Page 103 of At Her Will

“Cyn.” Ros drew her attention. “It’s not always about that.”

“Not entirely true,” Rev said courteously to her boss. “I won’t lift a hand against a woman.”

“Cyn,” Vera snapped and stood up as Cyn took a step toward him. She wouldn’t put it past Cyn to throw a punch to make him rethink that position.

In an adroit move, Rev put his hands on Vera’s shoulders and moved her in front of him. It brought Cyn up short and made Tiger laugh outright, a sexy, masculine rumble. When Cyn shot him a venomous look, he lifted one hand in an “I’m Switzerland” move.

Rev gauged Tiger’s considerable size. “If you wouldn’t mind having him show me what you have in mind,” he said, “we can do that.”

“He would have chosen you, Munch, except sparring with someone your height just doesn’t seem fair,” Neil said to Lawrence.

“I didn’t get this shit when you all needed a guy to get into a tight tunnel,” Lawrence noted.

“Yeah, you did. We were just a little nicer about it.” Neil formed a narrow space between thumb and forefinger. “Little. Like you.”

“Munch?” Rev asked.

“Munchkin,” Neil told him, and ducked Lawrence’s lunge at him with the grill brush, the men ably demonstrating their skills, even in mock sparring.

“Dinner and a show,” Skye signed to Ros. “Can’t beat it.”

“It’s a nickname our team tagged him with early,” Neil explained. “They call me Twizzler, because I was a bean pole in BUD/S and they found a picture of me when I was a kid, sunburned to lobster red.”

Rev had stayed behind Vera, fingers firm on her shoulders. She leaned back, her hips pressed to him because it felt too good not to do it. If he got an erection from it, the women would notice with as much appreciation as they were giving to Neil and Lawrence’s wrestling match. His hands tightened on her, and he shot her a wry look before it switched to grave courtesy.

“You seem to know a lot about fighting, Miss Cyn. I wouldn’t mind learning some things, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Stop using Vera as a human shield, you big pussy.”

The dinner party relocated to the front, their interested audience securing vantage points on the porch and steps.

“Might be better for me to take the lead on this one anyway,” Tiger advised Cyn. “Since he’s not planning on formal martial arts classes, what he needs are street fighting skills, defensive moves to defuse a situation fast.”

“Nothing defuses a situation like a knockout punch,” Cyn responded. “Or a broken knee cap.”

“Probably not the best way to break up a fight between students,” Rev put in helpfully. “Miss Mavis wouldn’t be happy, and the parents might be upset.”

“Bunch of bleeding hearts,” Cyn grumbled, but she yielded to Tiger’s take on things.

As Tiger and Cyn began their instruction, Vera wasn’t surprised that Rev picked up on the tactics well enough to suggest he had some natural skill. When Neil stepped in to add his input, Vera saw a flash of memory on Ros’s face. Not a good one. Her boss was remembering the close call that had happened here on this porch, when Abby’s meds hadn’t been working and she’d had a knife.

Ros had told Vera how Neil had disarmed her, without leaving so much as a bruise. Which meant Neil was a good choice to provide Rev useful tips for a do-no-harm-if-possible situation.

Though Rev had made it clear he wouldn’t have done it differently, Vera wouldn’t mind knowing he could bring additional skills to a situation like that, other than the hope and faith that it wasn’t his time to die. God approved of those who helped themselves, right?

Rev had ducked out of a hold with Tiger and Tiger was showing him how to do a leg sweep and bring him down to the ground, their bodies pushed into one another, Tiger’s arm extended as he showed Rev the kind of hold he should have on it.

Now that she wasn’t as worried about Cyn’s motives, Vera could indulge herself. Watching handsome men grapplewasstimulating. The others were watching attentively. Abby sat in a chair, her knees drawn up, head resting on them. Ros stroked a hand through her friend’s long red hair as she sipped a glass of wine. Cyn perched on the rail, throwing in tips. Skye was just below her on the steps, but she had her tablet out. When Vera leaned over to see what she was creating, a smile crossed her face.

A graphic rendering of Rev and Tiger, gladiators in an arena, while intrigued women in Roman dress watched.

“Gladiator Night,” Skye wrote on the screen.

“Make sure that goes into the suggestion box at Progeny,” Vera said.

During dessert and coffee, Vera helped Abby finish up the dishes in the kitchen while Cyn and Rev walked to the end of the pier together. Vera expected Rev was giving her the chance to have more of that conversation he’d promised.

Vera had thought about going with him, but he’d squeezed her hand, and brushed his lips over her temple.

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