Sparring Partners (7 page)

Yeah, right
.

Reed broke eye contact and turned to grab
the pads she discarded after sparring with Shay. She left the dojo
floor without a word, making her way to the locker room in the
basement. She didn't look back.

...

"Can I help you?"

The words were polite enough. The thread of
menace in the smaller man's voice wasn't. Jordon didn't bother to
look at the man until Reed disappeared down the stairs. He didn't
miss the way Reed smiled at the guy, or the easy way she touched
this joker before she started beating the crap out of the
man-shaped target.

The instant anger that seeped into his core,
like molten lava, when the man leaned in and whispered in Reed's
ear surprised Jordon with its intensity. He wasn't generally prone
to strong emotion of any kind, so he was at a loss as to how to
productively channel the rage running hot and cold through him. He
was more than ready for class, the burning urge to bury his fists
into flesh ran so hot it had him fisting his empty hand where it
hung at his side.

Once he could no longer hear Reed on the
stair Jordon focused his attention downward, into the man's cold
blue eyes.

"You can show me where to change." Jordon
said, more of a challenge than a request.

"You're a new student?" Dissatisfaction,
irritation and belligerent arrogance wrapped up in another
seemingly polite question from this man Reed was so comfortable
with.

Good
.

Jordon smiled, brandishing his teeth like a
weapon. He enjoyed and excelled at this kind of polite warfare. His
eyes narrowed for a second on his opponent, but the smile on
Jordon's face never wavered. He was looking forward to taking more
than a few swings in this man's direction. Verbal and
otherwise.

"As of noon today. I met with Sensei
Schwartz and signed all the paperwork." Jordon widened his smile.
"After he called Sensei Nakazato in Japan, where I've trained on
and off over the past five or six years." Jordon didn't usually get
off on dropping names, but this time it was pure joy to watch the
reaction. He had trained for years with Sensei Nakazato in Japan,
the current head of the world karate system this dojo practiced.
This dojo and training under Sensei Schwartz were the primary
reasons Jordon didn't balk more at setting up an office in
Milwaukee. He needed to train, and this dojo was the best place to
do that outside of Japan.

"Follow me." The man said, in begrudging
respect to Nakazato Sensei's name. "I'll show you the locker
rooms."

Jordon said nothing as the man turned
abruptly, following the same path Reed had taken moments before.
With any luck, he'd be able to pull her damp body to his, kiss her
into a heated frenzy of elf demand, followed by submission, like he
had last night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Submission wasn't in Reed's current
vocabulary. It might have been last night, but that was then and
this was now. There was no room for submission on the dojo floor.
Not for Reed. Not today. Not with this man invading her world, her
second family, her spiritual center that kept her sane. Here she
fought and trained and never gave up. She didn't accept him here,
she wasn't sure she accepted him at all. Although one look at
Jordon and she knew she still wanted him.

Reed railed against the thought. Want him or
not, she didn't like having Jordon Bennett invade her karate school
any more than she liked waking up in Las Vegas knowing full well
what she did the night before was her choice. She couldn't blame
Jordon for her actions, but that wouldn't stop her from beating him
out the dojo door.

"Line up." Sensei said, taking the floor.
"Bow to me." He turned and faced the Okinawan and American flags
mounted side by side between full length mirrors in the middle of
the wall. "Bow to the flags."

Reed took comfort in this ritual. It was how
every class began and ended and it gave her a chance to center her
mind, while she willed her rapidly beating heart to slow. It wasn't
the exertion of earlier making her heart beat too fast, it was
Jordon, tall, dark and ready to eat. At least he had the good sense
to line up to her right. Sensei had obviously met Jordon before
class, because he ushered him into position, two people down from
her to the right. Students always lined up according to rank,
highest to lowest, left to right.

Reed smiled to herself as she stretched in
preparation for class. At least Jordon knew where he stood here,
literally two ranks under her. Actually, he could be one rank under
her fourth degree black belt, had he received his most recent
promotion after Mike, the man positioned between them. Mike was a
big man. Tall and broad shouldered, a fireman by trade, but he
didn't cast a shadow over Jordon, who looked way too sure of
himself in his faded black gi. His black belt was worn and faded as
well. Not a good sign as far as Reed was concerned. It meant he was
no amateur. No one got to be a second or third degree black belt in
their system of karate by accident and she doubted Jordon was the
exception to that rule. He seemed more than capable at everything
he did, including flying a jet.

"Attention." The highest ranking black-belt
on the floor yelled and everyone lined up, again according to rank,
as their teacher, Sensei Schwartz, took the floor again. Now things
were going to get interesting.

"Make two lines. Front line turn around and
face the person behind you. Bow in to each other." Sensei said,
pulling one of the black-belts from the center up to demonstrate
the first move. It happened to be Mike.

Sensei nodded to Mike. "He punches in.
Middle punch. I want you to step to the side, fan block and do a
front kick to the floating ribs. Target your kicks. I don't want to
see any sliding garbage. Hit with the ball of the foot, penetrate
in. Simple and clean. Work with intensity. Let's move."

It was a basic series of moves, one they'd
all executed hundreds of times, even the white belts were familiar
with it. The goal was to do each move perfectly, maintaining
control through every step, and ending in a position to respond
again. Reed didn't think about the moves, she just did them, hard
and fast.

With each rotation to a new partner Sensei
added a move until they got to a take-down that, if done with full
force, would completely disable the attacking person.

"Rotate. Bow in. Kick it up a notch, people.
No one's going to give you time to respond on the street. Make it
real. Feel it."

The class shifted position and Reed found
herself face to chest with Jordon.

...

"I need to talk to you."

"No."

"You can't ignore me forever elf."

"Don't call me that." Reed hissed under her
breath. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'd think that would be obvious."

"You're not here to work out. You could fly
anywhere to do that."

"I could. But this is my home now, Reed.
This is where my family is." Jordon said while watching Sensei
Schwartz execute the final leg sweep, stomp kick to the face
combination, landing the kick less than an inch from Mike's face as
he completed the demonstration.

Mike had the good sense to remain perfectly
still until Sensei retrieved his kick. Jordon had trained with some
of the best martial artists in the world for more than a decade and
a half. Sensei Schwartz was as good as any, and better than most,
including the best he'd trained with in Japan. Jordon would have
been lucky to train with him under any circumstances. Having Reed
here was a fortuitous bonus, one he fully intended to use to his
advantage.

"So, go away. You don't belong here." Reed
fired the words at him.

"Less talk and more work, Mohr. Get your
skinny rear in gear, kid." Sensei said, not quietly enough,
apparently.

Jordon watched pink flow to Reed's cheeks.
"Yes Sensei." She said bowing formally to Sensei before she turned
back to glare at him. Jordon would have laughed if they were
anywhere else and if what happened next between them weren't so
important. She really was cute all steamed up and ready to pounce.
As lower rank, it was his job to attack first.

"I'm not going anywhere, elf. Get used to
it." Jordon said quietly, before he punched in, hard. If she wanted
to tag him, he was going to make her work for it.

Jordon was on his back staring up at Reed's
small foot before his brain registered that she'd moved. Apparently
it didn't pay to piss off little people. At least not red-headed,
pixie faced ones with Irish tempers who knew karate.

He'd have gotten up, but her foot resting
millimeters from his neck kept him sprawled on the floor.

"Let him up, Mohr." Sensei said.

She didn't move, she just stood above him,
eyes narrowed, jaw tight as she told him without words at this
moment she held the power of life over him. She didn't know how
right she was.

"Now."

Sensei had spoken. Even so, she took her
sweet time withdrawing her kick an inch at a time.

"Bow to one another. Line up." Sensei said,
signally the end of class.

Reed bowed formally to Jordon and trotted to
the front of the dojo before he could tell her the movers would
arrive at her house in the morning. He was moving in with her, it
was a strategic decision, batter her defenses, surround her on her
ground. He'd meant it when he told her he wasn't going anywhere.
Not until William confirmed him as head of B.H. Holdings, probably
not even then.

Sensei dismissed the class. Jordon tried to
catch Reed's arm, but she scooted around him and was half way down
the stairs before he made it off the dojo floor. He followed the
rest of the men to the locker room, showered, and was putting on
his socks when the man Reed had been joking with before class held
his hand out to him, introducing himself.

Apparently now that they'd worked out
together all was well between them. Jordon had forgotten just how
much he missed being part of a dojo. It made the difference between
controlling the chaos of life and allowing it to control you.
Belonging mattered. Belonging here was a gift he didn't take
lightly.

"Shannon O'Shay." He said, shaking Jordon's
hand firmly. "But everyone calls me Shay."

"Jordon Bennett." Jordon responded, none of
his earlier ire present in his manner or tone.

Sensei was still in the locker room watching
quietly as the rest of the men introduced themselves. When the last
of the handshakes were complete, Sensei spoke, drawing everyone's
attention.

"Mohr is usually the one smiling and
laughing in class. I have to get on her every class about it. Not
today though. What exactly did you do to piss her off?" Sensei's
tone was nonchalant, his stance was not.

Suddenly all eyes were on him. Jordon wasn't
sure where to start with this group of protective men. Honesty in
situations like this had saved his bacon more than once, so he
decided to be open and honest. Jordon thought for a second, before
settling on one the thing he'd done that pissed his little elf off
the most.

"I married her."

Complete silence and twelve pair of
incredulous eyes met his. Jordon sighed and waited for one of them,
or any of them, to respond. No one said a word. Mouths dropped open
and closed again. A few of the men looked like they might say
something, but no one did. Seconds ticked by audibly on the clock
at the far end of the otherwise silent locker room.

Then Sensei laughed, breaking the silence in
the room and easing the tension in Jordon's shoulders. Before he
knew it Jordon was the recipient of more back slapping than he
could count, but not from Shay who shot him an unreadable look
before turning away. Sensei was still chuckling and shaking his
head when he pounded Jordon's shoulder.

Sensei managed a straight face when he said,
"Congratulations." Three seconds later he burst out laughing again
as he headed out the door. He only made it a few steps when Jordon
heard him say to Shay. "Man, he is so screwed. I haven't seen Mohr
this scary since Jesse got suspended for something the quarterback
did. I think that principal is still managing the carwash."

Shay's laughter sounded forced to Jordon,
but the mirth in his words was real enough. "He'll have to wear
sparring pads to bed for a while. That's for sure. I know I would."
Jordon could hear them chuckling all the way up the stairs.

It was going to be a long thirty days.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Henry surveyed the area around Potters Woods
with a sniper's eye for detail, grateful he'd managed to talk
Jordon into waiting until morning to invade his new wife's domain.
He wasn't really worried about security, not even William knew
where he and Jordon were, but Henry hadn't survived both Gulf Wars
by being careless.

The early morning light captured the dew on
the grass and the flowers lining the driveway all the way to the
house, making them seem to glow from inside. Daisies, impatiens,
lilies, begonias, hostas and trilliums lined the gravel drive
interspersed with various sculptures, some small and delicate,
others not so small. Elves, winged fairies, a mermaid and a merman,
frogs in yoga poses and some creatures he couldn't identify nestled
among the flowers, ferns, and hostas. The effect was a little out
there for him, but surprisingly welcoming nonetheless.

Henry especially liked the frogs. He snapped
a few rapid fire flower and frog shots for the photo album of
gardens he'd been keeping since he'd started traveling around the
world. First in the service, then with Jordon. He saw more gardens
and less blood with Jordon.

Leaning through the passenger window of the
late model dark blue sedan he rented for surveillance, Henry pulled
a strawberry licorice twist from the bag he always kept hidden in
the glove compartment of every vehicle he used, right next to his
backup Glock nine millimeter.