Page 120 of The Bodyguard's Fall

“First thing.” He stood with his arms crossed in a stance meant to intimidate. “I’m not teaching you to win a fight. I’m teaching you how to survive one.”

“Why can’t I do both?”

His gaze moved down my arms, which were also crossed against my chest, and I couldn’t help but flex my biceps. He didn’t look impressed.

“You’ll have to prove you can first.”

“I’ve gotten a few shots on you.”

“No, you got—” He stopped abruptly, looking so charmingly worked up that it was hard to look away. “No. We’re not doing the little back-and-forth thing right now. You need to stop distracting me and concentrate.”

“Of course,” I said demurely.

“That’s an order, Rawlins.”

“That’s not my name anymore,” I shot back, just to see his reaction.

Exasperation. All over his face. My favorite kind, especially when an annoyed head tilt accompanied it.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?” I asked.

“You know what. Stop it.”

I leveled my gaze with his. “Make me.”

He stared at me for a long moment, delightfully vexed. “Put your hands up.”

“Are you going to arrest me, Officer?” I asked, thrilled by the thought.

He sent another look my way that made me bite back a laugh, then motioned to the way his hands were raised up, like he was fighting in a boxing ring. Apparently it was time. I picked up my gloves and followed suit, unable to resist dancing on the balls of my feet and throwing out a few jabs into the air.

Tate stopped one of my punches with the palm of his hand, holding it steady. “Let me be absolutely clear. This is a last resort. Your first objective is to get away using the techniques we went over a few weeks ago. Scratch, claw, kick, make noise, and go for all the places to take a man down. But if that’s not possible, then…” He trailed off.

“I’m so glad you have such confidence in my ability.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. It’s just that I don’t know how much time we have to invest.” He nodded toward me. “Hands up again. Protect your face. Elbows in. I’ve taught you punches and jabs, but now we’re going to learn how to do a combination move. One hand in front and one in back.”

I followed his instructions, and he nodded approvingly at my attempt.

“Okay, the first thing you want to do is the jab.” He stepped back and threw a straightforward punch as a demonstration. I mirrored his actions. “Its sole purpose is to create distance between you and your attacker. If you happen to land a solid punch and it throws him off balance, you turn and run for help. But mostly this is the decoy move.”

He eyed me like he was waiting for me to protest. Instead, I practiced my jabs and was decently proud when he watched me without correcting.

“I told you I was good at this,” I said.

He ignored me.

“Your next move, if you haven’t run away yet, is your power move. This is coming from the fist in the back. If the jab’s the decoy, this is the money shot.” He eyed what I could only assume were my pathetic muscles and added, “Hopefully.”

In the middle of throwing a few punches, one right after the other, Tate stepped closer and put his hands on my stomach. My stomach tightened automatically, and my eyes flew to his.

“Get that look off your face. Don’t read into this,” he warned.

“Read into what?” I asked, all innocence.

He ignored me, keeping a light but firm grip and angling my body in a way that he claimed would allow for the most power in my throw.