—
“What are you doing in here?” Jarrett demanded.
Ava jumped. Her heart lunged in her chest.
Before she could reply, he gestured to the door, “Can’t you read?”
“Not Italian.”
He tapped the words with his index finger. “ Vietato L’ingresso. No admittance.”
Ignoring her heart’s antics, she shrugged. “If you really wanted to keep people out, you should lock the door.”
He motioned her from the room, then shut the door when she joined him in the hallway. “We need to be able to get in there quickly.”
“Why? What’re all those weapons for?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Sandro decides who is ready or not.”
She wanted to protest, but he changed the subject.
“I’m done with my class and you still have time before training. How about that self-defense lesson?”
Ava considered the incident last night. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so protective if she agreed. Odd. The thought of walking to the bus alone didn’t produce the relief she expected.
“Okay, but you have to answer one question.”
Wariness touched his eyes. “What’s the question?”
She had a million to ask, but knew he’d probably dodge most of them. Ava pointed to the left side of his neck. “What do your tattoos mean?”
He relaxed. “It’s Okinawan for hawk. Isshinryu is an Okinawan marital art.” Jarett guided her through the door and into his office. Framed pictures decorated the walls. He pointed to a photo of a red-tailed hawk. “Hawks are a symbol of victory. My sensei tattooed the characters onto his neck when he earned his black belt, starting a tradition.”
“Your sensei?”
“Okinawan for teacher.” He huffed in amusement. “Hang around here long enough and you’ll learn Okinawan and Italian.” He stopped before the mats and gestured to her feet. “No shoes.”
She kicked off her street shoes and stepped onto the thin black foam. The mats interlocked like a jigsaw puzzle. Next to the main entrance, the window spanned the whole front of the dojo.
Jarett faced Ava and grabbed her wrist. His thumb overlapped his fingers. “Holy chicken wings, Batman. Don’t you eat?”
She tried to jerk her arm free, but he held on.
“When we work on self-defense techniques, I’m not going to let you go unless you force me. Now, to break my grip, pull through my thumb. It’s the weakest part of the hold.” Jarett demonstrated.
Ava tried again and managed to free herself. They practiced a variety of wrist and arm holds for a while.
“You’re stronger than you look,” he said. “And quick to learn. Some of my students just don’t get it.”
He taught her how to break a bear hold and other body locks. Ava liked being held by him. He smelled of Polo Sport. When she managed to roll him off of her, she paused as a brief surge of pride followed an “ah ha” moment.
Jarett met her gaze and beamed. “If you know what to do, you can escape from anyone, no matter how big.”
“What if they have a knife or a gun?”
“That’s a whole other lesson. I’ll show you next week.”
The prospect thrilled her. When it was time for her fencing lesson, she cut through Jarett’s office and noticed a framed photo propped on his desk. In the picture, Jarett stood next to an older Asian man. Both wore karate uniforms with black belts. Both had matching tattoos and the same shaped face.
“Is that your sensei or your father?” she asked.
Jarett plopped into his chair. “He was both.” Sadness tainted his voice.
She frowned and tried to think of something appropriate to say.
“Looking for the perfect Hallmark words of comfort?” He gave her a wry grin. “They don’t exist in this case. My father was murdered.”
She thought she felt bad before. “That’s horrible. Did the police arrest anyone?”
Jarett’s expression hardened. “The killer was taken care of. We made sure of that.”
A thousand questions lodged in her throat. Afraid of the answers, she swallowed them and retreated to the
“What are you doing in here?” Jarrett demanded.
Ava jumped. Her heart lunged in her chest.
Before she could reply, he gestured to the door, “Can’t you read?”
“Not Italian.”
He tapped the words with his index finger. “ Vietato L’ingresso. No admittance.”
Ignoring her heart’s antics, she shrugged. “If you really wanted to keep people out, you should lock the door.”
He motioned her from the room, then shut the door when she joined him in the hallway. “We need to be able to get in there quickly.”
“Why? What’re all those weapons for?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Sandro decides who is ready or not.”
She wanted to protest, but he changed the subject.
“I’m done with my class and you still have time before training. How about that self-defense lesson?”
Ava considered the incident last night. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so protective if she agreed. Odd. The thought of walking to the bus alone didn’t produce the relief she expected.
“Okay, but you have to answer one question.”
Wariness touched his eyes. “What’s the question?”
She had a million to ask, but knew he’d probably dodge most of them. Ava pointed to the left side of his neck. “What do your tattoos mean?”
He relaxed. “It’s Okinawan for hawk. Isshinryu is an Okinawan marital art.” Jarett guided her through the door and into his office. Framed pictures decorated the walls. He pointed to a photo of a red-tailed hawk. “Hawks are a symbol of victory. My sensei tattooed the characters onto his neck when he earned his black belt, starting a tradition.”
“Your sensei?”
“Okinawan for teacher.” He huffed in amusement. “Hang around here long enough and you’ll learn Okinawan and Italian.” He stopped before the mats and gestured to her feet. “No shoes.”
She kicked off her street shoes and stepped onto the thin black foam. The mats interlocked like a jigsaw puzzle. Next to the main entrance, the window spanned the whole front of the dojo.
Jarett faced Ava and grabbed her wrist. His thumb overlapped his fingers. “Holy chicken wings, Batman. Don’t you eat?”
She tried to jerk her arm free, but he held on.
“When we work on self-defense techniques, I’m not going to let you go unless you force me. Now, to break my grip, pull through my thumb. It’s the weakest part of the hold.” Jarett demonstrated.
Ava tried again and managed to free herself. They practiced a variety of wrist and arm holds for a while.
“You’re stronger than you look,” he said. “And quick to learn. Some of my students just don’t get it.”
He taught her how to break a bear hold and other body locks. Ava liked being held by him. He smelled of Polo Sport. When she managed to roll him off of her, she paused as a brief surge of pride followed an “ah ha” moment.
Jarett met her gaze and beamed. “If you know what to do, you can escape from anyone, no matter how big.”
“What if they have a knife or a gun?”
“That’s a whole other lesson. I’ll show you next week.”
The prospect thrilled her. When it was time for her fencing lesson, she cut through Jarett’s office and noticed a framed photo propped on his desk. In the picture, Jarett stood next to an older Asian man. Both wore karate uniforms with black belts. Both had matching tattoos and the same shaped face.
“Is that your sensei or your father?” she asked.
Jarett plopped into his chair. “He was both.” Sadness tainted his voice.
She frowned and tried to think of something appropriate to say.
“Looking for the perfect Hallmark words of comfort?” He gave her a wry grin. “They don’t exist in this case. My father was murdered.”
She thought she felt bad before. “That’s horrible. Did the police arrest anyone?”
Jarett’s expression hardened. “The killer was taken care of. We made sure of that.”
A thousand questions lodged in her throat. Afraid of the answers, she swallowed them and retreated to the
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