Page 40 of No Strings

“Ah, no.” God, I’m not in the mood for this.

We have the muster starting tomorrow. The cops are on their way out, so there’s going to be questioning. And now her attitude.

As I walk over to her, she watches me. The closer I get the more narrow her eyes become. Without warning, I pickher up and throw her over my shoulder. She beats on my back, but I ignore it.

Davis mumbled something, but it’s Beau’s response that pisses me off, “Caught them making out earlier.”

Obviously the ‘don’t talk about it’ chat went in one ear and out the other.

I place her down once we get to the front of my place and out of eyesight. There’s a patch of grass under the large gumtree we can work under. Brent gave me a pair of old boxing gloves not long after she got here, but with her injured arm I didn't want to push it. But the stitches are out as of the two days ago. I throw the gloves at her and tell her to put them on.

She looks at them in her hands, then back up at me. “I know how to fight, Rhys.”

“Clearly not. Put. Them. On.”

She puts the gloves on while eyeing me. She’s clearly picked up on my mood, which isn’t hard to do, I’m not being subtle about it. “What the fuck crawled up your ass today?”

A number of things. But the biggest thing is her. She’s fucking with my head.

“Fine, ignore me,” she doesn’t fight the smirk, “I’ll have fun kicking your ass.”

“Bring it, Princess.” I throw my bare hands up.

I just want to gauge how she goes. What sort of strength she has. What sort of combinations she knows and how she punches.

She throws her right hand out wide, followed by her left, then she kicks. I deflect the punches as they come. And when she kicks, I grab her ankle, just holding it, causing her to become unbalanced. Just as she’s about to fall, I let go. She manages to right herself before she falls.

“Come on, thought you said you were going to kick my ass?”

Her eyes narrow, and she attacks again. Same combination, but I don’t catch her foot. I let it connect. She smiles, thinking she won because she made contact.

“Your right hand is going out too wide. Closer to your body.” I show her what I mean by tucking my arm in by my own body. “Protect your body with your arms. Keep your fists by your face.”

She silently watches and then takes the stance. Did she just listen, and not argue? Looking over her stance, I move her feet so her dominant one is behind her.

“Better. Okay, now come at me.” I gesture with my hands in a come here motion.

We go over a few combinations, but she’s growing more and more frustrated. So naturally, I goad her a little.

Holding my hands out wide “Come on, Princess, I won’t stop any of your hits.”

She charges me causing me to fall backwards landing on my ass. She’s on top of me. “I hate you.” She cocks her fist back, and just as she’s about to bring it down I flip us, pinning her hands above her head, my knees either side of her hips.

“I know.”

She’s panting beneath me. Panic flashes in her eyes.

Come on Morgan, beat it. Don’t let it consume you.

As if hearing my thoughts she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. Once, twice. Three times. And when her eyelids flutter open showing off her bright blue eyes, she tells me, “I know how to fight. I used to fight back.”

“Why did you stop?”

“He said he liked it when I did. So, I stopped giving him that.” I watch as tears prick her eyes.

“Morgan.”

She doesn’t respond, just shoves at my chest.