Page 8 of Covert Operation

FOUR

ZEKE

“WE’RE IN HERE today?” Savannah’s pretty eyes bounce around the arena as we step inside.

“Not quite.” I enter the large space, sticking by the wall to avoid the course set up in the center. “We’re going to the sparring room.”

I watch her expression as I reveal our destination, looking for any sign of discomfort with my plan. To my surprise, Savannah smiles.

“Sparring, huh?” She seems almost amused. “You know I’m not trying to be a cage fighter, right?”

A laugh jumps out of me and it’s just as unexpected as her reaction to this morning’s activity.

Savannah laughs along with me. “The thoughtispretty funny.” Her eyes drop, looking over her outfit. For the second day in a row, she’s wearing leggings and a slouchy shirt. Today’s version is a pale turquoise color that sets off the peachy pinkness of her skin. “At least I’m a little better dressed for it than I normally would be.”

“That’s good, because I don’t know how much you’d enjoy doing what you’re about to do in a dress.” I pause, thinking on it for a second. “But you should probably practice all the moves I teach you in a dress since that’s what you normally wear.”

“I like dresses.” She almost sounds defensive. “They make me feel pretty.”

I don’t think as I open my mouth. “You are pretty.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable. They came out all on their own. A simple observation of the truth as I see it. But I know how they come across. What Savannah might believe is behind them.

It’s too late to take them back and too late to amend the statement. Trying to explain it will only make things worse, so I simply go silent, hoping I haven’t ruined everything.

I pull the door to the sparring room a little more forcefully than I need to, letting its momentum guide me to the side so Savannah can go in before me. She grips the bag hooked over her shoulder with both hands as she steps into the mirrored room and takes it in. The floors are covered in thick padded rubber and a stack of mats line the back wall. The smell of the cleaner we scrub them down with after we’re done lingers in the air, mingling with the stale scent of sweat. It’s not the kind of place Savannah should be, but it’s a necessary evil.

“Today I want you to get familiar with how an attack feels.”

Her eyes widen, dark lashes nearly reaching her eyebrows as a pink flush creeps across her skin. “You’re going to attack me?” she squeaks.

I shake my head, wanting to calm her fears. “No.” I brace for her panic. “You’re going to attack me.”

This exercise has two benefits. It will get Savannah used to physical confrontation, and it will put her in the position of power. She’ll be the one to initiate each grapple, and the one to decide when we’re done.

If she only comes at me once, so be it.

Savannah continues to stare at me, that stricken look on her face. “You want me…” She swallows, the delicate line of her throat working the gulp down. “… to attack you?”

“I do.” I cross both arms over my chest as her eyes move down my large frame. “I’m going to show you how I would get free. We’ll practice each maneuver I use, and, when you’re ready, I’ll be the one attacking you.”

Another swallow, this one loud enough I can hear it. “Oh.” She starts blinking faster, shifting on her feet, and I can almost feel the tension oozing from her small body.

“Take a breath, Savannah.” I keep my voice calm. Collected. Even though seeing her like this takes me back to a time in my life I’ve worked hard to compartmentalize.

I can’t forget it. That would be wrong. So I keep it packed away. High on a shelf where I don’t have to look at it every day. Or even every month.

But moments like this knock it right at my feet, spilling the contents everywhere. Forcing me to face them.

“I’m fine,” she squeaks. After pausing to take a breath, eyes closing with the motion, she tries again. “I’m fine. Really.”

I don’t like the wobble in her voice and I don’t like what she just claimed. Not because it’s a lie—which it is—but because she thinks she has to feed it to me.

“You don’t have to be fine, Savannah.” I plan to stop there, but accidentally offer up a peek at the truth I hide. “Most of us aren’t.”

Her eyes snap to my face, sweet and guileless, and for a second I think she’s going to ask me a question I won’t answer. Instead, as she is in the habit of doing, Savannah surprises me.

Squaring her shoulders, she lifts her chin, looking as determined as I’ve ever seen her. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”