Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three (46 page)

Without the help of her cane, her balance was challenged, so Sam took her time, trying to turn off her thoughts and her feelings as she relinquished herself over to the relief of habit, as if she were driving home at the end of a particularly awful day, only to look up and wonder how she’d made it home.

Time passed. In that moment, there was nothing but the movement and the sound of her breathing, the soft whoosh of the swords swiping and cutting through air. She distanced herself from everything as she worked to lose herself in the rhythm. But she couldn’t quite relinquish the gnawing hurt, the painful resentment, or the heat of her anger.

They were your choices, Samantha—your proclivities.
Morrissey’s voice echoed in her mind.
I just took what was already there and fashioned it.

Sam swung her arm, slicing down the imaginary torso in front of her, cutting it clean in half.

Would her life have been any different? Was she always destined to do what she’d done? Would she have made the same decisions, given the chance to do it all over again?

She stabbed hard, jerking the blade up, then down, eviscerating the memory, disemboweling the intentions.

Morrissey’s words returned unbidden:
You are your father’s daughter, Samantha—only smarter, crueler, and infinitely more complicated.

She spun, one sword high in the air, coming down swiftly as she imagined cutting the head off the monster.
But was she that monster?

“You’d feel a shitload better if you let go and lost your temper on somebody who could fight back, Wyatt,” Alejo drawled from behind her.

She stopped as he kicked off his flip-flops and bowed before stepping onto the mat. He wore workout pants and a black t-shirt, like he’d come here planning to take her on.

“I don’t lose control,” she answered tightly. “Losing control leads to mistakes, and I can’t afford any of those right now.”

“Then you must have amnesia, because you’ve lost your shit on me plenty of times,” Alejo countered, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

“That was college, when we were still kids.” She shook her head, lowering her swords. “I don’t have that luxury anymore.”

His mouth curled as he rounded her on the mat, circling slowly. “Well, consider yourself lucky tonight, because I’m about to give you the luxury.”

Alejandro lunged at her fast, like a predator, and Sam stepped back, blocking his attempt with the short sword, more out of habit than heat. But he took advantage of her momentary surprise, to parry the block, locking onto her wrist and jerking her forward. They stared at each other, breathing hard. She read his intent a split second before he made the move, intending to tug her down to the ground. Just before she lost her balance, Sam swung her second sword down hard and fast, the wood snapping into the thick muscles connecting his shoulder and his neck. He grunted, releasing her to roll sideways, eyes narrowing.

“Not bad, for a cripple,” he told her, coming up again in a low crouch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Her heart was jack-hammering in her chest. “I could have really hurt you, you dumb fuck!”

“Dare you to try,” he taunted, widening his stance as he moved around her again.

“You should wear padding if we do this,” she warned, her swords up.

“Why?” he smirked. “You hit like a girl, Wyatt.”

That
did it.

Sam advanced on him faster than she should have, fueled by temper and adrenaline, her long sword swinging down hard from top right to bottom left. Alejandro stepped sideways, his hand slipping in to grip the hilt of the
bokken
and direct the wooden blade downward. Sam used her free hand to whack him hard and fast in the head with the shorter sword, making him wince as he sucked a hissing breath.

“That’ll leave a mark,” she sneered. “You’re damn right I hit like a girl,
jackass
.”

Alejandro released his grip and she shifted away, limping back. Her back was on fire from the strain of movement, but she wasn’t backing down. Not now.

“That the best you got?” Alejandro razzed as he rounded on her again.

“Come a little closer and find out.” Her eyes narrowed.

Alejandro advanced fast. But he surprised her by dropping low and sweeping her feet out from under her. She wasn’t swift enough to prevent the fall, so she rolled into it, taking the worst of it on her side, though the jarring drop smarted like a bitch. Sam sensed him coming before she saw him, and she swung her long sword up and out, nailing him in the knee.

“
Owww!
” he howled. “Fuck
this shit
—give me that!” he grabbed the wooden sword before she could draw it back and tossed it off the mat, out of reach.

Sam paid him back by jabbing him hard in the ribs. He caught the wooden blade of her sword, and they tussled over it for a moment until he managed to drag it from her. There was no way she could stand or get away without getting stabbed by her own
shoto
, so she launched herself at him, hooking her arm around his injured knee and pulling him down with the momentum. Sam managed to throw his balance with the element of surprise and reach for the sword. Alejo took the hit on his shoulder, then elbowed her swiftly in the face, knocking her head to the side, sharp pain reverberating through her skull and pissing her off more.

Sam retaliated by punching him hard with the hilt of the
shoto
before digging it up under his ribs. Alejandro dropped backwards with a grunt, and Sam crawled over him, breathing hard. Her knees bracketed his waist as she let loose, driven hard by anger and adrenaline, punching his face once, twice, three times before he managed to curl up like a lobster and block the hits with his forearms. He snaked a palm around the back of her neck and dragged her down to his chest, making the already frayed nerve endings in her back sing in agony. Alejo hooked a leg around her foot and flipped them both over, pinning her arms down to the mat.

“Feel better yet?” he panted, his cheeks and nose already swelling from her hits.

Sam couldn’t combat his upper body strength, not on her best day and definitely not injured, so she tucked her legs in and wedged her feet into the ridges of his hips, shoving him back with a mighty heave just as her palm came up in a strike to his mouth, making his head snap back as he grunted.

Alejo flew backward but recovered quickly, crabbing toward her as she rolled away, desperately trying to regain her footing. That was the goddam annoyingly impressive thing about Delta boys. They had stamina like a motherfucker. Sam realized he was taking it easy on her, because she’d fought with him before, and she knew what he was capable of. But she also understood he was trying to wear her out and run her down until the noise and the agita inside her abated. He never treated her with kid gloves. She was angry and he was letting her take it out on him. Hell, from the looks of it, Alejandro was enjoying himself.

They circled each other like two snapping alphas, him bleeding from his lip where she’d nailed him, and her weaving a little from the pain and exertion. Her lungs were already on fire, and her heart was pounding like it wanted to fly out of her chest. But she felt
alive
. This kind of anger she could deal with.
This
was the kind of hurt she could manage.

“The first time I saw you, I saw nothing but an infuriating, entitled, eighteen-year-old know-nothing bitch,” Alejandro told her, his eyes narrowing as he rounded her on the mat like a jackal.

“And I saw a smug, conceited asshole with a chip on his shoulder like we all owed you something,” she answered, pivoting on the mat to match his movements. “You’re the same asshole you always were, de Soto—just older and slower.”

He took the bait, lunging in. He got a grip on the back of her neck and tried to pick up her leg so he could body slam her into the ground. Sam countered the move with a swift uppercut to the chin that had him releasing his grip. He fell back, wagging his jaw to test it.

“Shame I didn’t break it,” she muttered.

“You’re a stone-cold bitch, Wyatt,” he told her, though his voice was admiring.

Her eyes narrowed. “You wanted to take me on, de Soto. Now fucking come and get it.”

Alejandro lunged in with a sweeping backhand that she barely had time to duck. His heavy hand glanced her face as she reacted. Her next move was going to hurt, but she’d make it worth it. Sam dropped one hand to the ground and used the leverage to scissor one leg across his stomach, knocking him backward as her other leg hooked behind his knees in a claw hold that snapped him down to the ground like a manacle. The pain was sharp and excruciating as they both hit the mat, grunting. Sweat bloomed on her skin from the agony of her exertion. She tried to sit up, but that takedown had cost her. The muscles in her back seized up in a debilitating cramp, and Sam groaned helplessly, loosening her pin as she tried to breathe through the worst of it.

Alejo immediately scrambled up. “How bad did you hurt yourself?” he asked, shockingly gentle as his fingertips pressed against her frozen muscles of her back.

“Cramp—it’s just a cramp—” she panted out, trying to roll away.

“Stop fighting me, Wyatt,” he snapped, shoving her over onto her stomach on the mat. He felt her back muscles with blunt fingertips, unerringly pinpointing the pressure points in her lumbar that helped the frozen fascia release. Alejandro worked methodically as Samantha breathed hard, fist clenching and unclenching against the mat. Tears of frustration mixed with confused gasps of relief. Goddammit, she was
not
crying again. She didn’t give a shit how much it hurt. She wasn’t doing it—not in front of him.
No. Just
NO.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut, relieved when she felt his ministrations working, the pain in her muscles slowly ebbing back, replaced by the dull throb she’d almost become accustomed to. Alejandro continued to work, moving now to the muscles surrounding her lumbar, gently forcing everything to unclench, his movements patient and steady like a physical therapist.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he chided, confusing her already overloaded mind.

“Finish what?” Sam closed her eyes. “Kicking my ass?”

“You were doing pretty good, considering how badly you’ve been injured.”

She grunted. “Don’t be nice to me just because you feel bad for me.”

“When have I ever felt sorry for you, Wyatt?” Alejandro asked, black brow raised. “And when have I ever been nice to you?”

He had a fair point there. If she could count on anybody not to cut her any breaks, it was him. Though she’d never ever admit to him, she was grateful for it. Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror lining the dojo. She looked pale, her eyes hollow. Her hair had come out of its braid while they were sparring. She closed her eyes against the image of her lying prone and broken against the mat.

“Why are you so damn unrelenting?” Alejandro asked her bluntly. “After everything you’ve done—after all the things you’ve accomplished—I don’t understand why you’re so fucking hard on yourself. It’s exhausting to watch.”

Because I’m punishing myself.

She remained silent.

He stopped kneading and sat back on his haunches. “You don’t get to wallow. You don’t get to give in to whatever is eating you up inside. If I have to pull you out of this by your hair, I will. Because I’m not putting up with it. So get your shit together, Wyatt.”

“Stop acting like you have any idea what’s going on in my head,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

His hand smacked the mat beside her face, making her eyes snap open.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to hate yourself?” His dark eyes blazed with anger. “I was supposed to protect my family—
me
. But I couldn’t protect my father when he got shot, because I was just a kid then. I couldn’t protect Rox even though I’m her big brother, because I was too busy defending my country!” he shouted. “I couldn’t protect Rita in Tikrit, because I was on a black ops mission halfway around the world!
You really think I don’t know how you feel?!
”

Sam closed her eyes, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Do you know how many suicide missions I took after that?
Do you
?” Alejandro snatched her up by her shoulders, shaking her. “Can you imagine how fucking angry I was after I survived
each and every one?!”

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily, the air charged with shame and anger.

“How could I live when I couldn’t even protect what was mine? I am a fucking amazing soldier—and I couldn’t even save my own family,” he ground out bitterly, his voice heavy with the guilt she recognized so well.

Sam swallowed, her throat working. For all their rivalry, mutual dislike, and incessant bickering, she saw how similar they were in the most painful of ways.

“I know what’s in your head, Wyatt—I’ve
been
there. And I’m telling you—
you have to stop
,” he told her, staring at her. “You can’t keep thrashing yourself for the past. It doesn’t change it.”

“How did you—” her voice broke. “How do you stop?”

His grip on her shoulders loosened. Alejandro looked up at the ceiling and when his eyes came back down to meet hers, she could have sworn she could see right into the heart of him.

“You gave me back Roxy,” he told her simply. “She needed me to be her
mano
again, and I needed her, too.”

Oh, God, she’d been so fucked up
. So lost in her own need for revenge and some twisted version of justice, she’d pushed away nearly everyone who loved her. The pressure behind her eyes made her head throb. He let go of her, and Sam swayed as a profound weariness set in, filling the singed spaces inside, now that her anger had burned itself out. Everything hurt, but she was too tired to care. She could sleep on this mat all night if she had to. She curled in on herself, prepared to do just that. Let sleep and suffering take her.

“You’re just messed up right now, Wyatt,” Alejandro told her in a low voice, mouth grim. “We all get there. But that’s when you have to just let the people who need you take care of you a while.”

“Leave me,” she
whispered.