Page 29 of Dating Goals
I push off the wall, ready to charge back, but the guy holding Anika suddenly yelps in pain as Anika’s heel crashes down on his foot.
She twists in his grip, her elbow connecting with his solar plexus. In one fluid motion, she’s out of his lap, spinning to deliver a palm strike to his nose that makes a sickening crunch. He howls, hands flying to his face.
The taller one roars and barrels toward her. Anika doesn’t even flinch. She drops low, her leg sweeping out in a perfect arc, catching him behind the knees. He crashes to the floor like a felled tree.
The shorter one, blood streaming from his nose, makes another grab for her. As he lunges for her, she pivots, using his momentum against him. One moment he’s charging, the next he’s flying through the air, crashing onto an empty table.
My jaw drops.
The taller guy staggers to his feet, face contorted with rage. He pulls a small knife from his jacket, and my heart stops.
“Anika!” I yell, pushing off the wall.
Anika is already moving, her stance low and balanced. She blocks his arm with her forearm, delivers a palm strike to his chest, an elbow to his temple, and suddenly his face is to the floor, arm bent at an angle.
“I said, keep your hands to yourself,” she says calmly, releasing him with a little shove that makes his head thunk against the floorboards.
The entire bar has gone silent. I’m standing there with my mouth hanging open, my own injury forgotten, and completely sober. The entire exchange takes maybe fifteen seconds. Both men are groaning on the floor while Anika stands over them, barely breathing hard, smoothing her hair back into place.
“Get out,” she says coldly. “Now.”
They stumble to their feet, shooting venomous glares at her (and me) before limping toward the door.
“You crazy witch,” the shorter one mumbles through his hands, his nose is still gushing blood.
But Anika just stares them down until they disappear into the night.
The bar is silent for a beat, then, like a dam breaking, the Jass players erupt into cheers and applause.
Lars is whistling through his fingers, and Colin is doubled over laughing.
“Did you see their faces?” Evan howls, slapping his knee. “Priceless!”
I’m still frozen in place, blood dripping down the side of my face, completely shell-shocked by what I just witnessed.
Anika brushes her hands together like she’s just taken out the trash, then turns her attention to me. “Sit,” she commands, pointing to a chair. “Don’t move.”
I obey without question, sinking into the nearest seat.
“You’re bleeding on my floor,” she says matter-of-factly, then disappears behind the bar.
“What…What just happened?” I finally manage to ask no one in particular.
Lars claps me on the shoulder. “Meet Anika Gisler, three-time regional champion in Wing Chun kung fu.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.” Colin grins. “Those idiots picked the wrong bartender to mess with.”
Evan is collecting our cards and stacking them neatly. “And you, my friend, are an idiot for thinking she needed your help.”
“I…” My cheek feels hot, and it’s not just from the punch. “I didn’t know.”
“Obviously,” Lars says, gathering his winnings from the table. “But it was still nice of you to try.”
Anika returns with a first aid kit, setting it on the table with a deliberate thunk. She opens the kit and pulls out an antiseptic wipe. Without warning, she leans in and dabs at the cut above my eye. I hiss at the sting.
“Such a baby,” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.
