Being Emerald. Sylvia Ryan

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СКАЧАТЬ her all the knobs and buttons, how to adjust her mirrors. Outside, he ran down the vehicle’s capabilities as well as simple maintenance like changing a tire and adding radiator fluid. Then he quizzed her until she was easily able to toss the information back at him. He smiled at her self-satisfied expression.

      “Okay, good. Now I want you to remove a tire and put it back on.”

      She stood next to the front passenger side tire, hands on her hips, while he sat on the passenger seat, legs hanging out the open door. She gaped at him, ready to protest, so he leveled a serious stare at her. “I’m waiting.”

      Several beats passed before she finally rolled her eyes, dropped her hands from her hips and proceeded to crack and remove the lug nuts one by one. It took significant effort on Rock’s part not to help her as she wrestled the huge tire from its perch. She lost her grip and tumbled onto her ass then pointed at him and glared. “Don’t you dare!”

      The effort to keep a straight face was no doubt worth it because she didn’t look daggers at him very long. She successfully removed the tire the second time around, brushed dirt off her hands and rear end then looked to him. “I’m going to need some help lifting the tire back on.”

      “Yes. You are,” he said straight-faced, but stayed put.

      She raised her eyebrows. “Well? Are you going to help me?”

      He shook his head. “If you’re changing a tire by yourself, it’s a given I’m dead. You need to be able to figure out how to do it yourself.”

      Her eyes bugged and jaw unhinged. The possibility he could die, leaving her out there to fend for herself, had never occurred to her.

      “You also need to learn how to keep that expression in check. You wear all your feelings on your face. Shielding your thoughts and feelings from others is absolutely necessary, if you find yourself in trouble.”

      “Okay.”

      Laila looked around the fenced-in lot that held the recovery vehicles and found a cement block and a board behind one of the sheds.

      She trudged toward him, dragging the board. Laughter fought to burst from his lips as she blew a stray curl of hair out of her face and glared a hole right through him. He was going to burst a blood vessel with the strain of holding it in.

      She set her jaw and got to work, ignoring him. She was feisty and proud. Not the type of woman who’d quit until the job was complete.

      By the time she’d maneuvered the tire back on the vehicle, Laila was sweaty and covered with the rust-colored dust that seemed to permeate everything because of the hot, dry summer. She was a sight to see, eyes alight, face red and splotchy. Standing there, with her hands on her hips, she was raging innocence clashing with pure stubbornness. Made him hard all over again.

      “Nicely done,” he said, jumping down from his seat. He caught her by the wrist, pulled her to him and rewarded her with a smacking kiss on the lips, then set off toward his vehicle.

      “What was that for?”

      “You did well. You get a kiss.” She scrambled to catch up to him. “Let’s get some lunch. You’re going to need some fuel for this afternoon.”

      “But—”

      “Don’t question your training,” he said.

      Her fists balled at her sides and her lush pink lips pressed tightly against one another.

      He slapped her on the ass. “Good girl.”

      She growled at him and he nearly lost it again. “What are we doing this afternoon?”

      “Lunch first. Then, this afternoon and every afternoon until our go date will be spent on self-defense.”

      “You’re going to fight me?”

      “No, you’re going to learn to defend yourself in all situations. You’ll be carrying a side arm and a small knife while we’re out of the city. I want you to be passable in the use of both in addition to being able to take a man down with neither.”

      They sat in the shade of a metal storage shed, eating the sandwiches and fruit he’d packed before they left the house. Sweat-soaked and wilting in the midday heat, Laila looked like she wanted to go home. “Ready to get started?” he asked her.

      “Ready is not the word I’d use to describe how I feel right now.”

      His hard heart melted a little as he pulled her to her feet. Yet, he refused to go easy. He kept her hand in his and walked with her to the path of worn grass running around the perimeter of the compound. Without letting go, he began to jog.

      “Ugh. No. Please.” She tried to pull her hand out of his.

      “I’ll let you go if you promise to keep up.”

      “I don’t know if I can.”

      “You can, and you will.” He kept a tight grip on her until she agreed. “It’s only a mile today.”

      “Only? Today? It’s eighty-five degrees out here, and I’m exhausted from this morning.”

      Rock swatted her ass. “Quit complaining.”

      She put some space between them, but also finished the mile without comment. He loved her stubbornness and strength of character. The challenge teased him.

      When they were done, her black T-shirt was gone and the tank top she’d worn underneath was wet and sticking to her back. Her cheeks were beet red, and damp tendrils of hair encircled her face. She was beautiful in misery. Rock experienced a flash of compassion, knowing the brutal pace he’d set. But the training had to progress in order for her to be prepared for the trip.

      He brought water to her where she lay flat on her back in the little piece of shade she’d found. “You have fifteen minutes.”

      “Until what?”

      “Until we finish our conditioning.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “Crunches, pushups and squats.”

      Her eyes snapped open.

      He smiled. “The glare again. Cute.” He turned and walked toward the main structure, housing the break room. After he’d gotten almost out of earshot, she said something unintelligible. With a wide grin, he entered the building. “Yeah. Feisty and cute.”

      The fifteen-minute break passed in the blink of an eye, and after giving Laila a new bottle of water, he pulled her up from the ground. She groaned.

      “You sore?”

      “Dying maybe, maimed perhaps, but sore definitely doesn’t cover it.”

      “The more you move, the better you’ll feel.” Rock grasped her hand again and slowly led her into the armory and shooting range, where he delivered his first lesson on the assembly, disassembly and safety features of her side arm.

      “Can I shoot?” She’d perked up. СКАЧАТЬ