she did speak up, she didn’t seem particularly shy or introverted, so why the reluctance to form attachments to the people she saw on a daily basis?
I rarely found myself curious about a woman, yet the sensation was a welcome reprieve from the monotony of everyday life. Emily slaked the boredom, and in response, I found myself drawn to her. Observing her. Dissecting her every action.
She stilled as she lifted her head and realized the studio was empty. Slowly, she spun around to find me staring at her from behind the desk. Her eyes rounded with surprise, making her look even younger than she already was. The brief glimpse past her carefully constructed walls only lasted a second before she regained her bearings, and her stoic mask, once again, slipped back into place.
“Were classes canceled?” she asked, an octave or so higher than her normal sultry tone. She didn’t intentionally use her voice in a sexual manner, but the natural base and gravel to an otherwise female voice was inescapably seductive. It made me glad she didn’t say a lot in class—a voice like that could distract a man to the point of madness.
“Yeah, Matthew sent out emails, but we knew there was a chance not everyone would receive them.”
“I came straight from work, sorry. Not that I check my email anyway.” She gave an impish smile.
“Not a problem. That’s why I�
�m here.”
Her brows pursed as she scrutinized the empty room. “Well, if you were going to be here, why didn’t we just have class?” Her question could have been deemed argumentative, but when her eyes drifted back to mine, I could tell she was simply curious. Those dark depths contained no malice or irritation.
It was precisely that type of unusual response that had caused her to capture my attention. In a city full of the strange and unusual, she should have simply been one among millions, but something about her stood out to me. Little oddities that gave me pause.
In my experience, different was often synonymous with problematic. In my line of work, outliers were unpredictable variables that needed to be addressed. Not that my work principles were always applicable to the rest of my life, but those instincts couldn’t be turned off. Nor was she necessarily a threat just because I felt like something was off. She could have been hoarding a small army of cats, but that would have had nothing to do with me.
Whatever the source, she intrigued me. In this case, she had posed a question when most would have excused themselves and left, but her point was valid. We were both at the studio at the scheduled time.
I stepped around the desk and leaned back against the elevated front counter. “I suppose, if you still want to train, we can do that.”
Her eyes did an unsteady sweep of the room, and she swallowed uneasily as she seemed to realize the implications of her suggestion. “You know what? That might have been presumptive of me. I’m sure you need to get home before the weather gets worse.”
“Actually, I live upstairs.” I pointed at the ceiling but kept my eyes trained on her. “So unless you need to go, nothing’s stopping us from getting some practice in.” I should have let her retreat. I should have allowed her an out and encouraged her to leave. There were a great many things I should have done, but training alone with her wasn’t one of them. Yet the lure of learning more about her was too sweet a temptation to ignore. I couldn’t help myself.
Where Loyalties Lie Page 2