This, of course, made her mad, which could have been his intent. It was hard to know. Nevertheless, she began to charge with more energy, but as she did, she could feel her precision dissipate until it became even easier for him to redirect her fists. In a single move, he wrapped his ankle around the back of her knee and tugged, sending her to the cushioned mat with enough force to knock the breath out of her.
When she tried to get up, he motioned for her to stay down with a simple hand gesture and instead, crouched down next to her head, resting on his haunches while she sucked in a few quick breaths. “Sometimes when people get pissed off, they fight better.”
“Like Rocky,” she wheezed as she sat up.
“Like Rocky,” Quinlan agreed with an actual smile. “But you don’t.”
She gave him a disgusted look to let him know that she’d already figured that part out. Standing to his full height, he stretched out his hand to her and helped her to her feet.
“You’re going to have to learn how to discipline your emotions. And you need to work harder on your own time. Repetition is the key.”
“Can’t you just teach me how to shoot a gun?”
“Your mind is your first weapon. Your body is your second. Guns, knives, those will come later. We’re done for today.”
“If you say so,” she muttered heading over to the side of the gym where her water and towel waited. Together they sat on the bench in companionable silence and drank deeply from their water bottles.
Sabrina could smell the lingering essence of sweat in the empty gym. Mostly from her, but some from him. On some level it disturbed her that he could smell her. Enough so that she found it necessary to scoot down the bench a little.
“When’s your next class?” he asked.
She checked the clock on the wall of the gym. “I’ve got time. I’m going to need a shower. I stink.”
“You do,” he agreed, wrapping his own towel around his neck.
“Yeah, well, you’re no rose, either.”
He didn’t comment.
“So do you hate it?” she blurted, still trying to get something from him, although she couldn’t say what that intangible thing was or why it was so important to her. But she figured he had to hate being stuck teaching a teenage girl how to fight. “I mean being here with me,” she clarified when he only raised his brows, “instead of out there in the field.”
“No.”
Sabrina waited, but that was apparently all he was going to offer.
“Were you good?” She bet he was. She bet he was very good.
“I still am,” he said.
“Right,” she agreed quickly. “I mean it’s not like you’re retired or anything. You’re not
She could see him wince at that comment and smiled because that had been her intent.
“How old are you? Thirty-something, right?”
“Close enough. Why all the questions?”
“We’ve been doing this for months. You know everything there is to know about me. I can’t even get you to tell me if Quinlan is your first or last name. I want to know your story. Did you mess something up? Are you being punished?”
“You think working with you is a punishment?”
She’d been told as much. On more than one occasion. But this wasn’t a sympathy exploration. All she really wanted was to find out about him. His past. His future. His scar, how it got there, and if that was the reason he’d been stuck working with her for so long. And most importantly, how long it would be before he left.
“Most people seem to think so,” she replied. “I’m not exactly easy. Ask my Arabic teacher.”
“Where’s the fun in easy?”
She smiled because it was an answer she understood. And he made her believe that he understood it, too.
“Seriously,” she pressed. “Why me?”
For a while he said nothing. Only the clock, sounding particularly loud in the quiet gym, made any noise. This was a time when an adult might have said something to ease the tension to let another adult off the hook. She had only just turned seventeen. Not adult enough.
She only lasted a minute before she proposed, “Maybe it’s
He turned his head and she could see his brow furrow. Then he shook his head softly. “I’m here because I needed to heal,” he finally admitted, pointing to the red mark over his eye. “Don’t ever get the impression that you’re too special, Sabrina. Trust me when I tell you that you’re not.”
“Yo,” she moaned, clutching at her breast with her hand in a show of mock pain. “Ouch.”
His lips twitched and he leaned his head against the wall behind him. “You’re right. You’re not easy. I suppose there are some handlers who might think it’s not worth the effort.”
“This is the part when you tell me you’re different from the other handlers,” she replied cheekily for the pure challenge of eliciting another smile.
But just in case he said something else, she wrapped the towel that had been around her neck, around her shoulders so that it covered her barely clad body.
“You’re late for class.” It was the only thing he said before he stood and walked away.
Chapter 7
Sabrina shifted herself more comfortably in the back seat of the Cadillac and tried not to think about who was coming for her and how close he really was. This was what she’d asked for after all, what she wanted. But with the adrenaline pumping heavy in her body and her heart still racing from the gunfight, it was suddenly hard to remember
It was. She supposed that was enough.
Her Defender was still in her hand and with no real place to put it, Sabrina left it on the ledge behind the seat. It occurred to her that she was cold and with good reason. No socks and no coat.
Glancing over at Quinlan, she noticed that he’d managed to grab his dark overcoat during the melee. Typical. He’d have taken it as protection against a gunshot or flying glass. He’d have taken it in case they had to make a run for it on foot, knowing the temperature was below freezing. A hail of bullets pelting the house and he’d been calm enough and logical enough to put his coat on because it was the sensible thing to do.
And here she thought she’d been whizbang for grabbing her sneakers.
There was a panel on the back seat of the upscale vehicle for climate control and Sabrina leaned forward to jack up the heat to seventy-eight degrees. Hot air rushed out of the vents and the sudden change in temperature caused her to shiver.
“You should have thought to grab a coat or sweater.”
“Thanks,” she snapped even as she rubbed her hands over her arms. The sweater she had on was pretty heavy and as soon as the hot air filled the car she would be fine.
“If you think I’m going to give you mine-”
“I don’t think that,” she said, stopping him. There was nothing particularly gallant about Quinlan, certainly not when it came to business.
“Talk to me. Explain to me again what that was back there.”
She wished she knew for certain. “They weren’t trying to kill me.” Best to start with the obvious. The shots had been high and random. The shooters out back had been trying to prevent an escape rather than performing an execution.
“You contacted Kahsan,” he accused her. “You all but dared him to come and get you.”
