Chapter One

Joslyn

I pace back and forth on the bright, hardwood floor of my studio, Tribe of Amazons, glancing down at my watch. It’s only a few minutes before my new class, a women’s self-defense class, is scheduled to begin. I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve been teaching women’s fitness and self-defense for the past few years, and I’m proud to make it my life’s work. But this is going to be different. It’s probably not really nerves, more like an excited anticipation.

I can change the world, one client at a time. And I will.

If one woman avoids being sexually harassed or violated in any way due to my tutelage, then I’ve done my job well. I take women’s safety very seriously.

As I glance around the shiny floor, wall of floor to ceiling mirrors, and state of the art gym equipment, I can’t believe that I finally have my own studio. Especially after years of teaching in little dingy gyms and rented rooms. And the location is stellar. One hell of an awesome situation for walk-ins. I snagged a spot on The Promenade of the Armónico – one of the hottest casinos in Vegas. I can’t wait to see what kind of clientele I’ll attract. Most likely rich women in Stella McCartney for Adidas, or trophy wives striving hard to get their pre-baby body back.

But just like I’ve done since I opened the year I graduated from college, I plan on taking on three students each quarter on scholarship. The local battered women’s shelter doles them out and sends the students to me. I’ve helped more than one woman get out of an abusive situation where if she stayed, she’d have the shit kicked out of her.

Or worse.

The door swings open and Taryn Caldwell strolls in, looking fabulous in a tight black sports bra and black leggings with mesh cutouts. She tosses her auburn hair over one shoulder and smiles at me. Like me, Taryn’s a business owner – she owns a trendy boutique on The Promenade – but unlike me, Taryn seems to live a charmed life.

“Hey, you.” As Taryn tosses me a saucy grin, she stows her tote in a cubby and uncaps a bottle of water. “I thought I’d sign up for your class. Under duress.”

I grin. “Oh, wow, that’s a compliment. I can’t wait to see who else shows up. This one’s full. It seems like I just posted it online, and the applications started rolling in.”

Taryn nods and chuckles as if she knew it all along. “Well, I can tell you that Marcella and Haylee are coming with me,” she says, walking toward me. “And Pepper. You remember her, right? She’s home from Los Angeles right now, so she said she might swing by too.”

“That sounds great. I’m glad to have all of you.”

I can’t deny I love training women who are in peak physical condition. It’s harder to get the older, weaker women to a good place, but I consider it a challenge, and I always get it done. Come hell or high water, every woman gets a fighting chance with me, so they can use that chance fighting against any assailant.

Taryn’s smile fades. “Yeah. I mean, Reagan says it’s not necessary…but I feel like I need to be able to defend myself.” She licks her lips, and it’s the first sign of trepidation I’ve ever seen in this sophisticated woman. Maybe I misjudged her. “And you’re like, so strong, you know? If anyone can teach me how to kick a man’s ass, I’m sure it’s going to be you.”

“Thanks.” I try not to flush at the compliment but feel heat stealing into my cheeks anyway. “It’s always good to be prepared. A woman never knows what’s going to come at her out of nowhere.”

Taryn walks across the floor with her bottle of water clutched in her hand. She sits down and begins to stretch, leaning over her long legs and grabbing the toe boxes of her sneakers.

“I hope I’m not too early. Things got a little hectic at the boutique. I left Bailey in charge for a few hours.”

“No, not at all.” I eye the door to see who’s going to walk through it next. “You’re totally fine. I like people who are eager to learn. It’s always great if I can get started on time. Although, there always seems to be a few stragglers to any new class.”

“I just keep having these nightmares.” Taryn rolls her head back and forth on her elegant neck. “It’s crazy. I’d give anything to make them stop.” She looks up and gives me a rueful smile. “I know it sounds a little nuts, but something told me that if I could learn to defend myself in real life, maybe that would somehow carry over to my dreams.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all.” I sink to the floor and cross my legs, sinking into my stretch. “It sounds smart and practical.”

Taryn smiles. She seems relieved that I don’t think her idea is ridiculous.

“Besides, every woman should know how to defend themselves,” I continue, lengthening my leg to focus on my hamstring. “Even if there’s nothing to worry about. You can’t put a price on peace of mind.”

Taryn’s expression turns dark once again. “You know, this crazy psycho guy was…well, making my life really difficult for a long time, before I met Reagan. Things are better now.” She stops talking long enough to give her head a violent shake. “But I still worry about him. I guess I’d just feel better being alone in a room with him if I knew how to protect myself.”

“This class should help a lot with that.” I jump to my feet and flex my bicep, Rosie The Riveter style.

Without testosterone, I can’t be as huge as I’d like to be, but I’m shredded. All of my muscles are defined and strong. Yoga, Pilates, running, it doesn’t matter. If it contributes to my physical perfection, I’m all over it.

Taryn giggles. “If I can look even halfway like you by the end, I’ll stick with it.” She gets to her feet and stretches, leaning against the wall and bracing her feet on the floor. “And my sisters-in-law feel the same way. We just want to be able to protect ourselves, you know?”

“Definitely.”

The door swings open and I recognize Marcella Caldwell, the wife of the man who owns the Armónico, as well as Haylee Jacobs and Pepper St. Claire.

“Welcome,” I say. “If you girls want to go ahead and get started warming up, that would be great. Make sure you all have a ball from the closet, a resistance band, and a big bottle of water.”

They all nod and smile as they spread out in the room. As I look around, I feel a growing sense of pride and accomplishment. My class hasn’t even started yet, but I have a feeling that everything will run like a well-oiled machine. I make my way to the front of the room just as the door opens again and six more women rush inside, all clutching designer bags and towels. I repeat the instructions to them, then take my place right in front of the big mirrored wall.

“Okay, ladies.” I clap my hands together a few times to demand their attention. “Today we’re going to work on some exercises that will teach you flexibility and strength. After we’ve mastered a few of those, we’ll partner up and start working on defensive moves.”

The women all nod. They’re somber, and I can tell they’re taking this seriously.

“Any questions?” I call out.

No one raises a hand, but they’ve got their game faces painted on.

“Excellent,” I say with a grin as I reach down and press ‘play’ on my speaker system. In a matter of seconds, the intense strains of “The Mars Volta” fill the room. “Let’s get to work!”