Page 24 of Captured Heart

I like that. Direct. To the point. Doesn’t back down. Those are qualities I can respect. This slightly feisty side isn’t something I expected.

“I didn’t freak out.”

“Please don’t insult me by lying. It’s not a good look.”

She purses those pretty, pert lips, seemingly more annoyed now. Her face is demanding an answer, and if I want tomorrow to proceed as planned, I’d better give her one.

“I’m not lying. And I didn’t freak out. But...I told you some stuff that I’ve never told anyone before...and I didn’t like it. Ididn’t like how much information I gave you. I didn’t like how quickly you got it out of me. I just...didn’t like it. I didn’t want to divulge more...so I left. It’s as simple as that. If that upset you, I’m sorry, but...talking about my mom isn’t something I’m comfortable with.”

Understanding flickers in her eyes, and her expression softens, becoming slightly more playful. “I mean, it was a little dramatic, but I guess I can accept that.”

“So, we’re cool?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Get up here.”

Her lips purse again, and she’s back to being unimpressed. “Do you ever ask for anything nicely? Or do you always just bark out orders like that?”

I know exactly what she’s referring to. After working for Victor for so many years, it’s a habit that’s ingrained in me. When you’re leading a heist, barking orders is the only form of communication or someone might end up in a body bag. But I’m not leading a heist right now, so I dial it back a fraction and try to be...nice.

“Get up here...please.”

“That’s marginally better,” she says, a slight giggle in her voice.

She reaches out, and I grab her hand to help her up. I hold the ropes open for her as she climbs into the ring. She bumps into me and quickly steps back. Her eyes roam over my bare chest before gliding down the tattoos on my arm and a blush rises up her neck and onto her cheeks.

“Everything okay?” I ask when the silence stretches on too long.

“Uh...yeah. Just...I just wasn’t expecting...” She gestures to my torso. “...all that. Sort of...took me by surprise. The chest...and the abs...and the tattoos—” She abruptly snaps herhead up to look at my face. “Is there a reason you wanted me here?”

The air between us is charged, rapid sparks of electricity flitting back and forth. It makes the moment slightly awkward because we’re staring at each other. She’s undressingthe restof me with her eyes. I’m picturing her naked. It’s...intense, but I say nothing about it. There are other things I need to focus on, anyway.

“Yeah. Do you know any form of self-defense?”

She shakes her head, looking genuinely confused. “Not really. Should I?”

While I find her blissful unawareness appealing on some level, that answer irritates the ever-loving shit out of me. She doesn’t know what might be coming her way or the potential danger that lies ahead. She’s oblivious to every damn thing Victor has planned for her. Including me.

If things don’t go my way, I’ll still get half my money and can disappear without a trace. But I need to make sure she can at least defend herself if Victor’s goons come after her.

“Every woman should know the basics. Do you mind if I teach you a few tricks?”

She needs a moment to think about that because not only did she break her routine to come here earlier, but now I’m asking her to break her workout routine as well. It’s a bit much for one day.

“Promise you’ll still get in your cardio,” I say when her internal debate goes past the thirty-second mark.

That convinces her. “Sure.”

“Okay, let’s start with the simplest one.” I curl my fingers around her wrist. “If someone grabs you like this, don’t try to pull back. Twist your arm toward their thumb. That’s the weakest part of the grip.”

She looks skeptical but follows my instructions. Her wrist slips out of my grip easily, and she gasps. “That actually worked?”

I nod. “Easy, right? But don’t stop there. Once you’re free, you strike.” I lift my hand for her to hit. “Use the base of your palm and aim for the nose. Hard. The goal is to disorient your attacker long enough for you to run.”

I show her how to do it, then she mimics the motion, her palm stopping just short of my hand. Her movements are precise, but there’s hesitation in her eyes.

“Don’t hold back,” I say, stepping closer. “The harder you hit, the better your chance of getting away.”

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