STALKING SAPPHIRE (Sapphire Dubois: Book 1)

Chapter 11

Sapphire screamed as her head hit the ground. She arched her body and kicked up with the help of her palms bent backwards, landing back on her feet with a swift motion. She attacked with a kick to the side and an attempt for a foot to the stomach.

Marco grabbed her foot and twisted it to the left, making her body spin right back down to the floor where she started.

“You can’t attack like that. You're angry; you’re not thinking,” he said, looking down at her, offering her a hand.

Frustrated, she let him pull her up. “Let’s go,” she said, making herself ready.

“No. You’ve attacked thirty times and you’ve failed thirty times because you’re in the wrong frame of mind.”

Sapphire strained to breathe and stared at him, determined, her hands resting on her knees. Yes, maybe she was taking her frustration out on poor Marco, but she needed to release it somehow. That girl, dead or alive, was Sapphire’s responsibility. It was all she could think about whenever she closed her eyes at night, whenever she opened them in the morning.

With a yell, Sapphire attacked again, leaving him no choice. They danced around for a whole three seconds before Marco took her arms, creating a straightjacket, and pushed her up against the wall. His breath suddenly changed and his body pushed closer to hers. Marco’s eyes moved down her face stopping at her lips, then back up to her eyes, clearly telling her what he was thinking. He blushed, pulling away, embarrassed. “Class dismissed,” he mumbled, threw her a towel, and moved toward the door.

“Marco.”

He turned around with mixed emotions of hope and pain in his eyes. She knew what he wanted her to say, but she couldn’t.

“Still on for next time?” She didn’t want to lose him. He was a great trainer, and she enjoyed being around him.

“Yeah.” He looked at her for an extra second and then shook his head. “Why did you sign up for intermediate? We both know you’ve trained before.”

Sapphire froze. What in the hell was she supposed to say? If Marco ever tried to register her as an MMA fighter, he’d find her name and social security invalid.

“Maybe I’m just a natural.”

Marco laughed, giving up. “Right.” Then he was gone and Sapphire’s phone rang.

“Crap,” she mumbled and reluctantly picked up. “Yes?”

“This is Detective Ridder from the Beverly Hills police department. We met...”

“For God's sake, Aston, I know who you are. I’ve seen you naked. What do you want?”

A few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.

“We would like you to come in to answer a few questions. Officer Harry’s also on the line so that you guys can set up the time.”

“Hello,” said a second male voice—awkwardly.

Oh God! Sapphire closed her eyes in embarrassment and forced out a greeting. “Hi Barry. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” Barry Harry cleared his throat.

“So what is it about? I already answered a bunch of questions. I just kind of want to put it behind me.”

“It's necessary, Ms. Dubois,” Aston said and then left her alone with Barry.

Two hours later Sapphire showed up at the police station and saw Chrissy step out of her car, looking at herself in a hand-held mirror. She let go of her narcissist complex for half a second to notice Sapphire standing at the top of the steps, staring down at her.