Riding on Whispers (the Wolfegang series Book 3) (20 page)

I did as I was told, lengthening my muscles and warming them up.

Wolfe looked around the gym, silently evaluating while he kept an eye on me. His arms were crossed and the muscles in his shoulders and arms stood out. The tendons in his neck were taut, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

I saw everything from under my lashes, masking my observance. Something was stressing him out more than the simple fact we were here undercover. It looked like he was watching and waiting for something bad to happen; as if he expected it.

If whatever he anticipated actually came at us, it would be a surprise, and we’d be in deep shit. Had he seen someone he knew when he was still a soldier? Maybe that was it, and he hadn’t told me about it yet.

“Are you done?” Wolfe asked. His voice was clipped and tight.

I shook out my muscles and popped my neck. “I guess,” I replied. I didn’t think he’d react well if I said no.

Wolfe ghosted towards me, faster than the devil, and had me on my ass before I could blink. “What…the hell?” I gasped out. All the breath had been slammed out of my body, leaving me desperately trying to get air.

“You’re small and light.” Wolfe walked around me in a circle, watching as I gasped like a fish. “We’re going to be dealing with throws, ones that allow you to best an opponent taller and bigger than you are, and who is much heavier and stronger.”

He paced while he spoke, waiting for me to get up. “I’m very sure Celeste didn’t go over any of this with you. She never gets close enough, and she’s too tall. She’s also too quick. Whatever she’s attacking is dead before they can even get anywhere close enough to touch her.”

What a jerk.

“I am not small,” I gasped indignantly. I was taller than average for chrissake, and I’ve never been a lightweight; too much muscle. But the way Wolfe tossed me around, it was like I was a delicate little flower.

Still on the floor, I couldn’t move and could barely get any air. I decided that lying on the ground coughing until I got my breath back was smarter than standing up so he could just do it again. Wolfe offered me his hand.

“I will go slower this time,” he promised.

Reluctantly I took his outstretched hand, and he lifted me up with ease. Okay, maybe I’d lost weight over five hundred years and just didn’t notice.

“Jiu Jitsu can be translated to the art of yielding,” he began. “The central premise of it is the one upon which almost all throws are based. As someone attacks, you have four options: the first is to not fight back, let the attacker hit you and pay the consequences for it. The second is to fight head on. The third is to fight back indirectly. Use force to direct the attack somewhere else. The fourth is to use the force of the attack itself.”

I was more shocked that they taught him Jiu Jitsu, than Wolfe telling me the basics of it. Still, I had a little more respect for him just then.

He continued as I watched him circle me. “The most important part of throwing, other than making sure you won’t be hit,” Wolfe said, “is recognizing the center of gravity in another person, and how it plays into your throw. That point is where something would balance perfectly if it were suspended.” Wolfe placed his hand over my belly button. His touch froze me in place. “Here,” he said. “The center of their gravity is your pivot for throwing them. If you move their center of gravity, you can move the person. It’s the beginning of breaking their balance.”

My muscles tightened with anxiety at Wolfe’s touch.

He continued without pause. He must not have noticed my reaction. “For most,” he said, “the center of gravity is somewhere near the navel. The human body’s sense of balance is the only thing that keeps us standing upright. The key to this balance is our head. If you control the head, you control the balance, and if you control their balance, you control their body.”

I wondered when he would get to the part where we actually did whatever he was yapping about.

Wolfe removed his hand, and slowly walked around me, moving my arms, and getting me to stand in the proper position. “The real key to sense of balance is the ears.” He slid my foot out farther, so that my feet were set wider, and then nodded in approval. “While sound can to some extent, directly affect a person’s sense of balance, it’s the inner ear that keeps you standing. Damage the inner ear, and you immediately have the advantage. We’ll go over the first move.”

I was nervous. Wolfe was a good six inches taller than me, if not more, and at least a hundred pounds heavier of solid muscle.

Wolfe took my hands and placed them where he wanted. “You start by grabbing the sleeve and the armpit area, like this. Then pull back your leg on the same side as the arm that’s holding my shirt to destabilize my balance. As you move forward, slip an arm around my waist and grab the back of my belt area, pulling me against your hips. Use your knees and the power in your hips. Then throw me over and to the floor.”

I stared at him blankly. There was so much he said that I didn’t understand.

Wolfe’s eyes searched my face when I didn’t move, and then he sighed. “I’ll show you,” he said.

He slipped out of my grip, grabbed my arm, and flipped me over with a pop of his hip before I realized what was happening. This time when I hit the floor it was gently, as if he placed me there.

I stared up at him from the mat, surprised that I could still breathe, and a little disoriented. He offered me his hand again, no expression on his face.

His teaching tactics were so different from Celeste’s. With her it was survive or die, but the intent was to beat each other to a bloody pulp. Here, Wolfe was asking me to be graceful. Something I was never really able to pull off before.

He snapped his fingers to make sure I was paying attention. I glared at him. I think I preferred Celeste over this.

“It’s essential during this move to keep your body snug against the opponent so he doesn’t escape,” he said. “It’s a great counter-attack to a sudden, vital-point attack from the opponent.”

His word choice was very tactical, like we were playing a game of chess. I doubted a real fight would be like that. I’d never really been in that kind of fight. Sure, I’d thrown a punch or two, but never against a skilled opponent, and only as a reaction.

I stood again, and Wolfe motioned for me to do what he’d done. Rolling my shoulders again, I took a deep breath. I could figure this out. It couldn’t be as hard as it sounded. I took his arm and pulled, twisting so that he was against my hips, and a little off balance.

Wolfe spoke, and I could feel his words on my neck, “In order to perform this smoothly, and at precisely the right moment - your hip thrust must be deep enough to get me off my feet, and your knees need to be bent far enough. Choose the right time to slip your arm around my waist and grab it. It’s not easy, but you can do it by lowering your shoulder slightly on that side, putting me on my heels.”

I was processing all of this, trying to adjust my body correctly as he spoke.

“Now throw me.”

I popped my hip, and pulled on his shoulder at the same time. My other hand pulled on his belt; he went up and over, and flipped until he was on his back looking up at me for a change.

“Hah! I can’t believe that worked!” I was surprised and elated that I’d figured it out. It all sounded so complex and impossible when Wolfe explained it. He was so much bigger than me, I wasn’t sure it would work.

Finally, Wolfe’s stern expression broke a little to give me a small smile.

“Good,” he said as he got up. “We can move on to the next one.”

I stared at him, I was going to get tired fast, and just because I could do it didn’t mean hefting him around was easy, even if it was just for a split second.

He motioned me to take my ready position. I sighed and did so.

He started explaining the move, putting his hands where they would go if he was to throw me. I was ready for Wolfe’s trick this time. I slipped out of his grip, and spun around him. I didn’t feel like being tossed to the floor again.

I bared my teeth at him. It was almost a smile, but too feral to qualify. “You know, with all of your explanations,” I said, “it’s easy to see where I can evade them.”

Wolfe turned and gave me an approving look. “That’s also the point, but I’m glad you catch on quick. Though the fighting grips, the use of hands and feet, and the motions of this move are identical for both men and women. Women have weaker lower body muscles, often causing their knees to buckle when attempting the move. Therefore, women must give more attention to the proper timing than men,” he explained.

That made sense, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about it yet. I had no idea of the timing required until I was actually doing it.

“Are you ready?” Wolfe asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied.

As directed, I grabbed and spun, then threw him over my shoulder.

Wolfe was on his back on the mat again. “Nice,” he said. “You definitely learn fast.”

I helped him up. He’s a lot heavier than he looks too. “Celeste didn’t seem to think so,” I remarked. With her, I had to learn quickly, or risk more broken bones. Her method I liked. It was kind of like playing a video game, but when the blood spilled it was mine. The pain was real. It was always a chilling thought.

Wolfe and I looked at each other for a moment, and neither of us really knew what to say. Sweat trickled down my neck and in-between my shoulder blades. I wiped more sweat from my forehead and face. It was hard work tossing the Captain around. I didn’t know if I would use throws that often. It was far too precise for someone like me.

Our eyes stayed locked on each other, and I wondered if I could learn to be that precise with my new abilities. Would Wolfe wonder at my aptitude? When I put my mind to it, it didn’t seem to take long for me to learn something. I was able to process things faster, and learn better from mistakes the first time.

I turned away from Wolfe and stretched, hiding my thoughts from him. Making the same mistake multiple times used to be my specialty; a habit I hoped to break.

My earpiece crackled and Ricky’s voice felt like it floated through my head. “Katerina, someone rifled through your personnel files.”

I turned my head to see if anyone else heard him. Wolfe watched me, waiting for my response; he could hear Ricky as well with his own earpiece. I tapped my belt to open the line from my end and smiled at Wolfe.

“Which files - Johnson, or the ones on the ship?” My voice was low, I pitched it to be lost in the sounds of people talking, grunting from exertions and smacks.

Wolfe nodded, playing along perfectly.

“Actually, both. He started with Johnson and somehow found the source, and then traced it to our ship. I shut it down before any information got out, but I’m pretty sure he saw your picture on our files, which means he knows who you aren’t.”

I felt sick to my stomach. How could this have gone wrong so quickly?

“Any indication as to why he was looking through my specs?” I asked. I started stretching again, hiding our conversation as much as I could.

“All I can give you is the location of the hack. My scramble transmission can only hide the channel we’re riding on for so long. It’s on the second floor, in the power room, third computer down. The log in was John Smith. Good luck.” Ricky cut off our connection.

I crossed my arms. I didn’t know if we had the security clearance to get into the power room, or how we were going to find someone with that name. I looked up at Wolfe, but he didn’t say anything.

“What should we do?” I asked him. I had to do something.

“We need to go find that computer,” Wolfe mumbled.

“How do you propose we do that?” I asked.

“We don’t have the clearance to get through, but I may know someone who does. Go get cleaned up. I’ll meet you there in a few. Be dressed and ready to go. We’ll have to move fast.”

I nodded. Having a plan was good. I felt my nerves calm, and I was able to focus. We would figure this out.

We went off in separate directions. I headed back to the locker room, and Wolfe went off to wherever he thought his possible contact might be. I grabbed my uniform and started off to the living quarters.

I ran around the track that took me through three levels of the gym. I watched as trainers pushed their trainees. I passed a class of a group of kids who couldn’t be more than thirteen. The idea of tiny little monsters terrified me; a healthy respect for what could kill me, as my grandfather would say.