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Chapters (43)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. EPILOGUE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. BACK AD
  40. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  41. BOOKS BY JENNIFER BROWN
  42. CREDITS
  43. ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

Gunner loped over to the equipment box and dug out a kicking pad. He held it in front of him and I worked on my power, gaining steam and momentum with every kick. Snap, snap, snap. Barely stopping to take breaths between, my hands balled up in front of my chin, my focus laser-sharp on the pads. Snap, snap, snap. After a while, Gunner had to change hands, shaking out the one that had been holding the pad.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” he said when I finally took a break. I was sitting on the folding chair again, sucking down a bottle of water as fast as I could. Sweat poured off me. It felt good. I was calming down, anyway. “How are your evasion techniques coming?”

I almost laughed out loud. I thought about running away from the man with white-blond hair at Pear Magic. If there was anything I was good at, it was evasion.

“I could probably work on that,” I said, tossing the empty bottle into recycling and heading back to the mat.

After a bow, Gunner settled into a fighting stance and moved to strike. I stopped him with a high block. He tried again and I used a middle knife hand. He reared back and threw a kick at me. Quick as lightning, I blocked him low. He threw some combinations and I blocked them all, taking the force of his kicks and strikes with my forearms, sending jolty thuds of pain up into my biceps, my chest. I ignored it. I had too much at stake to feel pain.

After a few minutes, he let his stance down. “Your blocks are great, but you need to work on getting out of the way,” he said. “Here, let me show you. Give me a forefist.”

I planted one foot behind me and punched. He ducked out of the way and I punched the air.

“Palm heel,” he said, straightening up again. I thrust my palm at him and he moved to the side. Again, my attack hit air. “Try a combination.”

“Sir?”

“Anything you’d like. Kicks, punches, whatever. Just go for it. You’re going to beat the snot out of me.”

I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and then unleashed two punches into the air, becoming so off balance I couldn’t even finish the combination.