Page 15 of Dark Secrets

“Assuming you pass,” a blond boy with freckles sneered, and the boys around him snickered.

James moved to stand in front of him, making sure he was close enough that the boy had to tilt his head up or take a step back to meet his gaze.

“You’re a Donahue, aren’t you?”

The boy nodded, eyes filled with challenge. “Brian.”

“Ah,” James said with a knowing grin. “Mick’s youngest. I know how your father fights. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on you.”

The boy’s face went red, and James took a step back. “Today we’ll start with hand-to-hand. If you’ve got a basic skill level, everything from knowing nothing to being able to land a decent punch, you’ll work with Reagan.”

He waited while about half the women and a couple boys moved over to stand next to Reagan, who beamed. “Moderate skill level is knowing a few different punches, some experience with fist fighting. You’ll be with Holt and Brogan.”

After this group self-selected, James was left with about ten people—eight boys and two women. “All of you would rate your skill level high?”

He eyed the woman who’d spoken when she nodded, noting that Brian had put himself into this group as well. Not surprising. His father was a brutal teacher, and most of his kids came knowing how to throw more than a few punches. Not much form or discipline, but they could hold their own in a fight.

“I’m not training with a bunch of girls,” one of Brian’s friends spat.

“Name,” James said, his voice razor sharp.

“Timmy McBride.” The kid’s chin ticked up a few notches in challenge.

“I know your brother,” Brogan said.

“And?” Timmy’s voice carried the defiance of youth and hubris.

“And I know he doesn’t suffer fools.”

Timmy snorted. “Training with women is bound to get someone hurt, and working with them is going to get someone killed. Just because Rory’s the head of our family doesn’t mean he knows what’s best for everyone.”

“That’s an interesting sentiment,” Evie said from the side of the room. Timmy flinched and took a quick step back when Evie approached. “Are you saying you don’t respect the chain of command in this organization? Because your participation is entirely optional.”

The tone of her voice had Timmy’s eyes snapping to her face and widening. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then please”—Evie spread her arms out to her sides—“enlighten me.” When he didn’t speak, she continued. “Your place in the Callahan syndicate is a privilege, not a right. If you don’t like how Declan or I run things, you are welcome to make your own way in the world, devoid of whatever protection this organization could afford you.”

She took a step back to address the whole group. “That goes for any one of you. If this is the hill you want to die on, by all means, there’s the door.”

When no one moved, she turned to James, smile bright. “Sorry to interrupt. Please continue.”

He chuckled under his breath when she moved to stand near Reagan. “This last group is with me.”

He took them through a routine, testing their skills and their ability to adapt to a partner. How fast did they learn a partner’s habits or tells? How good were they at evading a punch instead of trying to win with sheer force and power? Did they advance more than they assessed?

Not surprisingly, the women were far more patient than the men, and more than once, the brunette had Timmy flat on his ass. He was determined to bring her down with brute strength, and every time they sparred, he underestimated her ability to turn his strength into his weakness.

The fourth time he was on his back, breath wheezing from his lungs, James crouched over him. “Quit thinking you can beat her just because she’s a girl and start studying her.”

He helped the kid to his feet and put them into another match. This time Timmy danced at the edge of her range instead of going right for her, but he was still impatient, lunging while she danced out of his way and brought her knee up into his gut and her elbow down between his shoulder blades. He dropped to the floor on his hands and knees.

James shook his head and rotated partners, making mental notes on each one. Some of the boys would have to be moved down, but both women were solid. He’d be able to teach them a lot. Already his mind was spinning with how best to utilize both of them, wondering what their other skills were.

As they finished up, he could almost hear Maura’s excited giggle in his ear. Since they had no brothers, her father had raised Maura and Reagan like boys, teaching them how to shoot and throw a punch. Maura was better with a gun, but she could hold her own in any fight and then walk you through all the first aid you needed to patch yourself up after.

He rubbed at the bittersweet ache in his chest as the trainees filed out and joined Evie and the rest at the center of the room.

“That was fantastic,” Reagan said.

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