The Ripple Effect

  It was that very thing—thinking of vampires—that had caused the injury. One slip, dropping my guard, had almost caused me a lot of pain. That wasn’t the bad thing, though. It was knowing Mike would feel guilt over it, upset at himself for hurting a woman. That wasn’t the purpose of the class, or why he offered the lessons free of charge. He wanted to help women, not dismantle them piece by piece.

  “I really need these lessons.” So fucking true it wasn’t even funny. Without Mike, I would be hopeless. He’d taught me so much since I’d come to New York. True, I worked out daily if possible, but learning to get flexible and use your body as a weapon had its uses as well. A pretty body didn’t mean shit if you didn’t know how to use it, to wield your fists or direct essential kicks. The bag could never teach me those things. It would continue hanging from the ceiling, mocking me to do my worst.

  “Do you mind telling me why? Learning to break someone’s neck isn’t what most women ask to learn when they come to my class.” He crossed his arms over his chest and set his feet. He wasn’t going anywhere without an answer.

  “It never hurts to be prepared,” I offered, hoping he’d take me at my word.

  He didn’t.

  “Is someone fucking with you?” He went from angry at me to angry at the person he created in his head. “If so, you need to talk to someone. Love isn’t supposed to hurt.”

  I would have smirked, but then I wouldn’t have a gym to visit. Besides, it wasn’t funny. Domestic violence wasn’t cool. Mike had taken up the cause—extending his gym to create a new room used entirely for martial arts and self-defense—of teaching women how to defend themselves. His mother had suffered beatings from his stepfather, something he’d shared with the class a few weeks before when someone had gotten inquisitive. I was shocked the bulky, usually carefree and easygoing man, had went there, unlocking and revealing the demons of his past. But he did, informing us all why he’d started taking various styles of martial arts at an early age, why he felt it was so important a woman know how to defend herself. Or, more importantly, ask for help if she needed it.

  “No one is fucking with me.” Not yet, anyway. “You said I was too advanced for the class. I took you up on the offer to teach me more.” I considered asking him about the weapons training he’d promised—eager to learn all the ins and outs of the Bo—but the scowl he directed at me kept my yap shut.

  “I’m not teaching you more until you’re honest with me.” He walked to the side table to get a spray bottle of disinfectant to clean the mats we’d pulled out. “My responsibility is to help you learn. I can’t do that if you’re not here. And when I say here, I mean in this room. You can’t be a million miles away.”

  His message was loud and clear. Class was over.

  I walked over to my bag to collect a towel, wanting to wipe the sweat from my face and neck. “Did you hear about the strippers near the club?” I asked, curious if someone had shared something about the murders at the gym. Perhaps one of The Grind dancers had offered information. A few of the girls came to Mike’s Gym, since it was cheap and the owner didn’t mind giving out advice without charging outrageous fees.

  He stopped mid-spray and looked at me. “Is that what has you worried?”

  “Shouldn’t it?” I retrieved my towel and sighed as I swiped the soft cloth over my face.

  “Cletus and Butch wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”

  “Not at the club,” I agreed, rubbing the towel against my neck, “but there isn’t much they can do when I make the trip home.”

  “Shit.” He clenched the bottle, his knuckles turning white. “Do not tell me you’re still not taking a cab. It’s not only dangerous not to use public transportation, it’s stupid.”

  “I’ve had the same routine since I started working at the BP. I’m not changing it now.” I reached for my bottle of water, my throat suddenly dry as the desert.

  Mike’s sigh didn’t sound promising. “All the training in the world won’t protect you against a gun. You can’t walk away from a bullet.”

  Or things with fangs and claws. “That’s true,” I conceded a second time. Agreeing with Mike was a good thing. It did positive things, like boost his ego. “But word is the dancers who died were killed by a knife. I can stop a knife with the proper training.”

  “Stop a knife? You’re serious.”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “You are something else.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was giving me a compliment or a veiled insult. “I try to be an individual. It’s all the rage.”

  “An individual who is going to keep being stubborn and get herself killed.” He snorted, sounding like an ornery bull. “Those are the crimes I hate most, ones that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. You should follow the rules if you want to survive.”

  “Like horror movie rules? No sex or you die. No going off by yourself or you die. No best friends because they’ll turn out to be killers and you’ll die.”

  This time when he looked at me, his dark brown eyes narrowed. “Just like the horror movie, only at the end you’ll be dead—really dead. After the credits, you won’t walk the red carpet talking about grueling nights of filming or the contents of fake blood. You’ll be six feet under.”

  Ouch. Not the Mike I knew. He wasn’t usually so gruff.

  “I’m not trying to piss you off.” Smartass comments were forced to the back of my mind. I needed Mike and what he offered. Taking a tinkle in his Wheaties would not benefit my cause. Besides, he was one of the good guys. “If I did, it wasn’t my intention.”

  “Then take a cab instead of walking home from work, at least until they catch the asshole.” He pivoted around and returned to his task. “You’re just a woman. And before you take that as an insult, remember that it’s not me that made it so. Men are born bigger and stronger. Women got the short end of the stick. There’s no shame in admitting it.”

  No shame at all, but I wasn’t going to give any man power over me because the Holy Creator made women deceptively compact. A small woman was just as capable of inflicting damage as a big man. “So it’s a good thing we have you to teach damsels in distress how to properly kick some ass.”

  His laugh lacked substance. “If only. One man can only do so much.”

  The bottle of water stopped mid-way to my mouth. Mike had no idea just how wrong he was. Some of the things he’d taught me had saved my life. Truth be told, several of the things he’d taught me had saved my life.

  “You’re wrong.”

  Tugging on a mat, he huffed. “Is that so?”

  “You’ve given the women who come here hope.” Hope they needed to make a fresh start, to stop being afraid of the dark, to face their fears. “They know they don’t have to depend on someone else to take care of themselves. You’ve given them what they need to move forward.”

  I glanced outside the glass to the gym. One woman—Gloria—showed up like clockwork. Her face was permanently damaged thanks to the beatings she took for years. Now, with Mike’s help, she was rebuilding her life and putting it back together again.

  “Take her for instance.” I lifted my hand, indicating Gloria. “When she started class, she was terrified of her own shadow. You’ve given her power and freedom. You’ve shown her that she can stand on her own two feet.”

  “She’s just one of many, but I can’t help them all, not if they won’t let me.” He flipped the mat over and rotated again, facing me. “Like you. You keep people at a distance, so no one ever has the chance to get to know you. I don’t know who it was that messed you up so bad, but you still can’t let it go. Until you do, your past will control you.”

  Yep, that was me in a nutshell. When did Mike become the fucked-up people whisperer?

  “Maybe you should keep that in mind when I ask for help. Since I appear to lack the common sense you wish I had, maybe it would be best if you taught me how to fight myself out of a tight spot. Who knows? Maybe over time I can let my guard down a bit and star
t living the life you want me to.”

  He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “There’s always one.”

  I took a drink of water and asked, “One what?”

  “Person who thinks they can go it alone. That nothing can touch them.”

  The two sentences were extremely sobering, summing me up better than I cared for. “I don’t think I’m infallible. I know I can be killed. I’m not Superwoman.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re reckless.” He lowered his hand, studying me again, shaking his head. “I want to help you, but I won’t if you refuse to help yourself.”

  Damn. All of this over a cab ride home? “How about this?” I asked, attempting to find common ground. “I’ll take a cab home, but there’s a condition.”

  This time, his smile was genuine. “What might that be?”

  “Weapons training. I’m tired of waiting.” I glanced at the Bo nestled inside the cage at the side of the room. Okay, so it did remind me of Kung Fu and Kane, but for some reason I really wanted to learn how to use the weapon, to manipulate it in the same way I could my butterfly knives.

  “Done,” he said faster than I’d anticipated. “But I also have a condition.”

  “What might that be?” I repeated his question with a grin, trying to pull him out of his funk.

  “We start small,” he said and walked over to me. When he stopped inches away, he tapped my forehead again, this time softly. “And when you come to class, I want you in class. Nothing else exists outside this room.”

  If only he knew what existed outside the room, he might have a different outlook on life. Mike was a big dude, one who could easily take care of himself. But if he found himself fighting the things I did, he’d understand just how weak he really was. Strength and muscle only got a person so far. Fortunately, he didn’t know about the things that went bump in the night, and I wasn’t going to enlighten him.

  I brought my fingers up and gave him a playful salute. “Consider it done.”

  “Good.”

  “Do we really have to start small?” I couldn’t tell him how quickly I could adapt thanks to vampire blood, but thankfully our time together had proven I was capable—when my head was screwed on tight.

  “Absolutely. You have to crawl before you walk.”

  “Or take a cab before someone gives you the keys to your own wheels,” I quipped, sullen but not caring.

  “Whatever it takes to keep people safe. That’s what’s important.”

  “Even if it means they’ll have to waste perfectly good energy, not to mention cash, to make it happen.”

  “Money doesn’t go with you when you die.”

  “True, but if you’re alive it’s best to have it on hand.”

  “So start budgeting. You’re a smart girl. You can stretch your resources if you have to.” He smiled and strode past me. “If you have anything else to practice, I suggest you hurry up. I have another class coming in a few minutes. As much as I like you, I can’t stand around and hold your hand. Get the hell out of my dojo.”

  “Consider me gone,” I called out to his departing back.

  I took a deep breath, anxious and excited. A bloodsucking knife was great, a gun was even better, but learning how to use other tools of the trade meant I could wield common things as weapons, turning them from simple to dangerous. After all, ass was better kicked when you had Yoda moves and an arsenal at your disposal.

  Just call me a Jedi ninja in training.

  Chapter Eight

  When I left the gym I decided it was time to hit my apartment for the shower I desperately needed. I’d taken the amulet off and placed it in my bag before I’d entered the dojo, which meant I was sore in all sorts of places. The blood Disco had given me helped soothed the aches, but being tossed around by more seasoned members of my class—thrown to the ground and contorted in all kinds of strange ways—made my muscles scream for the steady thrum of hot water on skin.

  I’d just managed to toss on fresh clothes following my shower—shit kickers, a tight black T-shirt, and skinny jeans—when I heard a knock on the front door. The sound was unexpected and put me on alert. I’d already met with Sonja, Deena wouldn’t stop by without calling first, and I couldn’t think of anyone who would want to come by my shabby apartment for a chat.

  I glanced at the duffel on my bed, contemplating if I should get the amulet, when another knock—louder this time—made the decision for me. Whoever had come calling knew I was inside. I slid the necklace over my head and crept to the door, holding my breath.

  “Rhiannon, open up!” Goose snapped and the pounding on the door became constant.

  I exhaled, shaking my head. Ethan McDaniel P.I. had lousy fucking timing.

  Goose didn’t exchange pleasantries when I opened the door. He shouldered past me and strode into my apartment. To my surprise, his hair was messy and his clothing was wrinkled. Very un-Ethan-like. “After what happened yesterday, I expected you to come find me immediately this morning. I thought you’d understand how serious this is.”

  I couldn’t tell him about my meeting with Sonja. There were some things it was best that Goose not know—demon conjuring included. “What can I say?” I said, brushing the comment off, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m slowly coming to awareness.”

  “Don’t be a smartass. We have to talk.”

  “I can see that.” I closed the door and locked it. Yes, it was stupid locking the door considering the things I managed to piss off could probably get inside anyway, but some security was better than none.

  “Where’s the knife?” He turned in a circle, looking around my small apartment as though he had x-ray vision and could locate exactly what he was looking for.

  “It’s not here.”

  “It’s not in Miami. You wouldn’t put it in a place that far away. I’m not stupid.”

  “You’re right.” I walked past him, into the living room. “It’s not in Miami.”

  I gasped when he snagged my arm and spun me around. Goose was never rude, and he was never hands on. That meant something had set him off.

  Not good.

  “Don’t fuck around.” Whoa. This was absolutely not good at all. The hair along my neck rose on end, in a creeped out salute. Goose didn’t curse either. “The situation has gone from bad to worse,” he said, eyes wild. “You have no idea what you’ve done. You have no idea what the hell you’ve done.”

  “Calm down.” I wanted to yank my arm loose, but I didn’t. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Like you’d listen,” he snapped, brown eyes abnormally hostile. “He’ll come, Rhiannon.” Goose grasped my other arm and shook me—hard. “Do you understand? That was why Marius went to see the head of the other vampiric houses last night. He’s making plans for his sire’s arrival. His maker already knows. Do you hear me? Revenald. Already. Knows.”

  Now I knew what Disco wanted to talk to me before Marius interrupted our sexed up conversation. Things had taken a deadly nose dive. I started to hyperventilate, neck deep in quicksand and quickly sinking.

  Count to ten. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. Got it together? Okay, good. Breathe in, breathe out.

  “Knows what?” I managed to ask, trying to keep a level head.

  “That you’re lying. That you’re not telling him the truth. He even suspects the family is being dishonest about your bond with Gabriel and Paine. Gabriel tried to defend you, but considering the nature of your relationship, his arguments fell on deaf ears. You’ve placed us all in the center of something you don’t understand. The ramifications will be more than you can fathom.” He buried his fingertips into my arm. “Revenald is going to come, and no one will be able to help you. Not Gabriel. Not Paine. Not me. For once in your life, you’re going to have to think smart. No more Billy badass. No more thinking you can take on the world. You are going to give him what he wants and you’re going to do it today. Not tomorrow, not next week. Today. If you’re lucky, you can stop all
of this before it starts. Give the family a show of good faith.”

  “If I give him the dagger—”

  “No.” He shook me again, harder. “Not if. When.”

  “Remember our conversations. Without the dagger, I won’t be able to kill Victoria. I’ll be trading one Grim Reaper for another. I’ll be unable to protect myself.”

  His grip loosened marginally. “Revenald can control Victoria. He’s older and more powerful. You’re a part of a feared vampire family, one with resources. It’s time you used them and stopped playing with fate.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe Paine’s ripple effect crap.” Not a good thing to say to a man who was losing his shit. Goose’s lips came together, pressed down, and contorted into a sneer.

  “You want to know what I think about Paine’s theory? I’ll tell you. I think it’s cause and effect. But the people you save won’t be the only ones who pay the price for your decisions. So will you.” He took a deep breath and I wondered if he was counting to ten as I had earlier. When he exhaled, he seemed to have himself under control. He let go of my arms and took a step back. “I want the knife. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. By now you know me well enough to know that.”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said it isn’t here.”

  He presented me with his back and started walking toward the door. “Take me to it. Right now.”

  “I can’t.” I braced myself and he slowly turned and faced me.

  “Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?” The way he said it caused me to feel an undeniable amount of shame. “Can’t you look past your own nose for once? Or is it that”—he stared distastefully at my chest, pointing at the amulet—“cursed thing causing you to be more careless than usual?”

  “Don’t turn this around and make it about something else.”

  “Your problems are one in the same. You’re just too stupid to see it. Ever since you got your hands on that thing, you’ve been blind.”