The owner walked by shirtless and waved to us both. “You guys here for a few rounds? I’ll jump in to spar in thirty if you got time.”
“Nah.” Dante shook his head. “Katie and I got to get dressed and train before we head out pretty quick. I’ll hit you up later.”
He winked at us and kept moving, eyeing up other members. The sweat in the air and the music pumping through the gym had me beelining to the lockers to get changed. My body yearned for workouts now. I craved getting knocked around and finding a way to get back up again.
Dante had begun training me when we’d first met. It’d started as self-defense. He’d called me tiny at a meeting, and I’d responded with some barb about how I’d find a way to take him down. He’d laughed and then offered to teach me. If he was in town, he called religiously to make sure I was meeting him at the gym.
I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and eyed the bandage on my ribs from the tattoo. Pain wasn’t too bad there today, but if I wanted it to heal correctly, we’d have to be careful.
“Got a tattoo last night,” I announced as I walked onto the mat in my tennis shoes and compression leggings.
My tight white tank didn’t hide the bandaging too well, and Dante pointed at it. “What’d you get?”
“Just a quote to add to some ink I already had.” I stretched my arms by pulling one close to my chest and then shaking it out before I did the same with the other.
“Hope it’s inspiring.” Dante went through the same motions.
“It’s either that or depressing.”
He chuckled and got on the ground with me to do a butterfly stretch. “Aren’t they all?”
I nodded, and we continued to loosen our muscles for about five minutes.
“You probably need some more self-defense lessons.”
I whipped my head up from looking down at my legs. “They told you?”
“Girl, everyone knows. You’re our bait. No one gets to mess with you without repercussions.”
I fell back on the mat with a growl. “Where’s the damn confidence in me or at least the confidentiality for some of the stuff I do? Mario embarrasses me by sharing every single incident in my life with the family.”
He poked me in the stomach. “Embarrassed by what, huh? We’re here to protect you. How’s that head of yours after getting knocked out?”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
Dante had mastered a lot over the years, and one of those things was attacking when his victim least expected. His hand struck down onto my throat where he crushed my windpipe. Before I had time to react, he grabbed my hair and my head flew to the ground, but his hand was there to catch my skull before delivering any damage. It jarred me, rocked me, made me remember how quickly I could be caught off guard.
Would they miss me? Would they really always be there to protect me?
Or would I have to protect myself?
I knew the answer. Deep down, everyone knew the answer about the family.
I hooked my hand onto his wrists, making sure my thumb stayed aligned with my forefinger instead of wrapping around his arm like I had always wanted to do in the past. Dante had shown me that it was never good to have my thumb lingering on the other side of his arm. If for some reason the attacker yanked away fast, it could dislocate and leave me even more at their mercy. Instead, I had a stronger grip by keeping my whole hand together. I brought down as much weight as I could with my elbows onto his forearms. He didn’t budge, so I lifted my hips and then brought them down with my elbows that time. I got just enough oxygen to keep moving by dislodging his hands somewhat.
I was small, agile, and flexible. I brought my legs up onto his hips and shoved him back hard. Normally, the next move would have been to grab his forearms as he slid away from my shove and try to hold him somewhat in place to kick his face, but I let him go, scrambled to my feet and motioned for him to come at me. “See how quick you can be now.”
He smiled at me like I’d invited his devil out to play. Then he lunged. I blocked his first two punches and dodged a kick. I took the momentum from it and rounded to kick his knees.
He always had me beat, though, and today was no different. The man was trained to fight, to kill, to never be caught in a compromising position. He grabbed the leg I’d brought him down with while it was still in motion and shoved it up so high, I landed on my back, wind whooshing out of me, leaving me gasping.
I closed my eyes and let Dante laugh at me wincing at the pain. “Damn, Dante. That hurt the tattoo,” I moaned.
I opened my eyes to see him standing over me. “You’re a liar. The pain is only in your pride.”
“Go away or help me up.”
He took two steps back. “Little one, you only learn by getting up yourself and making sure you face your opponent again. The one who falls down over and over is the strongest of all in the end.”