“What about the last one?” I ask, my breath coming in gasps. “Strike?”

“That one’s self-explanatory,” he growls. And then he comes for me, stick raised.

I step to the side and meet his stick as it comes down, trying to make it bounce off to the side. Instead, it comes the other way and hits my shoulder.

“Owww! That hurt, goddammit!” I nearly trip on myself trying to get away from him. My striking arm feels dead now. I can barely raise my weapon.

“Say goodnight,” Dev says, circling around and stepping toward me.

I lift my weapon up to thigh level and put my other hand on top of it, making a big letter T. “Time out!”

“No time outs! Just death to the loser!” He lets out a really loud war cry and comes for me.

I drop my right arm and throw the stick into that hand.

Dev’s arm is above him as he prepares to take a swing designed to bring me down.

I swing the singlestick now in my right hand at his ribs as hard as I can.

The look on his face when I make contact is comical.

Shock. Pain. Anger. Pain again.

I jump out of the way as he trips on his own feet and goes down to the mat. His singlestick drops from his hand and rattles across the concrete floor as he curls into a ball.

“Ohhh shit,” he moans, “I think you cracked my rib.”

I lean on my singlestick, bent over trying to catch my breath. I don’t know how much of my inability to breathe is from the workout and how much is from being scared to death. I can’t believe I just did that.

“Sorry,” I huff out between respirations.

“Don’t apologize.” He groans a few times. “Dammit, did I see you switch hands?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell . . . are you ambidextrous?”

I cringe. “A little?”

He moans and then he starts laughing. Then he moans some more. “Oh, shit, that hurts.”

The door above the stairs opens, and Ozzie comes down with Thibault. When they see us below, they pick up the pace, jogging across the floor to where we are.

“What happened?” Thibault asks.

“He says I cracked one of his ribs.”

Thibault has to turn around so Dev won’t see him smiling.

Ozzie crouches down and puts his hand on Dev’s shoulder. “Can you get up?”

“With a little help from my friends,” he says. His voice expresses his pain very clearly, making me feel even worse.

“I’m so sorry, Dev. Really. I shouldn’t have hit you so hard.”

He leans up with Ozzie’s help. “Don’t apologize.” He holds his hand on his ribs. “That was awesome. Told you . . . perfect cover.” He winces as he tries to move.

“Hospital?” Thibault asks Ozzie.

“Get him up first. Let me take a look.” Together they get Dev on his feet. It’s not an easy job since he’s at least a full foot taller than Thibault. Ozzie does most of the work. He runs his hands gently over Dev’s rib cage.

Dev stands slightly hunched over, still wincing.

“What happened, man?” Thibault asks him.

“She tricked me.”

My jaw drops open. “Tricked you? I did no such thing.” I point my stick at him. “He just jumped right into the training! No wax on, wax off, nothing—just whack, whack, whack! Block, evade, defend . . .”

“Deflect, not defend,” Dev says.

“Whatever! You came at me too fast! I didn’t have a choice.” I drop my gaze to the mat. I feel guilty. Why, I don’t know, since I was just defending myself. I’m just glad I didn’t have a Taser handy. I would have electrocuted him and whacked him with my stick.

“What’s going on?” Toni asks from the top of the stairs.

“Bo Peep got the drop on Dev,” Thibault explains.

Toni shakes her head in disgust and walks back into the room upstairs.

Great. Just what I needed—Toni pissed at me for this too.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine. I think it’s just bruised.” He stands up straight and then immediately bends a little again. “Maybe.”

Ozzie points to the warehouse door. “Get it X-rayed.”

Dev shuffles off, but he looks over his shoulder as best he can when he’s a few feet away. “Keep the stick. Practice. You won’t get so lucky a second time.”

“I’ll drive him,” Thibault says. He walks over to me and puts his hand on my upper arm. “Well done. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You won fair and square.”

I try to smile, but it comes out more like I have stomach pains. “Thanks, Thibault.”

He winks. “Don’t mention it. It’s not often we see the giant brought to his knees.”

I try not to feel proud about being the one who did it, but it’s kind of hard when he calls Dev a giant. He is pretty big. Our fight probably looked like the legendary David and Goliath death match.

I catch Ozzie watching me when Thibault is getting into the car with Dev.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head, his expression a mystery. “Nothing.”

“Can I go home now?” I say, almost pleading. I look over at my Sonic. “I need a shower, I need to change clothes, and I’m tired of all this fighting stuff.”

He walks over and puts his hand on the back of my neck, leaning down to look me in the eye. “Your home is here now, remember?”

I blink a few times but don’t reply. Mixed emotions overwhelm me. I’m happy, scared, and sad all at the same time. I think it’s possible I’m PMS-ing. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

“Go on up. Do whatever you need to do. The afternoon briefing starts in an hour.”

I nod. He’s probably going to want to review what I saw on the tapes today, so I guess my day isn’t over yet. I walk over to my car, but only to put the singlestick inside. I’ll practice later when I’m gone from here. Maybe I’ll have time to go see Jenny. She’ll get a kick out of the primitive weapon, and I know for a fact that Sammy will want to hit some trees or lawn furniture with it.

Getting up the stairs is an adventure. I have to use the railing to pull myself up. I’ve definitely overdone it. No sex for me tonight.

How is Ozzie going to feel about that? Does he expect sex from me now? Is he thinking about it too, the way I have been all day? He’s probably way cooler about it than I am. I’m sure he can handle working and living with me without losing his mind, unlike me.

Emotions rise up and start to overwhelm me. What in the hell am I doing here? I can’t live with Ozzie! I can’t get into stick fights with coworkers! This is ridiculous! I’m a wedding photographer, for God’s sake!

I pull my phone out of my pocket when I reach the top of the stairs and pull the door open. I need some sister therapy, stat.

Jenny picks up on the second ring, thank goodness. “Hello, little sister! What’s up?”

I walk through the kitchen without saying anything to Toni. “Just calling to chat.” I wait until I’m in the bedroom with the door shut before I start to cry.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Hey, hey, hey, what’s up with the tears?” she asks, making me cry harder. Whenever she acts like my momma, that’s what happens. Total boober baby, every time.

I talk around the weeping. “I don’t know. I just needed to hear your voice and have you tell me I’m not being a stupid idiot over here.”

“Over where, honey?”

She doesn’t know what happened last night and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t tell her. She’ll make me move into her house, and I can’t do that. If there is a threat against me—which I highly doubt there is—I can’t bring it into her home. She really is a soccer mom. Or she will be when one of her kids decides to start playing that sport.

“I’m at work,” I explain.

“Why are you crying at work? Were they mean to you?”

I laugh through the tears. “No, they weren’t mean. They’re very nice.” Except for Toni, but we won’t mention her.