Simon Says (4 page)

“Hey, Gregor?”

The giant looked up from his conversation with Dean. His brows lifted in comical surprise.

“Come here.”

Dean turned to glare at her, letting her know without words that her intrusion was unwanted.

Simon didn't say anything either. He just tipped up a water bottle and took a long swig.

Reluctantly, Gregor walked over. “What?”

She indicated he should lean down so she could talk to him without anyone else hearing. With even more reluctance, he bent down.

“Simon's killing you with those kicks.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” He grunted at the obvious. “At least he's not hittin' my liver.”

“A deliberate choice on his part, because he wants to keep practicing.” A liver kick would leave Gregor done for at least an hour.

“What's your point, dollface?”

Gregor looked annoyed enough to send most people scampering away. But Dakota wasn't the least bit intimidated. “I don't think you've noticed, but he's telegraphing those kicks. You can block them if you know what to watch for.”

Bemused with the conversation, Gregor looked back at Simon—who stared at them both with piercing intensity. Proving that he enjoyed provoking his friend, Gregor faced her again. “You don't say?”

She nodded. “Right before he kicks, he tightens his jaw.”

“So?”

“It's an indication of what's to come. I've seen him do it every single time.” Dakota stepped back and put her hand on her right thigh. “You're leading with your right leg, which is why he keeps going after it with that low roundhouse kick. When he tightens his jaw, get ready to lift your leg, like this.” She demonstrated what he should do. “That'll block it, and confuse him at the same time.”

“I know how to block a kick.”

“When you see the kick coming. So far, you haven't seen it, so Simon isn't expecting you to block it. When you do, that'll be your opening.”

Intrigued, Gregor studied her with new awareness. “My openin' for what, exactly?”

She looked around Gregor, saw Simon's scrutiny, and hurried through the rest of her instruction. “You need to get Simon's attention upstairs, instead of downstairs with your legs. Do this.” She demonstrated a fast combination of hits.

“That's a basic combo,” Gregor argued.

“Yeah, but you're not using it! And its effectiveness is why it's so basic. So you throw the jab-cross, and then a rear roundhouse. You'll be kicking his leg instead of him kicking yours.”

Gregor rose back to his full arresting height. “You know a lot about this stuff.”

“I follow the sport. And I've trained a little.” What an understatement. “I love it.”

“I figured you were here for Simon, what with the way you two chatted each other up so cozy and all.”

“I am here for him.”

“But you want to help me to kick his ass?”

She snorted. “Ain't gonna happen, Gregor, at least not today, so forget it. The only way you'll take Sublime is by a freak accident. But the best way for him to improve is to have a fighter challenging him. Right now, you're not doing that.”

Gregor pulled in his chin and glared at her. “You're a strange broad, you know that?”

Dakota grinned. “Yeah, I know. Now go get him!”

Shaking his head, Gregor went back to the center of the mat. Simon immediately joined him.

“What the hell was that all about?” Dakota heard Simon ask.

“She gave me a few tips for kicking your ass.”

Simon looked deliberately blank over that. “You're joking.”

“Nope.” Gregor took a stance. “Let's see if your little lady friend knows shit from shinola.”

Simon glanced at her, Dakota saluted him, and without changing expressions, he faced off with Gregor.

Less than a minute into the practice, Simon kicked out but Gregor blocked him, and then quickly threw his punches. Simon managed to dodge the blows, but not Gregor's reciprocal kick. Simon winced at the impact to the outside of his thigh on his left leg.

It happened again.

And again.

So Simon changed tactics. When Gregor went to kick, Simon shot in on him. With incredible speed, he switched to a double leg and the big man went down with the resounding thunder of muscles landing hard on the mat. Gregor made the huge mistake of leaving one of his thick arms vulnerable, and within seconds, Simon forced him to tap out from an excruciating arm bar.

Huh. While digging in her satchel for a stash of peanut M&Ms, Dakota shook her head in disgust. Gregor needed a lot more finesse to take someone like Simon. His strength and size might carry him through the ranks of men with less technical ability, and as she'd told him, he might occasionally get lucky with a shot. But he needed fine-tuning, and then some.

After popping a handful of M&Ms into her mouth, Dakota looked up at the mat. Simon stood leaning on the ropes, watching her.

He looked sinful and sexy, and as macho as one man could look.

“Sorry, but I can't offer you any candy. I'm sure it's a no-no while you're training.”

Simon continued with his burning stare. “What did you tell Gregor?”

With an insulting lack of haste, Dakota left her chair and approached the ring. “You want the truth?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed down more of her candy. “I don't suppose you have a cola machine around here anywhere.”

“No.”

“I didn't think so.” She eyed his water bottle, but plain old water wouldn't do much to revive her. She needed the kick of caffeine. “Coffee?”

“At a diner two doors down, across the street.”

Uh-oh. Simon wasn't exactly in a talkative mood now. “Right. Thanks.” Admiring his tight abs and bulging biceps, she gave him the once-over before meeting his dark-eyed and somehow challenging gaze. “The thing is, you announce your kicks.”

“The hell I do.”

She shrugged. He could believe her or not. Didn't really matter to her. “I told Gregor what to watch for, and how to counter it. It helped him, just not enough, obviously.”

His voice going a little grittier, Simon said, “I don't announce shit.”

“I'll show you. But just real fast, because I do need that caffeine. I can feel myself fading, and a little chocolate isn't going to cut it.” After tossing back the last of her M&Ms, Dakota grabbed the ropes, put one foot up on the mat, and hoisted herself onto the perimeter of the ring. She lifted a rope and ducked under.

Bending to unlace her boots, she said, “It's not a super-noticeable thing, but I've watched all your fights at least a half dozen times, so I saw it right off. Havoc would have seen it, too, but he had his attention on Gregor instead of on you.”

She straightened, dropped her clunky lace-up boots into the corner, and meandered to the middle of the mat. When she turned back, Simon still stood there near the ropes.

“Well, c'mon. We gonna do this or not?”

He tried to look impassive, Dakota would give him that. But sheer disbelief showed in his eyes. He didn't move.

Dakota rolled her eyes. “Don't worry. You won't hurt me.” And then, just to be devilish, she added, “And I won't hurt you. I promise.”

That unglued his feet, but the second he moved, both Gregor and Dean started roaring with hilarity and anticipation. Their laughter abruptly died when Simon reached her, bent one knee, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her back to the ropes.

Dakota did nothing. What would be the point? With the others watching, she didn't feel threatened. And his hold wasn't so much restrictive as functional.

But the feel of his big hands on her, one on her calves and one seriously close to her behind, set her heart to thumping. She breathed in his raw, hot scent. Where she braced her hands on the middle of his back, he was sweaty and so solid that his flesh didn't give way at all.

The man had serious sex appeal.

“Down you go,” Simon said, and he slid her off his shoulder, over the side of the ring, and all the way down to the floor.

Dakota stared up at him. It took her a second to find her voice, and then all she said was, “Chicken.”

“Yeah, you scare me all right. And that's a real shame.” He smiled and turned away, already busy talking to Gregor and Dean.

Dakota chewed over what he said, but only because he sounded so serious, as if his words had double meaning. Did she alarm him? Did he maybe have deranged groupies who threw themselves at him? Stalker women who wouldn't let him be? Or did he just consider her nuts, and therefore dangerous?

And why was it a shame? Had he thought to ask her out? Maybe ask her over? For sex?

The jerk.

Determined to prove him misguided on all counts, Dakota bolted right back into the ring. When Dean looked her way in amazement, Simon jerked around to face her, too.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

She held up her hands. “Don't jump the gun.”

Dean laughed. “Is she for real, Simon?”

“Hell if I know.”

Dakota suffered through their arrogance with impatience. “Look, I don't want to spar with you. I just want to show you what I'm talking about.”

Dean propped his hands on his hips. “Lady, not to be rude, but anything Simon needs to know, he can hear from me.”

Gregor rubbed at his ear, saying nothing.

“Well, you haven't told him, now, have you? You're too busy watching Gregor so you can teach him, but Simon plans to reenter the ring, and
mister
, not to be rude to you, but you're not giving him the feedback he needs.”

All three males blinked over her audacity at chastising the well-known and sometimes revered Havoc.

Oh, for the love of…“If you guys could just tuck away the testosterone for a minute, you might find that I actually know what I'm talking about. I trained in Muay Thai for three years, and I've studied grappling and kickboxing. I'm not saying I'm a competitor, because I know what it takes to compete.”

Dryly, Simon said to Dean, “She's not a competitor.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

Obnoxious asses. Dakota glared at them. “What I'm saying is that I know enough to recognize the difference between a little knowledge and enough experience and talent to get in the ring. You have to admit that's more than some of the guys who try to compete.”

There'd been several instances where a hard-ass bozo stupidly wanted to compete in the ring, but a barroom brawler never stood a chance.

“And that's exactly why Simon should hear me out, because I don't have any delusions, just good practical advice.”

Again, Simon strode toward her. “Tell you what? Why don't you hightail it out of here now and let us get back to work, and we'll just forget all about this.”

“I had no idea that SBC fighters had such pigheaded arrogance.”

Simon reached for her arm—and Dakota reacted on instinct. Well…instinct and short temper; after all, he had insulted her with his macho baloney.

Moving fast, she knocked his arm aside and in Muay Thai fashion, kicked out—stopping just sort of hitting Simon in the temple.

Simon stiffened in shock.

Dean and Gregor gaped at her.

Standing there like that, balanced on one leg with the other extended straight in the air, her foot inches from Simon's head, Dakota said, “Be glad I can control myself. Otherwise, that kick would have knocked you out.”

His eyes narrowed.

Smiling, Dakota tapped her toes against his temple so he'd know the exact spot she'd pinpointed, and then she dropped her leg and turned her back on him in one smooth motion.

Unwilling to press her luck, Dakota snatched her shoes from the corner and left the ring in a barely veiled hurry. Once on the ground again, she turned back to Simon. “Same bat time, same bat station?”

Frustration, confusion, and antagonism all flashed in his gaze.
“What?”

Dakota fought back her grin. “I take it you're not a Batman fan?”

The antagonism took over. “No.”

“Figures.” She sat to pull on her boots. “I was asking if you'd be here tomorrow at the same time.”

“Why?”

Simon's responses had fallen into one-word clipped replies. Dakota wondered if that had any significance for anything. She didn't know him well enough to decide.

Lacing up her boots took a minute and gave her a good excuse not to look at him. “I still need to talk to you, that's why.”

“You want to talk, then talk. I'm listening.”

“No way. This isn't a good time.”