Where Loyalties Lie

3

There was a sliver of a chance I was entirely wrong and merely projecting my own complicated past onto him, but I didn’t think that was the case. Something complex about him lurked beneath the surface, and that something could be summed up in one word. Danger. The precise thing I’d told myself I would stay away from. I tried to remind myself of that each time I went to class, but it was hard for me to think when I looked at him. It was as if my brain short-circuited from an overload of hormones. I did my best to work around it when I was in class, but it was always there. My awareness of him. His ability to distract me. He was an excellent teacher, but he also made learning ten times harder than it would have been if someone else had been issuing instruction. Someone like Creepy Carl, my building mailman, who bypassed my box and brought mail to my door out of the kindness of his perverted heart. I’d have had no problem unleashing my anger on him in the gym. Instead, I soaked up everything I could about the enigma of a man, trying to put his pieces together and solve the puzzle. He had an unfamiliar accent that almost sounded French, but I wasn’t sure that was accurate. I felt like knowing where he was from might give me some insight into why he was the way he was, but I’d never allowed myself to ask him directly about his origins. He had rich copper skin with dark hair that could have come from just about anywhere. His coloring reminded me of the men back home. So did his intensity. But a worldliness and sophistication separated him from the men I’d known. Maybe it was the accent, or maybe our age difference—I guessed he was a good ten years older than me—but something distinguished him as being different from anyone I’d known before. He was shrouded in mystery and had the ability to pulverize anyone who crossed him. It was a seriously intoxicating combination. Intoxicating and dangerous. As if on cue, his eyes sliced in my direction, colliding with my own greedy stare. The ghost of a smile played over his mouth as if he knew I’d been watching him. What had I been thinking by openly gawking at him? He was far too aware of his surroundings not to notice my stalker behavior. I cursed my normally well-honed self-control and lined up with the other students. As usual, my stomach churned with anticipation. Would Tamir work with me directly? Would I be able to execute the proper movements or just end up making an ass of myself? It took all my concentration to ignore the melodic lilt of his words and focus on his instruction. It could have rained down monkeys outside the large plate-glass windows, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Each of my senses were totally fixated on Tamir, and my brain was tasked with the impossible mission of ignoring that feedback and learning the day’s Krav Maga lesson. It was a monumental challenge, but one I was slowly growing accustomed to surmounting. Once we’d gone through our warmup and a series of drills with pads, we started the practice portion of class where we paired off and simulated specific attack defenses. First on the list was the hair-pull defense. When an attacker grabbed our hair, we were supposed to reach behind us and grab their wrist, then turn to punch them and kick them in the groin to escape. We took turns practicing the technique, both a rear hair grab and a front hair grab, then we moved on to a gun take-away drill. That one was far more unsettling. We had fake guns that we used, but they were heavy like a real gun. The red tip, signifying the gun was fake, did little to ease the tension in my shoulders when the barrel was pressed against my forehead. I was paired up with a small redhead, which helped keep my fear from taking over, but my heart still began to pound in my chest, fighting its way up my throat. I ran through the motions of yanking down on her wrist with one hand and lifting the gun up with the other. Adrenaline seeped into my bloodstream, giving my hands a slight tremor and making my movements more erratic than I would have liked. Tamir watched as we practiced, weaving his way through the small group and pointing out corrections. When he arrived at me and my partner, the gun was back against my forehead. I tried to ignore him, but it was an exercise in futility. His steely gaze was a vise around my rib cage, denying my lungs much-needed air. I surged through the motions, wanting to get the demonstration over with so badly that I nearly hit my partner in the face with the enthusiasm of my feigned strikes. Despite successfully disarming my partner, I was embarrassed with my performance and upset at my lack of control. “That’s not bad,” Tamir said. His unexpected compliment actually sounded genuine, despite my own self-doubts. The nugget of approval sent a flush rippling beneath my skin. “This time, try not to telegraph what you plan to do. You’re leaning into your action prior to striking, and the motion gives away your intent. Here, try again.” He took the gun from me and did something I hadn’t expected. He pressed the cool metal against my forehead, interjecting himself into the drill. Everything about the situation felt different when I looked into his eyes across from me rather than the soft green gaze of the redhead. My pulse pounded throughout my body like a determined fist against a wall, trying to break its way outside the barrier of my body. Tamir’s stare was a black void, slicing into me without a trace of humor. I lost all sense of the drill and tumbled back into my memories. Tamir’s eyes were easily replaced with the soulless glare of a man I never wanted to think about again. A feverish chill lanced through my spine, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up. Before I could drown in the panic, I banished the image with sheer force of will and flooded my muscles with cool, determined purpose. Ignoring the growing weakness in my knees and my heart’s steadfast attempt to pound its way out of my chest, I launched into my attack and disarmed Tamir. The clarity provided by a river of adrenaline racing through my veins enabled me to execute the move perfectly. I had no delusions that Tamir wouldn’t beat me in a fight, but in that one single instance, I would have bested him whether it had been a drill or not. “Very good.” His fathomless gaze held mine as the world around me returned into focus. I got the feeling he was studying me, but I wasn’t sure what had triggered his sudden scrutiny. Eventually, he held out his palm and turned to my partner. “Your turn.” I gave him the gun, my skin sparking where my fingers brushed his. His hard gaze flashed back to me for a heated second before he ran through the drill with my partner, giving me a chance to calm my racing heart. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Training with Tamir made me nervous, but normally, I handled the pressure without losing myself in a panic attack. He was my instructor; he was there to help me, not hurt me. Except I saw something ruthless lurking in his eyes, giving me the sense I was truly fighting for my life and dredging up memories I preferred to keep deeply buried.