Emma Chase (7 page)

Chapter Six

I
am on my third margarita and drinking them like they are water.  They’ve gone down so easily tonight.  I think this is firstly because Braden has been here every day, secondly because I’ve spent every evening since he started coming around obsessing over him coming over, and thirdly because I’ve enjoyed seeing him every day.

Holly and Olivia are sitting across from me at the bar in the kitchen
, smiling and listening to me rant about how infuriating it is having this brute of a man come back in my life and just. Won’t. Leave.

We decided to have a slumber party.  Yes, like we are twelve years old. 

I am complaining about how he has been nothing shy of intrusive by meddling in my personal and professional life. 

I mean, how dare he help me get a job that I absolutely could not refuse?  He knew that I would jump at the chance to work at Holt's.  Not only is it the best bar in town, but I adore the man who runs it.  I adore the man who runs its family.  I adore Braden for adoring me. 
Damn these margaritas.

Luckily, after my little rant, they don’t press me for more details than I am willing to give. They don’t pry, they just keep mixing margaritas and refilling the chip tray and salsa.

“I’m surprised that this didn’t happen before now,” smartass Holly remarks.

“Dammit, Holly!” I cry.  I slam back the rest of my margarita and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fill her up!” 

“You got it, sister.”  Holly takes my glass and empties the shaker of its beautiful liquor-filled goodness.  She puts my glass back in front of me and bites her lip to stifle the giggle she is trying to keep buried inside.

“Fuck off!” I spat and snicker. 

“Slow your roll
, chica.  You’re murdering those margaritas.” Olivia nods in my direction.

“I shall murder this margarita and then I shall murder every chip in that bowl.  Maybe I’ll order pizza from Side Street and murder the hell out of that too.”

These chicks look at each other and back at me. I look at them and we all start laughing.  The belly-ache, tears-in-your-eyes kind of laugh.

I face-palm myself.  Olivia rests her hand on my shoulder.   I glace at it and then back at her.

“When Braden feels, chica, he feels hard.  Whether that be love, friendship, sorrow, or anger.  There is no in between for him.  Right now, he feels a strong loyalty to you.  You and he had a thing, and it was a strong thing not too long ago.  I hate to say it, home girl, but you’re going to have one helluva battle if you think you can push him away.”

I look down to the bar and I smack my head on it, rolling my head from side to side.

“I have nothing to offer him.  I have nothing to offer anyone.  I am a complete fucking mess,” I whisper, and I wasn’t sure if either of them were listening to me.

After a moment of silence, there’s a slap on the bar, and Holly speaks.  “Look at me. Em right now.”

I lift my head off of the bar and I see the seriousness in her face. 
Uh oh.
 

“Don’t you dare degrade yourself.  I’m not playin’ with you.  You are one of the strongest, sweetest, most amazing females I’ve ever met.  You faced more adversity and pain than anyone I know.  I don’t know anyone who could go through the shit you’ve gone through in the past few months and come out on the other side with as much strength as you have.  Every morning, when I see you before I head out to work, I have so much pride in knowing that you are my friend.  That a girl as feisty and strong as you is actually my friend. “

She slaps her hand down on the bar, again and carries on with her sermon.

“Don’t you dare say that shit about yourself again.  You aren’t broken
, Emma.  You’re healing, and it takes time.” She closes her eyes and opens them to look at Olivia.

I don’t know who
this
Emma she is talking about or what she thinks she sees in me but I am not that girl she is describing.

“Holly’s right
, baby doll.  You gotta lose that shit.  It ain’t you,” Olivia adds.

Holly pours tequila into a shot glass and takes it straight with a wince and a loud exhale.

“Tell me how you really feel,” I quip.

All three of us start to
laugh a tequila-induced cackle.

“Oh!  Ladies.  Tristan is hosting a women’s self-defense class at his st
udio tomorrow night.  He insisted that we show up, so I told him we’d be there,” Olivia states.

“Really?  As in
‘kick some ass’ self-defense?” Holly inquires.

“Is there any other kind where Tristan is involved?” I point out more as a statement than a question.

Tristan Holt is a-six-foot-five tall stud of a man.  Totally drips hotness like his brother, but he’s not quite as hot as Braden.  My opinion could be biased though, considering that I have never and probably will never find another man hotter than Braden Holt.  Thirty-two years old with the body of a football player.  His hair was dark, but unlike Braden, who keeps his hair close to his head, Tristan wears his longer.  It is thick and wavy and a lot of times unruly, but it works wonders for him.  He also dons tattoos and eight-pack abs.  The gods were smiling when they created this family.

He owns the jiu
-jitsu studio downtown and has had some very high-profile fighters join his ring.  It is a UFC lover’s dream.  If Barbie were a cage fighter, that would be her dream house.

“Tristan was
talking about how they thought us”—she points her finger at all of us—“chicks needed to learn a thing or two about how to incapacitate someone if the moment were to arise.”

I drain my fourth margarita. 
Since my head is spinning enough, I think I should probably take it easy on the great margarita murdering spree.

I shrug my shoulder, look to Holly
, and blurt out, “Why the heck not.” 

Olivia squeal
s in my ear, a high-pitched one at that.  Holly bounces up and down, clapping her hands like a damn seal.

I guess I
am going to learn the art of being a badass chick.

******

Holly and I meet Olivia outside Tristan’s studio downtown.  The studio is located about two miles from Holt's, off the beaten path and mingled in with a residential community.  We are all decked out in our best workout gear.  And when I say best workout gear, it is basically sporty tanks and yoga pants.  We don’t work out much.

At best
, I go jogging for a couple of miles a few times a week just to clear my head, but I have one of those bodies that is easy to maintain.  Good genes I suppose.  Getting Holly or Olivia to go with me always turned out to be me going by myself after begging for a good thirty minutes.

We walk in
, giggling at Olivia’s new choice of green highlights.  I swear the girl changes hair color like she changes men—a new one every couple of weeks.

The studio
is in an old warehouse, which was clearly used for storing cargo.  It still has a garage door lining the back wall, which Tristan decided he wanted to keep because some nights, many of his clients came and it would get hot with all of that testosterone emanating as they pounded each other’s heads into the mats.

The whole back half of the studio
is nothing by mats.  There is an octagon-shaped ring in the middle.

Holly and I follow Olivia to the back
, where we put our bags and take off our shoes. 

“He would freak if he saw us in our shoes on his grappling mats
,” Olivia points out.

I
don’t want to see Tristan freak.  I don’t think anyone wants to see him freak.

“Good evening
, ladies,” Tristan booms at us with a grin on his face.

He is gorgeous, hair unruly, only it really works for him.  His eyes are dark brown to match his hair, his jaw is strong, and he sports the same exact dimple that Braden does.  They even share the same nose, only Tristan doesn’t have the bump in the middle.  His arms are strong, and the left is covered in a sleeve of tattoos with skulls, flames, hearts, and flowers.  If he weren’t already beautiful, the eight-pack abs, beautiful chest, and perfect V at the hips would do it.

“Hi, Tristan,” Holly, Olivia, and I greet collectively.

“We’re here to become badass chicks,” I tell him with my super extreme intimidating snarl and flexing my muscles.

“Mmmm hmmm—I can see that,” he says as he pulls me in and gives me a hug, lifting me off of the floor.

I squeal.  It
’s involuntary, but it’s a squeal nonetheless.

He greet
s Holly with a hug and his sister with a tousle of her new green hair.

“I have recruited some partners for you girls tonight,” Tristan informs us, peering over our heads.

Partners?  Okay.  I turn around, and I don’t know why I am even shocked to see Braden and Juice walking up to us looking sexy as all hell.

Hummana!

I smile at Braden and bite my lip—another one of those involuntary reactions that really gets on my nerves.

Braden throws an arm around my shoulders and curls me into him.  My front collides with his side.  He is wearing running pants and a black Under Armour tank.  Delicious.

Apparently my libido has made a comeback.

He and I have been spending a lot of time together
, talking and hanging out, and I have really enjoyed doing so.

I make an audible sigh and Braden’s body starts to shake.  I squint my eyes at him.  The bastard is laughing.  I roll my eyes and he laughs harder.

Yep. Bastard.

Tristan claps his hands to get our attention.  “All right, ladies. Tonight we’re going to learn the basics of self-defense.  Juice, you’re with Olivia, and Holly, you’re with me.  Shall we begin?”

“Hell yeah
!” Holly exclaims, jabbing her fists of fury out and dancing around from foot to foot. 

Oh brother.  Now she’s a boxer.

“Okay, first off, the best self-defense is to never put yourself in a vulnerable situation.  Always be vigilant of your surroundings.  You feel me?”

“I’d like to feel you,” Holly shamelessly responds, and
it’s as if she doesn’t realize she said it out loud until her face gets beet red.

We all erupt into laughter.  Braden squeeze
s my shoulder and smiles down at me.

“Running is the best self-defense move, and putting distance between you and your attacker should always be your first priority.  If
, by chance, running is not an option, I am going show you a few moves that could possibly get you out of a dire situation.  Holly, I’m going to give you a chance to
feel
me now, darlin’.  Bring your fine ass over here.” Tristan winks.

“Wooooooo,” we collectively holler and start howling again.

Holly jumps up and down, clapping in place before she skips her way over to Tristan.

“If you're being attacked, there's a good chance that the assailant is going to grab you by the wrist at some point, whether it's to force you to go somewhere with him or to keep you from hitting
him back. To get out of this hold, remember that the weakest point of his grip is where his thumb and fingers meet.” He takes hold of Holly’s wrist to demonstrate. “Rotate your wrist so that the thumb side of your forearm is at the weak point in his grip and pull your arm out of his hand in that direction. If he's much stronger than you, use your free hand to grab your fist and put more power behind your pull.” 

After showing us a few times
, he has us demonstrate on our partners.

“Ummm
…Tristan?” I say, holding up my hand.

“Baby, put down your hand.  You’re not in elementary school,” Braden mumbles.

Whatever.

“Yeah, Emma
?”

“After we get out of
the potentially deadly wrist hold, do we gouge his eyes out, kick him in the balls, or punch him in the throat?”

Tristan’s eyes
get big and everyone laughs.  I look down at my feet and kick at imaginary rocks.

“I didn’t think that was so funny,” I mumble at my feet.

“For your safety and for better chances of not getting into further trouble with your attacker, I would suggest you run.”

Run?  I would have preferred for him to say
I should gouge his eyes out, kick him in the balls, or punch him in the throat.

I shrug.  “K
ay.”

Tristan
shakes his head. “Remember this. You have more leg strength than your arm strength.  A simple kick can be a fast way to get away from an attacker. To get the full force of your leg behind the kick, use the heel of your foot to make contact with the attacker.” Again, he uses Holly, only this time, he walks her through the motions. “In a stomp kick, you bring your knee up and drive your heel down as hard as possible. If you do this on an attacker's foot, you might be able to break some toes to keep him from running after you.  So you want to stomp kick on his instep or the shoelace part of his foot rather than his toes. If you're wearing heels, and I know you ladies well enough to know that you live in those goddamn things, they can act as a weapon.”

“No shit,” Braden and Juice mumble in unison.

Once again, we break off and practice on our partners.   I stomp on Braden’s foot so hard that he yelps. I apologize but do it again for good measure.  I am really starting to like this.

“Ummm
, Tristan?”

“Em
, darlin’, just fucking run.”

“OOOKAAY!”

“Now,” Tristan goes on, holding Holly in a bear hug from behind, a position she appears to be enjoying a little too much, “I want you to remember this combo if you are ever attacked from behind.  Solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin.”  He lightly runs his nose up her neck. “Damn you smell good, cupcake.”

“Bro!” Braden holler
s.  “Come on, man.  Can we finish here first and then y’all can get a room?”

I giggle, which is followed by Olivia, which sets off Holly, who makes Tristan laugh, who makes Juice yell, “Woot!” which makes Braden sigh.

“I can’t help it if my partner happens to be sexy as all hell,” Tristan responds, and his face gets all serious.

Holly’s body still
s. 

Tristan let
s go and smacks her ass before winking at her.  “Come here, Juice.  I need to demonstrate this next one on a man.” Juice makes his way over to Tristan. “If you're grabbed around the waist, stomp hard on his instep and follow it with a kick to the groin by bringing your foot up behind you between his legs so your heel makes contact with his dick.”

Juice jump
s back.  “Whoa, dude!  What the fuck?  I didn’t sign up for that shit.”

“Relax
, Juice.  I’m just demonstrating.  No contact, you pussy.”

“I’m no pussy
. I eat pussy. I play with pussy.”  Juice says, enlightening us all.

Tristan
shakes his head and continues.  “You pry his hands off of you by forcefully pulling back his fingers and finish the fucker off with an elbow to the face.” Tristan looked at me.  “Got that?  Now that’s when you get to be a badass chick.”

Hell yeah!
  I bounce up and down.  “Let’s practice, Braden.”  I am smiling so big my face hurts.

As soon as we get to the groin part, Braden steps back and says, “Remember, this is just practice.  I do want to have children someday.”

I giggle and nod that I understand.

We go on like this for another hour, learning how to smack a dude in the chin with the heel of our palm, how to gouge a dude’s eye out, how to properly
head-butt a dude, and how to execute the grab, twist, and pull technique.  That is definitely my favorite part of the class, and Braden can tell by the gleam in my eye.  But he won’t let me practice that one on him.

We learn how to get out of front and rear chokehold
s, and I won’t lie—those freak me out a little. So bad so that when Braden clutches me by the back of the neck, I not only successfully get him to the ground, but I lose my ever-loving mind.

I scream and kick him in the ribs while he is down.  Juice puts a hand on my shoulder and I lurch around, punch him square in the jaw, and repeatedly wail on him.  It’s like an out-of-body experience.  I am feeling myself do this, but I am not in control of my actions. 

Before I know it, I am being lifted off my feet from behind by an arm around my middle.  I violently thrash my arms and legs around, kicking and hitting as much as I possibly can.  I scratch and scream, and I hear his voice.  His soft, soothing, sweet voice.

There are
two female gasps of air and two males say, “Holy shit!”

“Em
, stop!”

I still in Braden’s arms, l
ay my head back on his shoulder, and burst into a round of ugly tears.  My entire body is shaking.  I can’t stop shaking and crying.

Once Braden puts me on my feet, holding me up with his arm around my waist, he takes my weight and we both sit on the mat.  I bring my knees to my chin, curling my arms around them, my forehead to my knees just like a child.  Braden sits behind me with his arms protectively around me, holding me tight, making me feel like I am in the safest place in the world.  And at that very moment, I truly sense like I am.

They let me finish having my breakdown.

I look up at all of them and melt against Braden, wipe my eyes, and see their shocked faces.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, shaking my head and covering my eyes with the palms of my hands.  “I’m so, so sorry,” I repeat.

Juice kneels in front of me, placing his hands on my knees. “Think nothin’ of it, boss.  You can pay me back with a couple of extra shifts next week.  I just bought a new ride and I need some new rims.” He winks and pats me before he stands.

They keep staring at me like I am a freak.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a freak,” I say aloud.

Braden tightens his hold and before loosening it, standing up behind me and bringing me up with him.  He crushes me to him, my cheek on his chest, his hand cupping the side of my head, and his chin on the top of my hair.

I close my eyes and breathe deep.

“Baby, we gotta talk.”

“Not now, Braden.  Later.”

He pushes me back slightly nodding in agreement, bringing his forehead down to mine and closing his eyes.

“Later.  But, we’re gonna have that talk.”

I put my hands on his chest
, then his shoulders, and now around his neck.  I can’t get close enough.  He tightens his hold on me once again and stoops down, links his arm around my knees, and lifts me into his arms.

He kiss
es my forehead.  “I’m taking you home,” he informs me in a hushed voice.

This
is Braden’s protective macho man taking over, and right now, I am so weak from all of the emotion and fight that I can’t argue.