Vow of Honor (Vow Series Book 3)

by Emma Renshaw

  His eyes flick down to me before looking at the house again as we slowly walk up the driveway. "You're drunk. I'm not just going to dump you on the sidewalk."

  "I'm not that drunk."

  He shrugs and continues walking toward my door. Our arms brush slightly, making electricity course through my body. Just a small brush of skin, and I'm electrified. It's not James, Tate. It's his muscles. Patrick is in good shape, but he's no James.

  When we reach my door, James leans against the jamb, waiting for me to unlock it. I pull my keys out of my purse, flipping slowly through each one before landing on my house key.

  I don't know why, but I don't want to walk away from him quite yet. I look up into his eyes that, for once, aren't glaring at me. They're just watching me. My eyes move down to the keys in my hands as I take a deep breath, my shoulders rising and falling dramatically.

  A rush of gratitude floods my system for James. Tonight has been perfect. I need this. I need new friends, and his group of friends is amazing. "Thanks for letting me come tonight."

  "Free country," he replies quietly before clearing his throat. "It wasn't as torturous as I thought it would be." He's not smiling, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. The gray is sparkling like crystal.

  "Your company wasn't horrible, either," I say, unable to stop the smile from taking over my face. He doesn't know what tonight meant to me. I rush him, hugging him around his waist and squeezing him tightly.

  His arms stay at his side for a long moment before wrapping me in a tight, warm hug. James’s nose and mouth come down to the top of my head.

  "Really, thank you."

  "Nothing to thank me for, Tatum," he says softly against my hair.

  He's so wrong about that. If I weren’t drunk, I wouldn't be touching him right now. I'm sure he's only placating me because I’m wasted and obviously in need of friends.

  I lean back, not letting go of his waist. He's staring down at me. My eyes move to his full lips, watching them open and close. Twice. Before I find myself leaning in toward him, something I would never do under normal circumstances.

  James’s hands come down on my shoulders, gently removing me from his hard body. Mortification sets in, but I'm determined to play it off as if I wasn't about to launch myself at him and kiss him. This is James. He annoys me. I annoy him. Nope. It's the alcohol.

  "Goodnight, Tatum," he says, stepping away from me and down the sidewalk, waiting there until I let myself inside.

  Chapter 13

  James

  "If you're so tough, then why don't you do it?" Corbin barks out, his chest heaving up and down. It's been a delicate balance of showing him the correct way to move his body with the weights. Each time I tweak his form, he takes it personally.

  "Can't," I mutter.

  His jaw clenches. "Then why are you teaching me? You don't know what you're talking about."

  "I do know," I insist. "Doctors orders. Can't lift weights until my PT is over."

  Corbin scans me from head to toe, looking for an injury. But my scars are beneath my shirt. He won't be able to see them.

  "What happened?"

  I open my mouth to tell him it's none of his business, but I'm trying to get him to trust me. So far, I'm failing. No one would accuse me of being a people person, but working with him is important. To get him to trust me and listen to me, I'll have to be more open than I'd like with this kid.

  "Took a couple bullets," I respond.

  His eyes get huge. "No shit?"

  I nod.

  "Did it hurt?" he asks quietly, still scanning my body, looking for the wounds.

  "Yeah, it fuckin' hurt," I answer honestly. "That's why you need to listen to me. You say you got talent on the field. I believe it, kid. If you fuck up in a gym, you'll ruin your muscles and ligaments and your chances of playing. Most kids at your school end up in gangs, right?"

  Corbin looks down at his tattered shoes, not giving him nearly the support his feet need. I wouldn't be surprised if his toes are curled, just so he can wear them. I'd dig through the lost-and-found at school and local churches for clothes. I was a paycheck to every foster parent I had. Not a doubt in my mind that it’s the same for Corbin. When I hit my growth spurt and started to gain muscle mass, I grew out of my clothes quickly. I couldn't button my jeans, so I'd duct tape them to my body so they wouldn't fall. I did that until I stole clothes from a clothing drive.

  I bought him new shoes, but today he’s not wearing them. He said he lost them, but avoided eye contact with me when he said that. I told him I’d have another pair for him next time he shows up. I don’t know if they were stolen, taken by his foster parents, or he sold them for extra money, but it’s clear he doesn’t have them anymore.

  "Yeah, there's gangs," he answers with utmost honesty. I have a feeling he's only rewarding me with this honesty because I was honest with him.

  "We're going to make sure you don't end up in that, and you're going to get your chance to get yourself out," I say, putting my hand on his neck and squeezing. "Things don't happen to you. You make them fuckin' happen. You make it happen. You're in charge of your destiny. Fuck fate. Make it yours."

  "All right," he mutters, taking a deep breath. I release his neck, waiting for him to gather himself. He shakes his head once before looking up at me, square in the eye. "I'm not stupid, though."

  "Kid, I never said you were stupid. If I need to tweak your position, it doesn't mean you’re stupid. Just like everything else in life, you have to learn the best way, the right way. You are not stupid, Corbin."

  His chest expands, and his shoulders roll back as he stands at his full height, taking more pride in himself than I've seen. Satisfaction swells in my chest. I'd have done anything to have one adult care when I was his age. The only person I had was my best friend. We met when we were foster brothers. When I was his age, I thought I’d end up dead or in jail at some point, I didn’t know that I would own something of my own that I’d take pride in. I will make damn sure I help as many kids like me as I can, show them they can have whatever they want if they work for it and keep their nose to the grindstone, ignoring outside influences.

  "James," I hear Savannah call out. I turn my head, watching her walk across the gym toward me.

  "Damn," Corbin mutters under his breath. I cut him a glare. He just shrugs.

  "Hi, gummy bear," Savannah says, wrapping her arms around my waist. I roll my eyes, bringing her into a tight hug.

  "Savannah."

  "Gummy bear?" Corbin asks, laughing. "You let your girl call you gummy bear?"

  "Not my girl," I say.

  "Like he could control me," Savannah says sassily, cocking her hip and smiling at Corbin.

  "You single?" Corbin asks.

  I turn toward him. "Kid, you're fourteen."

  "Doesn't hurt to try," Corbin says, grinning playfully, looking like a real kid for the first time. His expression is young, goofy, and carefree.

  "Sorry," Savannah says, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm married and pregnant. Also, way too old for you."

  "Again, doesn't hurt to try."

  Savannah pulls her hand away, and Corbin's hand immediately covers the spot hers just left. He's staring at her with big, round eyes and a happy smile. Leave it to a pretty girl to make this surly kid happy.

  "What's up?" I ask Savannah.

  She turns fully toward me, beaming. Her smile is so wide that I know she's about to ask for something. My intuition is confirmed when she opens her mouth. "I need a favor."

  I stare at her as her smile grows impossibly wider. She knows she has me. I don't think I've ever told this girl no.

  "This has been the first week that my morning sickness hasn't knocked me on my ass. Liam just finished a huge project at work and wants to take me on a date night. The last time we went out was over a week ago when Tate met us at the bar."

  "Okay," I say, wondering why she's filling me in on date nights with her husband.

  "I'm teaching the wom
en's self-defense class tonight, remember?"

  Shit. I completely forgot that Savannah asked to teach a beginner's self-defense class for women. It's something I host every few weeks, but Savannah wanted to get involved with the teaching aspect of it. I never forget about anything that's happening at my gym; I can't believe this slipped my mind.

  "Can you take it over? Just this once?"

  "Isn't this your first class tonight?"

  "Yes, but I wanted you there, in case I needed help. I couldn’t do much by myself anyway since I’m pregnant. Please. I miss my husband. He's been working so hard." Her eyes grow huge and round.

  I look away before she asks for anything else. "Sure," I mutter. "What time?"

  "Seven," she says, rising on her toes to kiss my cheek. "You're the best surrogate brother a girl could ask for, lollipop."

  A snort escapes Corbin when Savannah utters her ridiculous nickname for me. She tries to outdo herself every time she sees me. Savannah is the only person on this planet that I would let get away with it. When she started, I didn't stop her because she was broken from her past. The first time I saw her smile was when she called me a stupid name. Who am I to deny a broken girl something so small? Now that she's this badass chick standing in front of me, she's refused to break the habit.

  "Have fun," I say, squeezing her once before she hustles out of the gym. I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time. I have a little over an hour before women will start arriving for the class.

  One good thing about taking over this class, I won't have to fight with Corbin today about food. He came in last week with his stomach growling. He hadn't eaten all day but didn't want to accept a handout from me. I've been thinking of ways to help him without making it seem like a handout.

  "Can you help me out?" I say.

  "With what?" he asks. "I don't know how to teach self-defense."

  "I need to get ready for the class, so won't have time to grab dinner. Will you go pick something up for me? Grab yourself something, too, for your trouble."

  He rolls his lips between his teeth. "You don't need to buy me dinner."

  "I would pay you for the errand, anyway. You said your foster were working the night shift. Now you don't have to cook something for yourself, and you'd be doing me a solid."

  I watch him think it over carefully before he nods. "Sure."

  I'm throwing padded mats on the floor in one of the back rooms when I hear her voice.

  "James," Tatum says from behind me. I turn around to find her standing in the doorway. She has a tight tank top on paired with yoga pants that are perfectly molded to her body. A gym bag is slung over her shoulder, and her grip is so tight around the handle, I can see her knuckles turning white.

  "Tatum," I greet before turning back to the mats, straightening them even though they don't need it. I just need something to do with my hands before I either strangle Tatum for continually encroaching my space or run my hands up and down her curves. It will be one or the other.

  She stands there silently without entering the room. She hasn't signed up for a gym membership, so I'm not really sure why she's here. I glance at her in the mirrors on the walls. If I'm not mistaken, her eyes are glued to my ass.

  "What are you doing here, Tatum?"

  Her eyes fly up, meeting mine in the mirror, her cheeks turning red. I hold my smirk at bay. "Meeting Savannah. She talked me into a self-defense class."

  "Christ," I mutter. "I'm teaching the class."

  Tatum shakes her head. "No, Savannah is. I'm in her class. Is that somewhere else?" She looks over her shoulder as if she is in the wrong place.

  "Sav asked me to take it over."

  "Oh," she says quietly, her hand gripping the strap on the bag flung over her shoulder as she rocks back on her heels. The last time I saw her do that was at the grocery store in those crazy slippers.

  "She'll be teaching another one in a couple of weeks."

  I wait for her to turn around and walk away. That night after the bar, I know she would have kissed me if I didn't step away. I'm just not sure if she was doing it to keep getting under my skin or if she actually wanted it. Each time I see her, I feel like she's taunting me and testing my will.

  "I'll...I'll stay."

  I turn my head over my shoulder. "Why?"

  She shrugs. "Could be fun."

  Yep, she's definitely here to torture me.

  I start the class a few minutes after seven, running through basic drills, only touching the women when it's necessary. Unfortunately, when I task everyone to find a partner, Tatum is the only one left without one. She didn't even look for one; the class knew that one woman would be left without since there’s eleven women here. Tatum stands in the center of the room, meeting my stare.

  I stride toward her, positioning myself behind her, but not touching her yet.

  “Many attackers will attack from behind,” I say to the class. “Decide who is playing the attacker first and that person needs to come up from behind wrapping their arm over the neck of your partner.”

  Tatum's light scent fills my nostrils as I wrap my arm around her tiny neck. Our cheeks are right next to each other, her heavy breaths making my arm rise and fall quickly.

  “If you are trapped in this position, you’ll want to hit a few areas to make a fast getaway. Once you break free, run. Run like hell. First, mimic stomping on his foot with the heel of yours as hard as possible.” Tatum lifts her leg which pushes her butt back into me. I hold back a groan. I run through the rest of the maneuvers, trying my hardest not to focus on Tatum’s body against me. Tatum freezes feeling our position and where she’s landing on me. She leans into me more making our bodies flush to each other.

  "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I quietly growl in her ear.

  Chapter 14

  Tatum

  James’s gruff voice hisses in my ear. The stubble on his cheek scrapes against my cheek, causing a small shiver to run up my spine. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I'm learning how to get away from an attacker. He's pretending to be an attacker, and somehow I'm feeling turned on. Only slightly, though. Slightly turned on…

  That's a major lie. I'm majorly fucking turned on. His massive, muscular chest is against my back while his clean, masculine scent invades my nose. And the stubble. Oh my. I mean, I've read about the stubble scrapes between a woman's thighs in romance novels. I always thought that sounded like it would hurt, but right now with him against my cheek, I want to feel that.

  Feel it in general. Not from James. The growly, grouchy, burly man behind me isn’t actually who I want. This is just a generalization. It's just been too long. Yeah, that's it. I'd feel this way with any attractive guy behind me. And, for the record, I wasn't checking out his ass, earlier.

  "Doing what on purpose?" I whisper.

  "Torturing me." His voice is husky, and I feel his breath caress my skin as he rubs his nose along my cheek.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, my hands sliding up to his arm around my neck. All the other women in the class are practicing the moves he taught us while we're standing here in this hold, whispering to each other.

  "Bullshit," he mutters in my ear. "You're doing all this to annoy me."

  Annoy him? If he would have acted like a considerate human being the first time we met, I wouldn't enjoy getting a rise out of him. He's so silent and hard to crack, I can't help that I find it fun to try. I don't try to annoy him, though, or torture him. He's torturing me by never speaking, only growling in our PT sessions unless he's lobbing an insult my way.

  We both breathe deeply. I don't know what's going through his head, but I'm lost in his touch and heady scent. My nipples are puckered beneath my sports bra, and the more turned on I get, the more irritated I become with myself. With him.

  "Get out of the hold," he whispers furiously. That's when I know he's feeling the same thing. There’s something completely captivating about being this close to him, surrounded by ever
ything that is him. His scent fills my nose, his warm body is pressed against mine, and his deep and rich voice is intoxicating. I need to stop forgetting that I don’t like him.

  My foot comes down hard on top of his. Satisfaction rolls through me when I hear him grunt. I'm careful of his shoulder with the rest of my moves. When he releases me, we stare at each other. His eyes are smoldering with heat and hate.

  He rakes a hand through his hair, muttering curses while glaring at me. "Get out of my head."

  Get out of his head? He needs to get out of my head. There’s no way he’s thinking the same things about me.

  James marches to the front of the room, instructing the class on the next exercise and insisting everyone change partners. When I end up alone again, he asks one of the women to break up their duo and pair with him. I stumble my way through the different holds and scenarios, unable to take my eyes off him. Jealously flares through my belly every time he gets close to someone else in the class. I want him to look my way once. That's it. I want to feel like I'm not alone in this insane situation we've gotten ourselves into.

  He doesn’t.

  As the class continues, he walks around correcting stances and postures, but avoids me the entire time. I even know I'm messing things up because I'm too distracted by his deep voice floating through the room and watching the way other women react when he's near. My eyes scan his facial features and body language, wondering if he's aware of any of them.

  His easy command of the room excites me in a completely foreign way. In PT he throws verbal jabs at me, but easily listens to each of my commands, but in this room, he’s in charge. Even at The Cellar as he sat there mostly silent, his presence couldn’t be ignored. Every woman in this room is hanging on his every word working as hard as they can to prove their worth through the maneuvers he’s teaching.

  His husky voice is even deeper the louder he talks, but he’s not intimidating to anyone in here. I’m completely at ease in his hulking presence and I know every other woman in here is, too.