Morganne L. MacDonald

"Have a crack at Bob." Shay said looking at the clock on the wall. "You've got a few minutes before Sensei takes the floor. Sometimes it helps to beat the crap out of someone who can't fight back."
"Good plan. Will you pull him out for me?"
"With pleasure. Better Bob the brainless manikin than me."
Reed smiled. As soon as Shay stopped asking her out, they'd become good friends. There wasn't much she wouldn't talk to him about, with the small exception of last night. Not even Shay, who made love-em-and-leave-em a fine art, would understand.
"You're a good guy Shannon O'Shay. Your mother would be proud of her fine little Irish-man." Reed tried for the lilt Mrs. O'Shay's son was famous for when he poured on the charm, but she couldn't come close.
Shay grinned at her as he struggled to move Bob, the water filled torso only manikin students use as a target, away from the dojo wall. When Bob was hit he had a tendency to bounce back, and Sensei didn't like it when the dojo walls were damaged.
Shay struggled with Bob, the brainless who was taller and heavier than Shay, until he got it far enough away from the mirrored walls that Reed couldn't hurt anything when she whacked the hell out of him.
Shay patted Bob's rubbery, but surprisingly life-like cheek and said, "Go easy on him, Red. Poor guy can't hit back. And watch who you're calling ‘little' or you'll be the one dusting off your skinny derriere in that child's sized gi." He narrowed his eyes at her giving Reed his best Drill Sargent voice.
"Now get to work."
"Yes sir." Reed snapped off a salute and smacked Bob in the middle of his armless torso, hitting his lifeless solar plexus so hard the recoil smacked her hand when she didn't retrieve it fast enough.
It was a good start.
She followed with a series of strikes to Bob's temples, both sides of his neck and collar bones. Had Bob been alive, he'd be singing with the angels by now, or at least on a respirator waiting for that bright light to take him away.
Reed didn't bother with her feet. Bob ended just below the belly button and Reed preferred to kick lower than that. Instead of using her feet she threw another series of strikes with her hands, wrists and elbows until she was so winded Bob barely recoiled any longer. Then, just for fun, she threw a spinning crescent kick to Bob's temple. It was a stretch for her, but the satisfying smack it made had Reed smiling.
The sleigh bells on the front door rang with people coming in for class. The sound registered in Reed's brain, but she ignored it. No one bothered anyone else when they were working on Bob. It was one of many unwritten dojo rules of etiquette.
With what was left of her adrenalin Reed threw a punishing upper-cut elbow combination to Bob's jaw, bouncing him back with a thump that rocked the dojo floor. Since Bob weighed twice what Reed did plus twenty pounds, she was pleased with herself. She could almost put last night out of her mind. But, almost didn't cut it with hand-grenades, horse shoes or soul touching men who swept a woman off her feet and landed her in the middle of Sin City.
"Wouldn't you rather have your hands all over me?"
Reed spun around, still panting with exertion, and there he stood, in the octagon shaped entrance framed by afternoon sunlight, like some dark haired Norse god preparing to pillage and plunder.
Reed stood winded and spent, sweat stinging her eyes as it ran freely from every pore, watching him as his eyes lit with something like possession. He wasn't even trying to hide his intention as his gaze ran the length of her before settling on her face. How dare he show up here looking like ten tons of trouble and good enough to eat?
This was her sacred place, her refuge from the world. Who the hell did he think he was invading the inner most recesses of her universe? This was a place of serious training, a space she shared with her dojo-mates. It wasn't a place for wannabe-viking-marauders bent on destruction. As of yesterday, he wasn't a member of the dojo, and as for the mate part, well, she preferred not to dwell on that.
He took a step forward, out of the light, and Reed could see him more clearly. She took her time assessing every detail. He must have found time for a nap because he didn't look anywhere near as tired as she felt.
Bastard.
He wore his hair loose again and it gleamed with red flashes in the setting sun. Stubble dotted his chin and lower jaw giving him a piratical appearance that did nothing to detract from his physical beauty. His tight t-shirt showed the definition of his muscular shoulders and chest that she knew from experience was remarkably hairless. Not so with his lower abdomen, where a line of dark silky hair ran into a closely cropped patch of hair that led to...
Shay leaned over and hissed in her ear, "Stop staring at that guy's crotch. It's embarrassing. Want me to take him out for you?"
Reed's eyes shot to Jordon's. He wasn't smiling, then again neither was she. His jaw was tense and his left hand was clenched at his side. His right held a duffle bag that was well worn and bulging with gear, just like his jeans. If Reed didn't know any better she'd think he was just a regular guy on his way to work-out.
Yeah, right.