Page 32 of Deviant Knight

CHAPTER 18

CIERA

Sienna didn’t say where she was taking Sasha and me when we left Tony’s house this morning. They both started bickering as soon as they closed the doors to Sienna’s car with Sasha in the front next to her sister-in-law and me in the back.

I don’t know either of them well. I’ve had less time around Sienna than Sasha, but they both seem so much alike that I don’t understand why they don’t like each other.

After a short, fifteen-minute drive, Sienna parked in front of a metal building with the words INDOOR RANGE in all caps. There wasn’t a business name or anything else that indicated what type of range we were at, but I had a feeling it was a gun range. I’d been right, except it’s also where Domenico and Krishna train for Krav Maga I was informed.

When we ate lunch, Sienna explained that her dad owned the building, but the range and training facility are owned and operated by the same man. He’s some type of master-level trainer in what her brother and Krishna do.

Sienna and Sasha tried to give me a rundown when they introduced me to Ethan, the owner, but everything went over my head. Ethan finally explained that it’s a military form of self-defense that combines techniques from several areas of martial arts.

At first, I was worried that Sienna’s outing was going to have me working out. I had to pull her to the side and tell her I draw the line at exercise. I’m not like her or her twin’s wife. I’ve been told they love kickboxing, but I, on the other hand, hate to sweat and would rather suffer Tony’s wrath than be forced to workout with them. Military-style workouts sounded even worse than normal exercises.

Sienna laughed and then told me she couldn’t care less if exercise wasn’t my jam and that wasn’t why we were there. Then her tone and expression turned serious when she informed me that every woman should know basic self-defense, how to handle and operate a gun, and the proper way to throw a knife. None of those things sounded fun, but they also didn’t sound as bad as the thought of running on a treadmill or using a stair climber. I’m a computer nerd, not a gym rat.

She had Ethan work with each of us separately, though I haven’t the first clue why she and Sasha needed lessons on self-defense when Giovanni has told me both of them can and have gone toe-to-toe against their brothers and held their own.

Giovanni has invited me to workout with him each morning this week, but I’ve politely declined all three times except this morning. It’s clear I don’t fit in with any of them, nor do I see how I ever will.

Of course, I highly doubt they plan to keep me around a second longer once Tony has his revenge. The thought of having to go back to my father’s house, or worse, Ireland, skyrockets my anxiety, so I’ve tried to force that notion as far back as it’ll go.

After we spent a few hours with Ethan, Sasha and Sienna started arguing about who was the better knife thrower and who could teach me the best. They did a competition among themselves, but I couldn’t tell you if one of them beat the other. They were both annoyed toward the end, but then they took turns showing me how they handle blades. All their techniques, unless I didn’t learn anything, seem the same, but then, I’m not an expert either.

Toward late afternoon, I followed them into the gun range section of the building. There they had access to three different types of handguns. Sienna pointed out which weapon was which, but now that it’s over, I couldn’t tell one caliber from the others. All I knew was that they were all different, and I shot all three of them.

At first, I wasn’t thrilled with the activity. I don’t like guns, but clearly, Sienna does. Sasha prefers knives over guns. She made that clear numerous times, but I actually liked shooting more so than I did throwing their blades and even favored it over the self-defense lessons.

I didn’t realize Ethan was going to make all of us work up a sweat. Sienna and Sasha weren’t fazed, but for me, that ended up sucking. Although I agree with Sienna, women do need to learn the basics, me included.

Half an hour ago, Ethan brought the three of us takeout from one of Sienna’s favorite restaurants. I guess he knows her well enough to know what she likes. It was the biggest chicken salad I’ve ever seen. Sienna and Sasha scarfed their container down while I just picked through mine and just ate the chicken.

I hate to come off rude, but salads don’t cut it for me. But it’s more than that, I was forced to eat them a lot as a kid; now I hate all salads. Sienna and Sasha have been texting on their phones for the past hour, so I don’t think either has noticed, but it’s also been a long day. Plus, I’m tired and nervous about tomorrow. I’ve never been to a wedding, yet I’m expected to be one of the main participants.

I could really use a strong drink right about now.

Since Sunday, there hasn’t been any alcohol in the pool house, which is weird since it was fully stocked Saturday night. The only thing I can figure out is I got too bollocksed and Tony ordered Giovanni to remove it.

I know I often suffer from night terrors from things I’d rather forget. Marcel Santos, the first man my father sold me to, got so sick of hearing me scream that he supplied me with whiskey. The only thing that saved me from getting raped by him was that he was under the impression I was a virgin and liked to tell those around him how he was going to take me on our wedding night.

I didn’t feel it was necessary to correct him.

I’m about to get up to throw away the nearly full Styrofoam container when Ethan walks into the small break room, his brows pinched together. Unease rolls off him, setting off an alarm in my head that has my chest tightening.

“Si,” he calls out, stopping by our table. “You three need to get out of here.”

“Why?” she and Sasha ask at the same time and then glance in each other’s direction, a look being shared between them.

“I don’t have time to explain. Here,” he says, pulling a set of car keys from his pocket. “I know your car is out front. Mine is parked just out that door.”

He lifts his other hand, his finger pointing to the metal door to my right, which is behind Sasha and to Sienna’s left as he shoves the keys in Sienna’s direction.

“I overheard a man say he was the police commissioner and mentioned looking for a girl he described with an Irish accent. Get out of here to be safe.”

I’m scrambling from my seat before the others, but they are quick to move. We leave our food, and I’m out the door as fast as I can go.

“Give me the key,” Sasha says, snatching them from Sienna. “I’ll drive. You call one of the boys.”

---