1 Last Shot (The Fight Game, #4)

by Nikki Castle

Look, obviously today sucked,"

"Anyone would be scared and questioning their new home after what happened today. But, Isabella, you couldn't be further from the truth with the rest

that bullshit. You're more than capable of living on your own. You've been here a month, and it took you, what, two weeks to get settled? To find a place to live, a job, a new dance studio? Not to mention, you made friends instantly. None of that shit is easy, and I'm assuming you did it without any trouble. Even without the added stre...

"And I'm never going to admit this again, but you actually have one of the best teaching styles I've ever seen—even though you are a pain in my ass during class."

"You're just so bad at it," she says, still laughing softly. But the look she gives me is thankful.

"Today was just a blip, Isabella. I promise."

"Is what happened today a normal part of your life?" she asks softly.

"Short answer is yes," I admit in a tight voice. I clear my throat and force myself to keep talking. "I grew up in a bad part of Baltimore, and I’ve been jumped more times than I can remember. You asked why I was calm today—that’s why. I'm used to it."

"Is that why you started training? You wanted to learn how to fight?"

"I already knew how to fight," I say in a flat tone. "MMA was just an outlet."

got tired of always having to fight,” I add. “I needed to get away from it all." "Or maybe you were tired of surviving," she says absentmindedly, her gaze on where she's twirling her empty mug. "Maybe you wanted to learn how to live, instead."

😭😭⭐

Hours pass before I can bring myself to leave her alone. When I finally lock and triple-check her door, the sky is pink with the breaking dawn.

He opened up to me. He told me about his life experiences, about his childhood. He made me feel better. He made jokes.

I literally run into Kane that I realize how futile my efforts were.

"Are you okay?" he asks in a low murmur. His hands are still on my arms, still holding me steady. And I realize it's the first time in two days that I've felt grounded. "I'm fine," I croak out. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Okay," is all he says.

"Hey," he says in a tight voice. I swallow roughly. "Hey, back," I answer. "I wanted to offer some self-defense lessons,”

“I figure the other day was stressful, and it can't ever hurt to learn, so—" He cuts himself off. "I just thought I'd make the offer. If you were interested."

"Okay," I blurt out before I can lose my nerve. "When?" He seems relieved at my acceptance. "Come to the gym after lunch tomorrow." I give him a shaky smile. "Okay. I'll be there." "Okay," he parrots, his shoulders relaxing. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I didn't hear you come in," he says, his tone apologetic. He wipes the sweat from his eyes with his boxing glove. "Come in. I'm just finishing up."

stairs, I see him striding toward his gym bag and grabbing a towel from it. He hurriedly runs it all over his arms and chest. Then he's reaching for an extra t-shirt, and I realize I'm disappointed when he pulls it over his head. "I got a little carried away with my workout," he admits sheepishly. "I wasn't planning on being sweaty for our lesson."

"It's okay," I rush out. "I'm an athlete too, I'm not scared of sweat."

"Trust me, I know," he says in an absentminded murmur.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get started.” Definitely a risky idea.

“So, when I start to crowd you,” he continues, his voice low, “you’re already ready for it. Ready to react.” He takes a step closer, and then another. I’m frozen, unable to move or look away from his gaze. “Put your hand out straight and tell me to stop,” he says. I extend a hand, albeit shakily. “Stop,” I say. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Tell me again,” he says quietly. I swallow and force out the words, “Step back. Move away from me.” My words sound unbelievable, even to me. “Good girl,” Kane praises, those two words doing more to me than my first boyfriend managed to do in an entire year. I think Kane knows it, too, because his lip twitches when I feel my cheeks flame.

“Ideally, that’s enough to make someone back off,” Kane says—but only after he straightens and seems to refocus. “But if it doesn’t, there are some moves you can easily learn to do. They’re nothing crazy, no flashy ‘technique’ I need to teach you, it’s just a matter of doing enough reps that they become a natural response to somebody crowding your space.” “Hailey said Jax taught her how to bitch slap,”

“She said it’s safer than learning how to punch?”

“She’s probably right. Punches can often br...

“I want you to practice reacting to being grabbed,” he continues. “The easiest is a knee to the balls, so I just want you to do that. Okay?”

When I hear my name murmured in a soothing tone. "Isabella," I hear in a quiet voice. "It's okay. Isabella."

"I'm sorry," I blurt. "When you grabbed me, I… I mean, I thought…" "It's okay," he reiterates. "I get it, trust me. I—” He hesitates before he admits the next part. "I get flashbacks sometimes, too. They're totally normal."

"Over time, yeah. But it helped a lot to learn self-defense. It’s more of a mental exercise than a physical one, but I swear it helps." I look down at my clenched fists. "So… do you see your opponent and then picture them when you train? Or how does it help?"

"I'm going to rush you, and when I don't respond to you holding your space, react the way your body tells you to. Slap me, kick me, do whatever your body tells you to do when dealing with a threat. Don't worry about me, just react the way you think you should. And take control of the memory."

"Stop." He doesn't stop. He keeps coming, his slow pace screaming 'predator.' "I said stop," I repeat. "Don't come any closer."

don't think, I just do. My knee comes up and slams into his groin. And the second he doubles over, I aim a vicious slap at his face.

after a moment, it does fade. And instead of the mugger, I see Kane on his knees, hunched over as he cups between his legs. "Oh my God," I breathe in horror. "Oh my God, Kane."

help. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea I was going to do that, I didn't want to hurt you—"

"That was amazing," he laughs. "If I wasn't prepared to catch that knee to my thigh, you definitely would have smashed the fuck out of my nuts."

😂😂😂😂

had to throw him down the stairs." Isabella gapes at me. "You had to?"

😂😂

"It was my first night. I had to prove my worth." Isabella lets out a disbelieving giggle at that. “Do you ever run into them on the street and think, Oh look, that’s the guy I threw out last night?”

“Actually, that first guy? The one I threw down the stairs? His face is on a huge billboard on 95. I see him every day.” "Oh my God, are you ta...

that outrageous real estate billboard coming down from ...

"Is that the guy you're talking about?" he presses. "Because I've always wondered if he's as much of a tool as he looks." "He is," I confirm dryly.

"Why are we talking about Angry Man’s bouncing mishaps?" I quirk an eyebrow before I can stop it. "Angry Man?" He shrugs, looking completely unapologetic. "If the shoe fits." "You're an idiot," I grumble.

"So people tell me," he says with a sigh.

"He admitted to Kane that he calls him Angry Man,"

"Ow," he mutters, rubbing his head and glaring at Remy. "I was just making small talk. He's been here for weeks, and none of us have ever talked to him. I was trying to break the ice." He turns his attention to Isabella. "I didn't know he even cared to exchange words. Apparently, I'm just not his type."

Isabella blushes as everyone's attention zeroes in on her. She trips over an answer, hurrying to downplay the situation.

“And that could’ve been answered with a simple ‘he throws people down stairs,’” Aiden says pointedly. “Yet, somehow, you got a whole story.”