Daughter of the Mafia

Done Being a Victim: Part 17

It didn't look like a gym. It looked like a very cheap and skanky motel. But she followed her father through an outside door and down into the dungeon of the building.

The lighting was dim inside, so it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. But then she saw a sparring box in the middle of the room, with punching bags and weights scattered throughout. Several windowless doors led out of the room, and muffled clanging sounds came from somewhere beyond. A few other men and women stood about the room watching two people in the sparring box. Jaci stared in fascination at the fluid way they moved their bodies. It was a woman and a man, and it instantly intrigued her that he treated her as an equal. She recognized the kick-boxing moves, but other actions were thrown in, as naturally as if they were choreographed. Her father fell in with a group of men, and Jaci sidled up to Finn.

"What fighting style is that?" she asked.

He leaned his head down closer to her to be heard. "It's MMA. Mixed Martial Arts. We all learn the moves and basics, but in a fight, your goal is to win. There are no rules." He nodded at her leg. "You've seen Karate Kid?"

"That movie from the eighties?" She had to laugh. "Who hasn't?"

"Okay, so, he, the boy, he hurts his leg in the tournament and can't use it. But he doesn't quit because he has other moves. He tries an experimental kick that takes all the weight off his injury, and he wins. Sometimes you have to think outside the box, but your body is a deadly weapon."

Jaci considered that, trying to remember the scene he referenced. Daniel, the main character, was illegally injured and had to stand on his one good leg and issue a kick midair to take out his opponent. Could she do that? Somewhat inspired, she paid more attention to the sparring.

"Hansel." Mr. Rivera stopped a fair-haired man as he walked by. "This is my daughter, Jacinta."

Jaci straightened as the blocky man surveyed her. "Hi," she said. Should she offer her hand?

He gave a head bob in greeting, crystal blue eyes studying her. Jaci's father continued talking.

"I want you to train her. Can you?"

Now Hansel's gaze became more intense. "I will see what she's got. Has she trained before?"

"She's a runner. Done a few triathlons."

Jaci didn't comment. She had done a few before her father left, it was true, but she hadn't since then.

"She can do it," her father said, his tone becoming more commanding. "You might have to push her."

Push her? Jaci jutted her chin out. "You won't have to push me. I'll do whatever you need."

A glint of approval entered Hansel's eyes. "Follow me."

Hansel led her through one of the doors and flipped the lights on, revealing a square room with a pad on the floor. He hadn't slowed for her even when she favored her injured ankle, and Jaci's heart rate increased as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She had the feeling he wasn't going to offer her any quarter.

"Fighting stance," he said, and she moved into position, bending her knees slightly and moving her arms to protect her face. She rocked to the balls of her feet, sucking in a quiet breath when her ankle protested.

He didn't miss it. His eyes flicked to her feet and back to her face. "Where are you hurt?"

"My ankle," she said. "I sprained it three weeks ago." Lucky it hadn't been a bad sprain, but still her doctor had said to give it six weeks before she tried running again.

"Keep your weight off it as much as possible so it is ready to aid you if you need it. Shift your weight to your good leg."

Jaci complied. While the relief to her injury was immediate, she could tell her left leg would soon feel the strain of carrying her body weight.