face who tries to start shit with me.”
“And you think a random woman wearing a full face veil and kicking ass is just going to fly right past Rockhurst? He’ll snatch you up before you set foot wherever you’re going.”
“Very well,” I said. “With the understanding that I will buy shampoo, laundry detergent, and food today, what would you suggest instead?”
“I suggest you eat an energy bar and give up on soap,” Loch said. “The more often we’re out, the more dangerous it is.”
He was right, dammit. But if I had to sit and dawdle in this room all day, I’d go crazy. And while I could think of one delicious way we could pass the time, that would complicate matters even more, especially with Bianca’s warning fresh in my mind.
I changed back into the clothes I’d taken from the escape ship. I was frustrated enough that I didn’t even care that Loch was in the room, though I changed my pants under the cover of the tunic and turned my back on him to change my shirt.
The drab camo and black mocked the beauty of my former outfit. Impatience and annoyance nipped at me. I needed to recenter myself before I did something stupid. And while seated meditation was always an option, I needed movement.
I moved to the center of the room, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply through my nose. I held the breath for a few beats then released it through my mouth. Five more deep breaths and I fell into the beginning stance of my short, meditative martial arts form.
Solo, weaponless martial arts forms could be done anywhere with no equipment, so it was something all the von Hasenberg children were taught from a young age. We’d had thirty minutes of practice in various styles before class every day. It helped to build strength and flexibility, but it also helped to calm and center the mind.
I focused on the movements and let the rest of the world fade away. Tension faded, replaced with strength and calm. I finished the sequence and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Loch stood in front of me.
“Care to spar?” he asked.
Chapter 9
There are moments in your life when you absolutely know what you should do and then you absolutely choose to do something else entirely.
This was one of those moments.
“I would love to spar,” I said. “No face, no eyes, no balls, and, for the love of God, pull your punches. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he said. He dropped into a typical mixed martial arts stance. I mirrored his stance and nodded my readiness.
Even obviously slowed down he moved like lightning. I went defensive, dancing out of his reach and deflecting the blows I couldn’t avoid. His form was tight and he didn’t leave openings in his guard. My self-defense tutor would’ve loved him.
“You gonna hit me, darling, or you just gonna dance around?” he asked a few minutes later.
I dodged a slow jab at my side. “Hand-to-hand fighting is a last resort for me, and I generally learned how to do it just long enough to make an opportunity to run.” I blocked a stomach blow then flowed away from a right cross that would’ve clipped my shoulder. “Which means I fight dirty then run away. Since neither of those is an option right now, I’m biding my time.”
Loch stopped attacking and stepped back into a defensive stance. “Your time is now,” he said with a grin. “Bring it on.”
I feinted a right then got through his guard low with my left fist.
“That was well done,” he said. “You didn’t telegraph your intentions at all.”
“My self-defense tutor could be a bitch, but she had my best interest at heart. She taught me well. It’s not her fault that I didn’t take to fighting.”
I jabbed at him a few more times, both straight punches and feints, but now he was on guard and blocked or dodged all my attempts. That was why, in a real fight, the first feint would be followed by the hardest punch I could throw. You only had one chance to surprise an opponent with skill.
Loch struck out with his left fist. I saw the blow too late to do more than tense my ab muscles. Even pulled it landed hard enough to smart. I backed away into a defensive stance.
“Don’t run away,” Loch said.
“I just told you that running away is one of the core pillars of my fighting strategy.”
“Okay,” he allowed, “run away in a