“Fine.”
We started out with a slow rhythm. It only lasted a minute.
“Ethan, this isn’t working. You’re blocking too slow.”
Ethan dropped his arms and rolled his shoulders. A blast of frustration hit me. He quickly stifled it.
“Sorry.”
“S’okay.” But it wasn’t. My head was starting to hurt again. If I only had a few hours here, I had to empty myself. Of everything. After that, I would need a nap and probably a bag of ice for my wrist and my face and Ethan’s neck and his shoulder...
Ethan’s gaze flicked to the double doors. Carlos stood there, arms crossed while he watched us. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d followed. Not only was he quiet, but the country was quiet, which meant less emotional noise to notice a void. Plus, he was far enough away that I wouldn’t have pulled in any emotion if he’d actually projected anything.
“Hey, big and broody,” Ethan said. “Come here.”
I smirked. Ethan always tried to rub people the wrong way. He was a product of his upbringing. He didn’t make friends; he made frenemies.
Carlos walked toward us without any indication that Ethan had gotten under his skin. And maybe Ethan hadn’t. I certainly didn’t feel anything from Carlos.
“My shoulder’s not going to cut it. I need you to step in. But there are a few rules.” As he spoke, he walked around me. “You can’t take it easy on her. Ever. Got it?”
Carlos looked from Ethan to me and nodded.
“This isn’t a fight. This is a spar. A very fast, very intense spar. The goal isn’t to hurt one another.”
Carlos nodded again, and I turned to grin at Ethan. He was worried the big guy would hurt me.
“And no aiming for her face. She doesn’t look good with bruises.”
Carlos gave another stoic nod. I still didn’t feel anything from him. If I didn’t feel anything, it would be a lot easier to exercise the emotions I held. This might actually be fun.
Ethan must have been thinking the same thing.
“Go get him,” he said with a slap to my butt.
Before I could move, Carlos blurred. One second he was standing across from us; the next, he was standing before Ethan, his hand wrapped around Ethan’s throat. Ethan’s feet dangled in the air, and his hands flew to the fingers squeezing the oxygen from him.
Fear for Ethan made my temper snap.
“You son of a...” I let loose on Carlos.
His kidneys were my punching bags. I hit hard and managed five rapid blows to each before he dropped Ethan and turned on me. I punched him in the throat and brought him to his knees. He wheezed and looked up at me. I kicked him in the face. Once. Twice. The third time brought him to the ground. I straddled him and drew back, ready to remodel his face.
“Girl, that’s enough,” a voice said. “He’s not fighting back. He won’t.”
I looked up and saw the man with the bright grey eyes standing in the doorway. Carlos moved ever so slightly underneath me, bringing my attention back to him.
His face was marked from the last kick. Why did I feel guilty for that? He’d had Ethan by the throat.
“No one touches Ethan. Ever. Got me?” I punctuated my words with a poke to his very hard chest.
Carlos nodded slowly, and I rose from him. I backed up a step and glanced at Ethan, who sat on the ground rubbing his throat. He gave me a thumbs-up. When I turned back to Carlos, he was standing, too.
“If he has more bruises from that, I’m coming after you.”
“I will let everyone know Ethan’s under your protection,” the grey-eyed man said. “Though, we’re all family here, so I don’t think that’s even necessary.”
“Really?” I said. “Was that an example of how your family treats each other? Some family.”
“Carlos misunderstood the situation when the boy patted your backside.”
The man’s worry carried a hint of humor with it. I didn’t find anything funny. I glanced at Carlos. He was so damn hard to read, but I was pretty sure he didn’t find anything funny, either.
“Ethan knows me. He knows my limits and what I need. There are no situations to misunderstand because when it comes to Ethan, he’s none of your business...unless he’s giving you advice about what not to do around me. Then, you might want to listen. He’s trying to save your lives.”
“I think they get the idea,” Ethan said.
I doubted it. Ethan had pushed me to the edge more times than I could count with his persistent interference. There’d been times I’d wanted to strangle him myself. But love always stopped me. And even when angry, I always knew, deep down, he was saving me from myself.
I turned to look Ethan over. There were new marks on his neck. I narrowed my eyes, and Ethan grinned at me. He knew what I wanted to do.
The mountain would go down for those marks.
“We sparring or not?” I said, focusing on Carlos again.
He lifted his hands. Good. I was ready to make good on my promise. Behind me, music started playing, and I flicked Ethan a dirty look. If he didn’t cut it out, his body was going to hit the floor.
I turned, shifted my balance, and began. Putting my fists up, I edged forward. At the last minute, I kicked out and connected with Carlos’ side and thigh in rapid succession. He tilted his head and studied me as I hopped back and guarded for his attack. Nothing came. Clever. He was learning my moves.
He wouldn’t learn much, though. I wasn’t going to keep this routine. I darted in and clipped his jaw with my damaged hand. He didn’t even try to block the swing. I wanted to follow up with a swing from the other side but wasn’t sure my wrist could take it. I would be a mess if I started to rely on my fists.
The music changed to violin pop. I grinned. Ethan was telling me to use my legs. He knew. Fine. I shifted my balance again and went for Carlos’ head. He let one kick through but blocked the next. My momentum didn’t stop. I twisted and kicked again.
When we were younger, Ethan recorded our fights so I could see how I moved. He compared it to a dancer. I compared it to a cat. Either way, I moved while in the air, looking for an opening and lashing out with feet, knees, or elbows.
Carlos started to block them all. His moves were different from Ethan’s. Softer somehow. It didn’t mean he was less of a fighter. He moved incredibly fast. There was something else to his touch each time we connected; it was like he was trying to maintain the contact, hold onto me.
Sweat trickled down my back, and I noticed a slight glisten on Carlos’ forehead. Good. The music changed again.
I moved faster, spinning and bending, dodging and striking. Carlos and I moved together. It was as if he could read my mind. He met each move and pushed for more with his dark gaze. Several times, I unintentionally left myself open and felt the drag of his fingers on my cheek or sides. Was he just playing with me?
My breathing shortened from the exertion, but I didn’t slow until Ethan called for a break. Someone had brought us water. Ethan handed me a glass. I knew better than to gulp it. But I took a healthy drink.
“Can I borrow that?” Carlos said from right behind me.
I turned and saw he was looking at Ethan’s phone.
“Sure.” Ethan handed it over, and Carlos walked away for a few moments. When he turned back, he tossed Ethan the phone.
“Play that.”
Ethan looked at the screen, frowned for a minute, then caught my gaze and grinned.
“Back in there, kitty cat.”
I gave him my glass and turned just in time to block a quick jab from Carlos. Why did that make me smile?
Music started behind me. It wasn’t a song I knew, but I listened to the words as Carlos and I went through the motions. The beat was perfect and the lyrics inviting. He wanted me to come with him to lose myself tonight. And I did.
The coiled tension that I hadn’t managed to fully exercise with Brick began to ease as I fought Carlos. The relief made me smile as I kicked yet again. Then, Carlos changed the game. His hands closed over my ankle and held me there. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on the exposed skin. Something ignited in me. It wasn’t anger. And it scared me.