Pas de Deux: Part One (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 1) (14 page)

“There’s ground work, yes. But I have to teach that, because the majority of attacks on women, rapes and stuff, happen on the ground.”

Sammi seemed to go a little pale. She looked away and cleared her throat, busying herself with winding her earbuds into a neat bundle around her fingers.

Why are her hands shaking?

“The women I’m catering to aren’t MMA stars,” Cillian went on, watching her closely. “The point is to show them that they can be effective without being ninjas. I can take you through a few sample drills now, just to show you it’s not that hard.”

“I don’t know, Cillian.”

He nodded and shrugged. “All right. I won’t push you—it’s okay. By the way, gettin’ ready to close up shop here.” He gave her a little smile and turned to walk away.

“Wait.”

Cillian stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder.

Sammi looked at him, taking a deep breath. “I-I’ll do it. I suppose I…owe you a favor, anyway.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Appreciate the help. Meet me in the ring.”

Cillian climbed into the ring and pulled the ropes back, waiting for her as she hopped up beside him, stepping carefully through them. She hugged herself as he moved into the center of the ring.

“I’m gonna show you how to hit angles.” Sammi stepped toward him uncertainly, and he smirked and reached out, pulling gently at one of her arms. “You have to put your arms down. Stand like this.” He showed her a proper, basic fighting stance and she complied, standing with her feet in a wide stance and angled slightly.

“Now, I’m gonna come toward you, and I want you to turn your body slightly and shove your hands against my shoulder, pushing off and throwing me to the side. This is effective for when an attacker is coming at you head-on. You hit your angle, shove him away, and run.”

He demonstrated slowly, turning his body away from her, stepping up to her side, and using his hands to push at her shoulder, sending her stumbling back several steps as he moved away. She nodded, and he resumed his place in the center of the ring, facing her head on.

“Okay, let’s try it. I’m gonna rush you, and you hit your angles.”

She nodded. “Come at me, bro,” she said quietly with a little smirk, and when he got it, he laughed, surprised.

Nice Jersey Shore douche-bag reference. Well played, Funny Sad Girl.

Sammi demonstrated, and he nodded his approval. “That was good. Easy?”

“Yep. Easy.”

They practiced that several more times, before Cillian showed her how to take it to the next level by reaching up to grab an assailant by the back of the head, yank it down, and ram it with the knee. He grabbed a padded helmet with a front cover guard on it from the office and returned to the ring, slipping it on.

“Really go for it. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

Sammi hit the angle and then whirled to the side, grasping the back of his head and yanking it down, while bringing her knee up to the front of his helmet. They repeated it over and over, and then he showed her how to block.

“Great job. You learn fast. Now, I wanna show you how to get out of a hold.”

Cillian was working up a sweat, and Sammi was finally starting to loosen up. She genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself, and he could tell she was growing more empowered with every new thing he taught her.

He moved in front of Sammi, giving her his back. “All right. Put me in a hold.” He stood, waiting, and after a moment, glanced over his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“Huh?” Sammi’s head snapped up, meeting his gaze, her cheeks flushed.

“What’s wrong? Grab me.”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” Her arms slid around him gingerly.

He shook his head. “Sammi, grab me like you mean it, otherwise this won’t work.” Her arms tightened around him, and he wiggled slightly, testing the strength of her grasp, satisfied.

“Say someone comes up behind you and pins your arms to your sides. Swing one of your legs in a giant step backward, plant it right behind their leg, and throw your hip to put them off-balance. Then you can start throwing elbows, breaking the hold, getting away. Or you can try twisting out of their grasp like this.” He showed her, and she nodded. “Let’s try it again.”

She repositioned her arms, and he swung his leg behind hers, pushing with his hip. Then, in a flash of mischievousness he couldn’t help, he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her, and took her down to the mat. He leaned over her and grinned as her eyes went wide, the air rushing out of her lungs from the impact. She let out a breathless laugh.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He hopped to his feet and held out a hand to help her up, which she ignored and rolled to her feet.

“You know I’m gonna get you back for that. I don’t know how, but it’s gonna happen.”

“Come at me, bro.” He smirked and motioned her into the center of the ring. “Now, I’ll show you some ground techniques. Let’s say an attacker is on top of you, inside your guard. You can buck him off, plant your feet, and roll him over. When he’s on his back, you can use your shoulder to pin his right against the brachial nerve, and he’ll pass right out.”

“That really works?” She lifted a brow skeptically. “What if the guy outweighs me by a hundred pounds?”

“The whole point is that you don’t need a ton of strength. Here, I’ll show you.” He lowered himself to his knees and motioned her down. “You can be the attacker and I’ll demonstrate on you. Then, you can try it on me. Just remember to let me go when I tap.”

“Okay.” She knelt down. “Now, what?”

Cillian lay on his back. “Get inside my guard.” He bent his legs and pointed between his knees. “Right here.”

Sammi slowly moved to kneel between his knees, her eyes downcast and her cheeks flushed again.
Yeah. Awkward.
Strangely, it had never been awkward when he was teaching his soldiers. But now, with her, he felt his face heating up a little, too.

“Lean over me and put your hands on my throat like you’re attacking me.”

She placed her hands lightly around his throat.

“The first thing I’ve gotta do is get you off balance and your hips are an amazing tool for that.” He bucked his hips up, pulling her forward. As he knew she would, she lost her balance and fell forward over him, on her hands. “Now that you’re off balance, I can roll you over and pin you.”

He grabbed one of her arms, simultaneously using a foot to push against one of her bent legs to straighten it. She collapsed on him, and he pulled on one wrist to straighten out her arm, then wrapped his other arm around her back and flipped her over.

“Now I gotta hold on tight, keeping your arm straight so your shoulder is against your neck, and use my head to pin it. I won’t do it hard, but tap if it becomes too much.” He tightened his hold slightly, pushing his head against her arm. She was completely still.

“You should be able to feel that shoulder going right into your brachial nerve.” He tightened his hold a little bit more and then suddenly, teacher-mode stopped and guy-mode took over.

He could smell her; it was a combination of her shampoo, the lingering perfume on her skin, and her sweat. It was intoxicating, and as he took a deep breath, his head swam. His legs tangled with hers, and the feeling of her warm little body beneath his made him shut his eyes for a second; it had been so long since he’d had a woman this close to him.
She feels fucking amazing.
Below the waist, his body began to stir.
Fuck. Secure that shit, Ronan.

Suddenly, he felt a weak tap-tap on his arm, followed by the weaker sound of her muffled voice.

“Cillian—please. Get off me. Please, get off.
Get off!
”

Shit. Shit, shit.

Instantly he released her and rolled away, his heart pounding with alarm, as Sammi stumbled blindly to her feet. He rose with her, lunging forward as her knees buckled and catching her gracelessly around the waist. She went limp in his arms and the sound of her harsh panting filled his ears.

“Sammi!”

If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have dropped to the floor of the ring.
Why is she breathing like that?

Cillian lowered them down, sinking to his knees as she sprawled in front of him and keeping his arms around her. He fumbled one hand to her face, gripping her cheek to turn her around to face him, and sucked in a breath.

Her eyes were wide and blank—except for that horrible, deep-rooted terror.

Cillian’s heart pounded and his blood roared in his ears. The last time he’d felt this scared, he’d been at war.

But now was not the time to panic.
Keep your shit together, Ronan.

Sammi trembled violently, her dark eyes glazed over. Helplessly, he shook her. “Sam,” he said loudly, his voice rough and a little shaky. No response.

He grabbed his cold water bottle and held it lightly to her clammy neck; he’d heard that panic attacks were often accompanied by a sensation of warmth around the neck and face, so counteracting it with a cold sensation was helpful in bringing someone back.

“Sam,” he said quietly. “Sammi, it’s okay. You’re all right. I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you. You hear me? You’re safe. Okay, Sam?”

As it had outside the lounge on Saturday night, speaking her name that way made her eyes sharpen and focus and they shifted to him, blinking slowly. Her breathing was still heavy and labored, almost like she was having an asthma attack.

“Meds,” she rasped out. “Bag.”

He released her, then scrambled out of the ring to where her gym bag was still on the floor next to her favorite punching bag. He grabbed the whole bag and hurried back to the ring, sliding it over to her hard before launching himself after and moving to her side. Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t grasp the zipper. Finally, he took it from her and opened it.

“Where?”

“Inner pocket.”

He found the pocket and unzipped it, immediately locating a small, round amber bottle. He glanced at the label, recognizing the name of an anti-anxiety medication, then read the dosage and poured two pills into her palm. Wordlessly, he pushed his bottle of water into her hand.

As she gulped the pills and water down, the urge for answers was strong on his tongue and he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from barraging her with questions. They sat side by side quietly for a long time, and he listened closely to her breathing as it slowed and regulated. He felt her shaking subside and shook his head when she handed him the bottle of water.

“You need to drink more than that.” He glanced over his shoulder at her as she drained the bottle. “Sam…”

Her head snapped around and she met his eyes, hers full of pleading. “Please don’t ask me anything. Not right now.” She swallowed hard. “I owe you an explanation. But I can’t right now. I just can’t.”

Cillian studied her face and frowned. “I  don’t want to make you feel any worse than you do right now, but I just—if you’re goin’ through something, I might be able to help you.”

Her mouth tightened as she stared down at her hands.

Cillian got to his feet and extended his hand. Sammi looked at it, then up at him before hesitantly reaching out and grabbing it. He pulled her to her feet and looked down at her.

“You hungry?”

She drew her head back and glanced at her watch. “Cillian, it’s, like, midnight.”

“So what? You hungry?”

“I-I guess.”

“There’s a place down the street that makes the best cheesesteaks you’ve ever had. My treat.”

She studied his face, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll get my stuff.”

He waited by the door for her, and she reappeared a moment later, wearing a large, zip-up hooded sweatshirt over her black yoga pants and sneakers, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. Cillian locked up behind them, and Sammi walked next to him as he led her down the street to a little corner restaurant. He held the door open for her.

“Isn’t this against your training diet?” She scanned the menus on the wall behind the counter.

“Just don’t snitch on me to Baz. You know what you want?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Cillian stepped up to the counter. “Two, whiz, with.” The cook nodded and set to making their sandwiches as they took seats at the long countertop. They were the only two customers in the place.

Sammi set her bag on an empty stool and crossed her legs. “So, the best cheesesteaks ever, huh? I don’t think the good people of Philly would appreciate you saying that.”

“Hey, it is what it is.” He smiled at her. “You be the judge.”

When their orders were up, Cillian grabbed them and handed Sammi one of the cardboard trays overflowing with bread, thinly sliced rib-eye, cheese whiz, and grilled onions.

“Looks like you did it right.” She picked up her sandwich and took an enormous bite as Cillian arched an eyebrow at her.

“I did it right,” he repeated. “Excuse you?”

“Just wanna make sure you know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I know cheesesteaks.”

“Says the boy from Boston.”

“Fuckin’ New Yorkers,” he teased, taking his own bite and watching her smile into her sandwich. “It’s good?”