Rules of Survival(48)

“Died when I was born. It was always just me and the old man.”

“So you left?”

“I had to. He left me alone for those first few days after I got out of the hospital, but fighting back had been a tipping point. If I stayed, he would have killed me. As soon as I could, I packed a bag and never looked back. I lived on the streets for ten months before I stumbled into the alley behind Pat’s building. I was frozen and starving, and beyond messed up. I was violent, and didn’t trust anyone. He put up with a lot from me…but never once did he yell or try to slug me.” A small smile crept across his lips. “When he put me into school, I didn’t really mesh with the other kids. I was always getting into fights—got my ass handed to me, too.”

I couldn’t picture Shaun on the business end of a beating after the things I’d seen. The guy was hard-core. “Seriously?”

“Oh, hell yeah. But Pat spent the weekends teaching me to fight. Teaching me to stand on my own two feet and defend myself.”

“Well, he taught you good. Those were some killer moves back there today. I’m kinda jealous.”

“Don’t be. It’s too easy for me. I’ve never been able to let go of the anger I had as a kid. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had impulse-control issues. I’m better now, but I’ve got a real short fuse.”

I smiled and before I could think twice, rested my hand over his. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You showed more control than I would have dealing with Deeds earlier.” I sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could fight. I’ve always relied on brains, but sometimes that’s just not enough, ya know?”

He glanced around, then got to his feet. “Here. Lemme show you.”

He helped me up and took my free hand in his. “Go ahead. Make a fist.”

I scrunched my fingers into a tight ball, trying hard to concentrate on anything other than the way his skin felt on mine. “Like this?”

“No.” His fingers slipped across my knuckles, warm and slightly rough. The touch sent my pulse through the roof, and I was positive he could hear it—mainly because when I picked my head up to look up at him, he was staring.

I tried to turn away, but there was some unseen force keeping my gaze locked to his. I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind. “Hi…”

He grinned. “Hi.”

Shit. Okay, now what? Apparently my brain cells had leaked out along the way. I needed to speak. Say something that wasn’t stupid. “So, um, my fist is wrong?”

He blinked several times, then nodded. “Oh. Yeah.” Pulling my thumb out, he said, “Has to go on the outside—otherwise you risk breaking it.”

I adjusted my fist and took a deep breath. “Okay. How’s this?”

He nodded. “Better. Okay, first thing to remember is, if you’re going for the face, always aim for the mouth or the nose.”

“Not the cheeks?”

“Nope.” He brought his index finger up and ran it along my cheek—from just beside my nose, to my ear. The touch was feathery soft, but left ripples of heat in its wake. It stirred an odd kind of high that kick-started my heart and left me feeling kind of breathless. In that moment it was hard to remember why I’d put the brakes on last night. “There are a lot of small bones in the hand. You could break something, or worse, collapse your knuckles.”

“Collapse my knuckles? Sounds painful,” I managed to get out.

He moved closer, and I shivered against his nearness, bringing a smile to his lips. He was doing it on purpose. Knowing that it affected me. A part of me thought that was cruel, while another part found it intriguing.

“It is. Spread your legs a little wider.” He bent slightly, left hand skimming the outside of my leg. Even through the thick material of my borrowed oversize sweatpants, I could feel the warmth of his hand gliding down my leg. I bit my lower lip hard so I’d have something else to focus on. Something other than the unbelievably amazing, fluttery feeling in my chest as his hands moved over me.

When he got to my knee, he wrapped his hand around and pulled out lightly. “You want to maintain good balance. Make it impossible for your opponent to knock you over.”

I let him position me where he wanted and held my breath. If I breathed in now, I’d say or do something monumentally embarrassing. I just knew it.

He stood and stepped away as far as the shackles would allow. “You’re small, but I’ve seen you move. You’re quick. And smart. Nine times out of ten, you’re going to be out-muscled—but that doesn’t mean they can take you down. Your best bet is dodging. Even the most powerful guy is thrown off—even if it’s only for a second—when you dodge his blow. It’s all about momentum. Dodge—” His free arm shot out into the air in front of me, sending tendrils of my hair fluttering every which way. “Then strike.”

“Dodge, then strike. Got it.”

He nodded and waved me closer. “Hit me.”

I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “Hit you?”

He flashed me a grin that nearly turned my knees to goop. “Well, try to, anyway.”

“I don’t want to—”

And I swung. My plan was to take him off guard. It didn’t work out that way, though. He twisted to the right and easily avoided the blow. There was even enough time for him to tweak my nose before returning to his original position.