Crown of Souls by Ronie Kendig

Author:Ronie Kendig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense;Christian fiction;Adventure fiction;FIC042060;FIC030000;FIC002000
ISBN: 9781493411948
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-07-17T04:00:00+00:00

24

— DAY 25 —

IRAQ

With the tail of her shirt, Haven wiped the sweat from her face after an early-morning run, then stretched out her legs and arms. Cole had always been intense, but watching him practice kali with a pathetic tree that swayed against his violent strikes . . . That relentless determination to nail every strike, every move, was the same one that made him such a great soldier. He said it relaxed him, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it also fed something inside him. A need to keep moving. A need to attack what he couldn’t put his hands on—like Alec King.

At least Cole was channeling his anger productively.

“Want a go?” Cole twirled the right stick then clacked them together.

It took a second for Haven to realize he was speaking to her. She started. “Me?”

He grinned and tossed the stick to her.

She caught it and frowned. “Seriously?”

With a step back, he motioned her closer. “Chiji’s a better teacher, but I’m not bad.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly.

As she drew closer, he planted a hand on her hip and the other stick in her left hand, positioning her. “I want you to be able to defend yourself better.” He cupped her wrists, rotating them in and out. “Just a fluid extension of your arms, okay?” His breath dashed across her cheek, a bit exerted from his workout, and warm. “First with your right. Strike high—as to the head.” He aimed upward.

She lifted the kali and tapped the tree.

“Now the left.” Back and forth until he had her feet moving in a rhythmic motion. “Now low,” he said. “Like so.” He demonstrated, striking low on both sides. She did that several times, moving quicker with each strike, falling into the motion easily.

“Now high-low-high.”

High on the right side. Swing the arm back to the left side and go low on the tree. Then high on the right again.

The new drill made her stumble the first few times, unsure where to strike when, but within a few minutes, they were moving just as seamlessly as they had with the single moves.

It was a thirty-minute workout that had her shoulders and sides aching, but there was something strangely satisfying about the motion, the clacking of sticks. She understood.

“Sarge, Command radioed,” Maangi announced from the door to the building. “They’re here.”

Arms folded, Cole turned. “They?”

“Apparently the professor’s waiting at the gate, too.”

“On my way,” Cole said, grabbing a rag and starting for the door. “Oh. Hey.”

Maangi hesitated.

“Anyone contact Keogh’s family yet?”

Maangi shrugged—not in a lazy way, but in a weighted, burdened way. “Not that I’ve heard.”

Haven hustled up to Cole. “I doubt Tzivia will like that the professor is here.”

“Why’s that?” Cole asked as they stepped inside.

“They had a falling out.”

He frowned. “How do you know that?”

Haven lifted a shoulder. “She and I talk. On occasion.”

“Since when?”

“Since Jebel al-Lawz.” Haven wasn’t offended by Tzivia or her acerbic nature, nor did the fact Cole and the Israeli beauty had dated make her feel threatened . .

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