Free Emma Chase by Jen Khan Page A

those goddamn things, they can act as a weapon.”
    “No shit,” Braden and Juice mumble in unison.
    Once again, we break off and practice on our partners.   I stomp on Braden’s foot so hard that he yelps. I apologize but do it again for good measure.  I am really starting to like this.
    “Ummm , Tristan?”
    “Em , darlin’, just fucking run.”
    “OOOKAAY!”
    “Now,” Tristan goes on, holding Holly in a bear hug from behind, a position she appears to be enjoying a little too much, “I want you to remember this combo if you are ever attacked from behind.  Solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin.”  He lightly runs his nose up her neck. “Damn you smell good, cupcake.”
    “Bro!” Braden holler s.  “Come on, man.  Can we finish here first and then y’all can get a room?”
    I giggle, which is followed by Olivia, which sets off Holly, who makes Tristan laugh, who makes Juice yell, “Woot!” which makes Braden sigh.
    “I can’t help it if my partner happens to be sexy as all hell,” Tristan responds, and his face gets all serious.
    Holly’s body still s. 
    Tristan let s go and smacks her ass before winking at her.  “Come here, Juice.  I need to demonstrate this next one on a man.” Juice makes his way over to Tristan. “If you're grabbed around the waist, stomp hard on his instep and follow it with a kick to the groin by bringing your foot up behind you between his legs so your heel makes contact with his dick.”
    Juice jump s back.  “Whoa, dude!  What the fuck?  I didn’t sign up for that shit.”
    “Relax , Juice.  I’m just demonstrating.  No contact, you pussy.”
    “I’m no pussy . I eat pussy. I play with pussy.”  Juice says, enlightening us all.
    Tristan shakes his head and continues.  “You pry his hands off of you by forcefully pulling back his fingers and finish the fucker off with an elbow to the face.” Tristan looked at me.  “Got that?  Now that’s when you get to be a badass chick.”
    Hell yeah!   I bounce up and down.  “Let’s practice, Braden.”  I am smiling so big my face hurts.
    As soon as we get to the groin part, Braden steps back and says, “Remember, this is just practice.  I do want to have children someday.”
    I giggle and nod that I understand.
    We go on like this for another hour, learning how to smack a dude in the chin with the heel of our palm, how to gouge a dude’s eye out, how to properly head-butt a dude, and how to execute the grab, twist, and pull technique.  That is definitely my favorite part of the class, and Braden can tell by the gleam in my eye.  But he won’t let me practice that one on him.
    We learn how to get out of front and rear chokehold s, and I won’t lie—those freak me out a little. So bad so that when Braden clutches me by the back of the neck, I not only successfully get him to the ground, but I lose my ever-loving mind.
    I scream and kick him in the ribs while he is down.  Juice puts a hand on my shoulder and I lurch around, punch him square in the jaw, and repeatedly wail on him.  It’s like an out-of-body experience.  I am feeling myself do this, but I am not in control of my actions. 
    Before I know it, I am being lifted off my feet from behind by an arm around my middle.  I violently thrash my arms and legs around, kicking and hitting as much as I possibly can.  I scratch and scream, and I hear his voice.  His soft, soothing, sweet voice.
    There are two female gasps of air and two males say, “Holy shit!”
    “Em , stop!”
    I still in Braden’s arms, l ay my head back on his shoulder, and burst into a round of ugly tears.  My entire body is shaking.  I can’t stop shaking and crying.
    Once Braden puts me on my feet, holding me up with his arm around my waist, he takes my weight and we both sit on the mat.  I bring my knees to my chin, curling my arms around them, my forehead to my knees just like a child.  Braden sits behind me with his arms protectively around me, holding me