Have I ever voluntarily been up this early? I stayed up with Petr for days straight in the hospital, but this is different. This is camp. I need coffee and a hot shower before I’m ready to start my day. I’m not sure why I’m staggering around the room getting dressed as quickly as possible. I’d like to think it’s because the kids might need me.
But I’m pretty sure it’s because my sleepy mind is listening to Captain Mathis’ curt order.
With a sigh, I sweep my hair up into a ponytail and walk through the dorm, emerging into a chilly morning. In shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, I’m shivering by the time I make it to the place he calls the pit.
The kids are doing laps. I slow and stare, surprised to see them running around the pit while Captain Mathis stands with someone else in the center. He’s dressed similarly in short shorts that reveal the long, thick thighs of a swimmer.
He had to have nice thighs.
More irritated at him, I fold my arms across my chest and approach. The easy smile on his face fades when he catches sight of me. I can almost see him tense. The woman with him, who I recognize from yesterday, turns to face me.
“Good morning,” Captain Harper says with a smile. Perky and alert, she looks the opposite of how I feel.
“Morning,” I respond.
“Now that your partner’s here, I’ll take off,” she says to Captain Mathis. “Have fun!”
She leaves, taking with her the cheerful atmosphere.
Captain Mathis and I gaze at each other.
“Five o’clock,” he begins.
“If you have coffee ready at that hour, I’ll consider it.”
His jaw clenches. “Do you have any self-defense training?”
“No. Baba said that’s why I had two brothers.”
“Everyone should know something,” Captain Mathis replies. “I know you can slap. Punch?”
I almost smile but shake my head.
“This will be interesting,” he states and beckons me towards him. “I want to teach the kids some basics.”
“Train them to kill young?” I ask, glaring at him.
Captain Mathis watches the running kids. “Train them to take care of themselves. A sense of vulnerability often comes with the death of a loved one. It might help build confidence and …” He faces me and stops.
The awkward silence is heavy. I’m trying to keep my face expressionless, but not emoting is not my forte. It’s too early to hide the pain I feel at the reminder. Captain Mathis searches my face briefly with his brown eyes then takes a step towards me.
It’s hard for me not to want to scream every time we stumble on even the most innocent inference to Mikael’s death. I can’t forget that my brother isn’t coming home because of the man standing in front of me.
“It’ll be good for you to learn,” he says and rests his hands on my shoulders, shifting my body. He squares me to face him. “This is a good stance for you for our drills.”
“Because somehow this will help me forget Mikael’s death?” I challenge.
Every once in a while, something sparks in his eyes that makes me think I’ve hit some emotion. Just as quickly, it’s gone.
“No, Katya,” he says quietly. “Because everyone should know the basics.” He drops his hands.
I watch him move away.
“Fall in!” he belts to the kids.
They scramble to face him, lining up from tallest to shortest.
“My god! They look like the Von Trapp kids,” I say, shaking my head.
Captain Mathis ignores me. “Pair up and gather around,” he instructs the six sleepy members of our team. “We’re going to do some self-defense training.”
Returning to me, he addresses the kids.
“First lesson of self-defense. Escape if you can. Don’t fight someone bigger or stronger. Got it?”
The kids nod.
“Second, if you have to defend yourself, remember the parts of the body that work well as weapons: Meat of your palm. Fist. Elbow. Forehead. Hips. Knees. Heels.” He raises or points to each as he speaks slowly. “Got it?” He repeats them, and the kids mirror his movement. “Now, put one of those in the part of a body where it hurts to get hit. Throat, eyes, groin, solar plexus, toes, fingers.”
I assess him as I listen. The kids seem entranced.
He talks them through a few things, and I try to pay attention. But in truth, I’m feeling the lack of caffeine and having trouble concentrating. Jenna giving a shriek startles me, and I jerk out of my thoughts.
She’s in a fighting stance, pretending to kick an invisible opponent. The other kids laugh, and Captain Mathis is smiling. He kneels down in front of her.
“See how balanced she is?” he asks, pushing her shoulder gently. “Something to remember. Always keep your feet on the ground and maintain your balance.”
My goodness, she’s adorable with her fierce scowl.
“Let’s start with a few scenarios. Remember what I told you?” he asks, standing. “You’re at the mall and someone grabs you.”
He beckons to me, and I approach reluctantly, certain I’m about to become the crash test dummy. Captain Mathis circles me and wraps both arms around me. The move shocks me, as much from the sudden impact of our bodies, as the hardness and strength behind me. I was expecting a punch, not a full-body connection.
The strange sensations that overwhelm my thinking throw me into complete awareness without coffee. Touching him is like downing a shot of whiskey. My blood is on fire, my senses scattered. I’m no longer cold this early, not with his body heat finding its way through my clothing. It’s hard not to want to melt against him, to relax in his arms and know without a doubt he’s strong enough to support me.
Thank god he’s talking to the kids. It takes me a minute to switch my focus from how solid he is to his low voice.
“…take a step forward.”
I realize he’s talking to me. I do what he says and feel his body weight shift to me.
“Kick him in the crunchies!” one of the kids cries.
“Crunchies?” I echo. Realizing what he means, I start to laugh.
“Not the best position to try that,” Captain Mathis says, amused. “What else can she do?”
“Elbow!” someone says.
“Okay. Try to move your elbow.”
I wriggle and pull, but he’s got my arms pinned solidly against me.
“So that won’t work. What next?” he asks.
“Stomp on his foot!”
“Try it,” he tells me.
I do.
The kids clap.
Eventually, he gives the steps for how to get free. Not that I’ll remember them. I’m a little too … aware of him to recall anything. But for the next hour, his hands don’t leave my body. He’s more patient than I expect, walking the kids through scenarios over and over until they get it. As strong and detail oriented as he is, he’s also gentle with me, positioning my body and shifting me around with absolutely none of the awkwardness that I feel.
In fact, I’d say he doesn’t notice me any more than he would one of his men.
When the hour training is up, he moves away from me. My body is humming with uncomfortable warmth that makes me wish I had the guts to wear a t-shirt instead of a long sleeved shirt. I haven’t worn anything but long sleeves out in public since I was thirteen, after the kids at school made fun of my scars.
The kids are being sent on a run around the pit once more. Captain Mathis watches them, hands on hips.
“This isn’t boot camp,” I remind him. I want to fan myself but know better than to give him any sort of sign I’m attracted to him.
“You’ll thank me when they’re in bed at eight while the other teams are up past midnight,” he replies. “They’ll be easier to manage throughout the day this way.”
“Are we going to start every day this way?” I ask.
He glances at me then back. “If learning self-defense keeps you from biting my head off, we might.”
I glare at him.
“Though, I wonder if you were so quiet because you wanted to learn how to take me out?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe.” There’s no way in hell I’d ever admit to him the real reason: that I was distracted by his body too much to say anything. “You are a half-decent instructor.” Hoping mind reading isn’t something he learned in the Marines, I follow the kids with my gaze, my face warm.
“If Harris ever gets too fresh, you know what to do.”
There’s an edge in his voice that’s reflected in his gaze. I’m not sure what he’s saying – or why he seems tense once more.
I spot movement through the trees and see Riley and Brianna walking with their kids through the camp, towards the dining hall.
Captain Mathis broke Petr’s body, but that woman broke the hearts of both my brothers. Not to mention she likes to embarrass me. What the hell does any man in his right mind see in her?
“Is it safe to assume you know more than self-defense?” I ask thoughtfully.
“I can snap a man’s neck in a few different ways. Is Harris that much of an issue?”
“What the hell?” I stare at him.
He’s not joking.
“Harris is my business,” I reply. “Why you and my brother are fixated on him …” I shake my head. “No. I just … no. How the hell did you get from knowing how to hit someone to snapping necks?”
He shrugs. “In my line of work, I never rule out the possibility.”
“This is reality, Captain Mathis. There’s no snapping necks here.” I can’t even imagine …
My eyes go to his large hands, the same hands that were on my body not ten minutes before. That he can be so gentle and so lethal is really kind of freaky.
My brothers never told me what happened on their missions overseas, and I’m beginning to understand why. I can’t fathom an existence where you might have to kill someone with your bare hands!
“Sometimes things escalate more quickly than you expect,” he adds at my stunned silence.
Meeting his gaze again, I find myself wondering if he’s talking strictly about war or something else.
Don’t be an idiot.
As if feeling the weird tension between us, he clears his throat. “What do you want to know?” he asks, moving closer. “I thought you were a peace loving liberal.”
“I am, but every once in a while you meet someone who needs a good punch,” I reply and cross my arms.
“Someone like … me?”
I look him up and down, already suspecting it’d be more trouble than it’s worth to try. Though I might like it if he wrestled me down …
Stop it, Katya!
“Not this time,” I reply.
“You have someone in mind.”
“None of your business. I need to know how to punch someone a couple of times,” I answer.
He’s eyeing me warily. “Who and why?”
“You said everyone needs to know the basics.” I point out. “What do you care who I punch? And don’t tell me because we’re a team. I can wait until you’re gone to do it!”
“The basics of self-defense are important for getting yourself out of trouble, not into it,” he replies.
“So you won’t show me?”
“Not until you tell me why.”
I’ve never had to answer to anyone in my life, even my father. There’s no way I’m answering to him. “Never mind. One of the other guys will show me.”
Captain Mathis seems to debate silently, studying me. I’m not about to crack and tell him. As if sensing so, he relents. He steps close enough for me to feel his body heat and takes my wrist.
“I recommend not punching. You’re just as likely to hurt yourself as someone else,” he starts. “But if you insist, keep your wrist braced.” He straightens mine and places his hand around it. “Completely straight. Make a tight fist.”
I do.
“Thumb here. You want to hit with the first two knuckles.” He taps the two he means.
I watch carefully, trying to take in everything from how it looks to how it feels.
“So I have to have a straight shot basically,” I murmur. It seems more complicated than I thought. “You’ve hit real people?”
“Yeah.” He meets my gaze. “It’s not pretty, Katya. You can shatter your wrist or break a finger if you do it wrong.”
Ugh.
“You’re better off learning some solid self-defense skills.”
“What if something escalates?” I ask. “Friendly chat one minute then everything explodes.”
Holding my closed fist in both of his, he’s gazing at me.
Heat flutters through me once more, and I realize what I’ve said. Or maybe, how it could be taken, if he’s remotely affected by me the same way I am by him.
Which he can’t be, because he’d have to be human first to have emotions.
“There’s usually something to spark it,” he responds quietly. “Explosions don’t just happen.”
What the hell are we talking about?
I’m not sure, but my stomach is turning over and my pulse is racing beneath his direct gaze. Uncertain how to respond, I tug my hand free and move away.
“It’s getting close to breakfast, and we all need showers,” I say, turning away.
Captain Mathis clasps his hands behind his back and moves towards the center of the pit.
“Fall in!” he orders.
The kids scramble into a line in front of him, panting.
“Tanner, lead them back to the barracks,” he orders the tallest boy.
He walks beside the line of kids, while I trail, trying to get my head on straight once more. It doesn’t help that I keep looking at his nice thighs and trying to remember when the last time I went out on a date was.
Before Mikael died.
Almost instantly, I’m sad again.