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Chapter Four – Pulling Guard
Pulling Guard: Some fighters are more comfortable fighting from their backs; instead of engaging the opponent in a stand-up war, they will grab the opponent and pull him down to their full guard position. This is uncommon because it practically requires cooperation on the part of your opponent to get into this position.
It had been a long day and Casey was looking forward to a hot shower.
To implement Chuck's plan, they cut surveillance down to just Caldwell's house and kid and made it more obvious. A van in the street, different officers coming and going, and when Evangeline went out she had at least two escorts.
They hoped the obvious presence would keep Smythe away from the kid. And to encourage contact, they reduced the number of officers shadowing Caldwell. Casey posed as a single obvious body guard, but they had constant electronic monitoring via his watch. With the push of a button he could summon others to their location.
The only part of Chuck's plan yet to be implemented was the love interest part. If Casey weren't so physically exhausted, he might have felt on edge about that.
Over the course of the day he had followed Caldwell through a three mile run, a yoga class, three Tae Kwon Do classes, and two private lessons. Now there was a burning sensation in many of his muscles and Casey considered that maybe his time on Team Bartowski had left him soft. Possibly in more ways than one.
Casey waited for Caldwell to see the last student off and watched as she locked the front door of her dojang. When she turned around to face him, he said, "I'm going to grab a shower and then we can go."
She shook her head. "No, you're not."
He raised an eyebrow. "Beg your pardon?"
"No shower," she said, shaking her head and moving towards him. "Not for you… not now."
She quickly closed the remaining distance, jumped in the air, and launched a side kick at his solar plexus. He stepped to the side and angled his body away from the kick. He felt a firm breeze as she flew by him.
"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped as she landed a foot away from him.
She dropped to the mat and swung one leg around, connecting with his ankle and sweeping him off his feet. He landed on his back, his lungs expelling a good amount of air. She laughed. He stared at the florescent light above him, feeling several new sources of pain, and pondering again whether he was going soft.
"We don't have time for this," he growled.
She walked over to him and made the mistake of coming within his reach. "Maybe not, but I need this," she said. "I need to kick your ass, you incredibly huge horse's ass…!"
He reached out with one hand, grabbed one of her ankles and jerked her off her feet. She let out a surprised yelp as she became airborne. She rotated in mid air and landed on her stomach a few feet away from him. He rolled away from her and came to his feet as smoothly as he could considering his complaining muscles.
He waited for her to come to her feet and face him. "Hey," he said with a smirk, "Guess I needed this too."
She gave him a predatory smile and advanced again, this time bringing a series of kicks. He blocked most of them, but caught one hook kick with his chin.
"Ouch!"
She danced out of his reach as he rubbed his jaw. "Oh you big baby, that wasn't even full contact."
"I'm supposed to be protecting you!" he said. "And now you've got me wanting to kick your ass!"
She wore a satisfied smirk. "Good, because that's how it's going to start."
"It…?"
She stopped bouncing and put one hand on her hip. "You were at the meeting this morning, right? You have your orders, Colonel," she said, trying to imitate the General's manner.
His heart stopped for just a moment and he could feel a fresh layer of sweat forming on his palms. He pushed thoughts of romance and pretending out of his mind and focused on being the horse's ass she thought he was.
"So you're that kind of girl," he said with a sneer.
She tilted her head to the side. "Think you're man enough to handle me, Casey?"
"Why don't you come find out," he replied.
She came at him again with a flurry of kicks. He stepped back, timing her. When she hopped in with a front leg side kick, he blocked it with his foot. He grabbed her lead arm and pulled her closer, disrupting her balance, and grabbed her opposite hip with his free hand. He pressed his hip against hers and with a properly placed pop she was up in the air again. He brought her down to the floor with more power than necessary, and she grunted as she hit the mat.
She glared at him. "You know I hate this bullshit, right?" she breathed, her words seething with emotion.
He released his hold on her, but continued to hover over her. "Really? I'm just starting to enjoy it."
She clenched her jaw and he knew he should move, but his muscles wouldn't work fast enough. She brought her legs up, wrapped them around his waist in a scissors lock and forcefully rolled over.
It seemed like she was on top of him before he even made it to the mat. She unwound her legs from him, forced him on to his stomach, and snaked her arms around his neck. She fastened her arms in a choke hold, one forearm applying light pressure to his carotid artery, one hand pushing lightly on the back of his head. If she got serious about it, he would be unconscious in somewhere around 13 seconds.
She put her lips to his ear, "I'm a Marine, not a spy," she growled. "Having to pretend I'm interested in you is ridiculous!"
It was odd the way those words went right to his stomach. He forced his hand up between her forearm and his neck, which he wouldn't have been able to do if she had been serious about the hold, and then rolled over so she was underneath him. He broke her hold, sat up and spun around so that he was straddling her.
He planned to pin her wrists to the mat and hit her with a bitter come back but stopped once he saw her face. Her mask of hate had slipped and she looked slightly soft and more than a little vulnerable. Her hazel eyes shimmered, the golden threads intensifying.
"I know," he said.
She held his eyes a moment longer and then twisted her hips half-heartedly trying to knock him off. He went with it, allowing her to get up. She quickly got to her feet.
"I can't do this." She turned and started to walk towards the locker room.
Casey realized he'd made a tactical error taking the soft approach. He pushed up to his feet, and followed her.
"Then let me make it easier for you…"
He wrapped his arms around her middle, lifted her in the air and slammed her back down to the mats. He followed her down this time and before she could catch her breath, he straddled her, grabbing both wrists and pinning them to mat.
"Bastard!" she exhaled, trying to roll her hips over to push him off again.
Except this time he wouldn't let her. He dropped more of his weight onto her hips. "Yeah, keep doing that. I like it," he said with a sneer.
She stilled and put her eyes on his face. They were back to her normal shade of hate. "Listen," he said in his calmest voice, "this time neither of us have a choice. I say we just get on with it so we can either prove it's not going to work or miracle of miracles Smythe decides to intervene."
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Let me up."
He released her and quickly got up and moved away from her. He didn't really want to spend much more time rolling around on the ground with her.
She slowly came to her feet, holding her eyes on his. She moved her eyes from his face, down over his torso, and over his legs. She spent several long moments studying his bare feet. A new kind of heat began to build between his skin and the dobok he was wearing.
She continued her visual journey, slowly bringing her eyes upwards. She took a few extra seconds looking at each hand and then lingered over his shoulders. He felt oddly exposed… vulnerable even, and he didn't like it.
She finally locked her eyes on his and he noticed they were darker than he'd ever seen them – no green or gold was visible from where he stood. She tilted her head for a moment and parted her lips as if she were going to say something.
She moved on him again, but this time slower. She brought up a front snap kick and left it hanging long enough for him to wrap his hands around her foot. Her eyes stayed on his. The heat continued to build across the entire surface of his body. He released her foot and took a step back.
She followed him, twisted her hips and sent a lazy roundhouse at his head with the other leg. He met foot with another gentle rebuff – his palm cupping the top of her foot for just a moment. The heat was now accompanied by a wave of tension, starting at his neck and slowly moving down his chest. He took another step back.
She stepped forward again, and brought up her leg in a relaxed axe kick. He waited for the contact of her heel on his shoulder and was surprised at how gentle it was. He put one hand on her ankle and held her in place. She took a small hop forward, pressing the entire length of her leg against his torso and Casey felt as if he had been set on fire. He brought his free hand to her leg and gently traced the flow of her calf. When he brushed his hand over the back of her knee, her eyelids fluttered and her breath got caught for just a moment.
He was pretty sure the pretending had just crossed into the realm of reality, at least for him, and he knew he should reset it somehow. But his hand seemed to have a plan of its own. It continued up the strong muscles of her thigh.
She slowly moved both hands to his chest, and pressed her palms against his pectorals. She rolled her head to the side languidly. Then she pushed him away. It was a half-hearted push, but it was enough to break their embrace.
He took a couple of steps backwards until his back hit the storefront windows. She brought her leg down and stared at him for a moment. Then she gave him a sexy smile and closed the space between them.
She looked up into his eyes. With the smile still on her lips and her voice feathered she said, "You know I hate you, right?"
That managed to disentangle reality from pretending in a hurry. He took a deep breath and then exhaled forcefully. "Yeah, mission accomplished there, Marine."
She gave a languid nod of her head and then slowly pressed her body into his. She felt like a wave surging over his body, molding to him as if she were trying to destroy the physical boundary between them. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced before.
Something stirred a few inches below the black belt tied around his waist and he tried to concentrate on listing the missions he'd run in 1995... in alphabetical order. But the moment her lips pressed against his, his brain shut down and his body took over.
His hands moved to her hips. Her hands were more hesitant, one slipping under his arm and moving to his back, the other finding gentle purchase on his shoulder. He was surprised but pleased that her eyes were open. They were still dark, still focused on him.
She tilted her head to the side, changing the angle of the kiss. He parted his lips, and watching her eyes, carefully pressed his tongue against her lips. There was no hesitation in her response. When her lips opened and their tongues met, there was a small explosion at the back of his head.
He pulled away from her and moved a hand to the back of his head, half expecting to find a fresh head wound. He found nothing.
She furrowed her eyebrows. "Something wrong?"
He looked at her and suddenly noticed things he hadn't before. The freckles that were sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. The way her nose turned up slightly. The way her golden-red eyelashes reflected the light. The perfect curve of her bottom lip.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. He lowered his hand and hesitated to set it back on her hip.
She tilted her head and ran her eyes over his face. After a moment of study she purposefully moved her hand over his shoulder, to his neck, and up into his hair. "That's good," she said, pressing her lips to his in a teasing kiss. "Because we have an audience."
