Guarding Rachel

By Lesley M. Mathews

Black belt Charlene (Charlie) Abbott has taught kempo Karate to hundreds of children and knows the martial arts builds self-esteem, strength and confidence. But when 13-year-old Rachel Rogers walks into her class, Charlie immediately senses she needs more than to lean kempo. The young girl is frightened of something…or someone.

Haunted by the murder of his sister at the hands of her violent husband Marc Mann will do anything to keep his niece Rachel safe. He knows the girl lives in fear of her father's return and while he understands her desire to protect herself, he also remembers the sense of false security a couple kickboxing classes gave his sister. He doesn't want Rachel to fall into the same dangerous trap.

From he start Charlie and Marc spar over the best way to keep Rachel safe. When Rachel's father returns to claim what's his, Marc follow alone to rescue his niece.

A determined Charlie won't be left behind. But saving her young student will test Charlie's martial art skills and endurance to the limit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mathews Publishing
• Release date: Apr 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736984116

Book preview

Trigger warning: This book deals with the subject of domestic abuse and its aftermath.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Guarding Rachel

Copyright @2020 by Lesley M. Mathews

All rights reserved

www.lesleymmathews.net

Cover design by Ecila Media

Acknowledgements

THOUGH WRITING IS A solitary profession no writer works in a vacuum. I could not write without the help, encouragement and the laughter of many people.

To Barb, Donna L, Donna A and Melia, thank you for all your support, encouragement and the occasional kick in the pants.

Thank you to Selena Blake and her Ecila Media for the fabulous cover. I still get chills when I see it.

Thank you to my many kempo instructors.  Whether they were from Japan, Hawaii, New York or in my home-town they taught me what it truly means to be a martial artist, to fight only to defend yourself or others.

And finally, last but always first in my heart, to my daughter Alyssa, my muse who always keeps me on the right writing path and my husband Gary. Without your love and support this book, and the ones to follow, would not be possible.

Chapter 1

Charlie Abbott pushed her sodden hair out of her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and wiped the sweat off her face. But she never took her eyes off him. He was planning something. She didn’t know what, but whatever it was would be swift and deadly.

Watch the eyes, she told herself as she tried to slow her breathing. They’ll tell you when he’s going to move.

It was a small motion, just a quick shifting of his gaze, and lunged at her.

Strong hands closed around her throat, choking off her air. Charlie struck back, punching her assailant in the stomach, then bringing up her right arm up between both of his. She hit his left arm, then his right, forcing him to release her throat. He backed off but she followed, kicking him in the stomach. He let out a loud oooof and stumbled backward.

Somehow, he stayed on his feet, but this time she saw the silver gleam of a knife in his hand.

He sprang at her, stabbing with the knife. She moved back, avoiding the blade. He attacked again, and once more she evaded him, wrenching her body out of the way.

He sprang at her again, but this time she was ready for him, stepping to the left as she grabbed his blade arm at the wrist. Then she slammed her right elbow into the back of his hand.

Not enough, he snarled, as he twisted out of her grip and buried the knife in her stomach. You’re dead.

Charlie lay on the floor, hand on her stomach. It hurt just to breathe. Her head flopped over to one side. The silver blade of the knife glinted in the morning light. Her eyes closed as her breathing slowed.

Get up, he ordered. You’re not really dead.

No thanks to you. Did you have to hit me so hard? she complained. She sat up, then climbed to her feet, still clutching her stomach.

Master Daniel laughed and helped her up. That’s the new practice blade I told you about. Hard plastic. He retrieved the knife from the floor, tossing it in the air and catching it. It’s hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to damage anyone.

Sting, my ass, Charlie grumbled. I’m going to have a hell of a bruise.

She stood and arched her back, clasped her hands over her head, and stretched. Ow! Did you hear that pop? I’m getting too old for this.

Daniel grinned at her. Then you should have picked another career. He was a tall, good-looking man, over six feet with dark hair and eyes, but his appearance belied his immense power and strength. Let’s finish for today.

Charlie nodded, facing her instructor and placing her open left hand over her right fist as she bowed from the waist. Then they both bowed to the American flag attached to the main wall.

Charlie groaned again as she knelt on her right knee, removed her black belt, and draped it around her neck. There were four red stripes embroidered on one end, indicating her rank as a fourth-degree black belt in kempo.

"I’ve got to tell you, Daniel, sometimes I think that earning my fifth degree is going to kill me. If you don’t kill me first.

I earned mine, was all he said.

And then some, she admitted. Daniel’s belt had seven bands.

I just started younger than you did, that’s all. Besides, you’re almost ready, Daniel assured her. Probably this summer.

Great. More months of torture, then hours of testing, Charlie grumbled.

You’ll be fine. You always complain, always do the work, and you always pass.

I know. She snagged the towel she’d left on a table and wiped her face and neck. At least I don’t have to test with my own students. Do you think that this time you could put Charlie" on my certificate?

What’s your legal name? he asked with a grin.

She sighed. Charlene, she admitted. I guess I’m doomed.

How did you end up being Charlie, anyway? Daniel asked, as he stretched his long arms over his head.

I had no say in it. My mother named me Charlene. But my oldest brother, Joe, was appalled that Mom had the bad taste to give birth to a girl. With three younger brothers you’d have thought he’d have been happy with a sister, but no. Mom always called me Charlene, but I was Charlie to everyone else. Now it’s Charlene that doesn’t fit.

Daniel laughed. How about I put ‘Charlene Charlie Abbott’ on your certificate this time? he asked.

That would be just perfect, she said and smiled.

About your dad. Have you spoken to him lately? Daniel’s voice was deceptively innocent.

You know I haven’t. Charlie scowled. It’s always the same. ‘When are you going to get a real job? What man is going to marry a woman who hits people for a living?’ She sighed. My brothers and sisters-in-law are worse. ‘Come for a visit and meet this nice guy I work with.’ It’s always the same. Jimmy’s wife asked me if I was gay and if that was why I liked to beat up on guys. They just don’t get it.

Some people never do, he agreed. You’re a great Sensei. He used the martial arts term for teacher. Your students love you.

I know. I love what I do. I’m even working with some of the local cops. Their kids study with me and they want to learn some of those new techniques.

Anyone single? Daniel arched an eyebrow.

Not you, too! Charlie mock punched him. No, there’s no one, and there won’t be anyone for a while.

Master Daniel shouldered his workout bag and headed to the door of her dojo. I’ll see you at the tournament this weekend, he said with a wave.

You bet you will, as I’m one of the Senseis running it.

Charlie showered and changed into a fresh uniform. She was glad she’d gone to the expense of having a full bath put in when she opened her dojo. It was worth every penny not to have to run home after her workouts. And she had more hot water here then at her condo.

With a sigh she sank into her desk chair and tried not to groan out loud. She really was going to be sore in the morning; hell, she was going to be sore in a couple of minutes.

Then she opened the local paper and all other thoughts fled. There was another damn editorial.

Saturday night I was flipping through the channels looking for something to watch when I happened upon a martial arts film fest. I needed a laugh, so I decided to tune in.

She read the whole column, cursing under her breath. The columnist, someone named Marcus Mann, hated martial arts with a passion.

He seemed to love boxing, judging from his comments about the Gentleman’s Sport. All punching, no weapons or kicking, just two men fighting mano a mano.

I’d like to get him into a ring. she grumbled. I’d show him how to fight and win without weapons or fancy kicks. She wished she could give him a piece of her mind, and maybe change his. Should she offer him free lessons? she wondered.

She was still fuming over the ugly column when she heard the bell over the door to the dojo tinkle.

Sensei Charlie? came a voice from the doorway.

Charlie looked up, Katie! You’re early for class today.

Katie was a pretty, thirteen-year-old girl. Her dark hair was shoulder length and pulled back in a ponytail. She skipped across the dojo, her brown eyes dancing with glee above her pert, freckled nose. Maybe a little. I brought a friend.

Another girl stepped out from behind Katie. She was about five foot six, and had long, honey-blond hair that reached to the middle of her back. She was slender and, like Katie, she was all elbows and knees as if her body hadn’t figured out if it was done growing yet.

She had the brightest, bluest, and yet saddest eyes Charlie had ever seen.

Sensei, this is Rachel Rogers. She’s a friend of mine and just moved here and, well, I was telling her about kempo, and she wanted to come with me, Katie finished in a rush. Though not quite as tall as Rachel, Katie seemed to hover near the new girl as if to protect her.

It’s nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m Sensei Charlie Abbot. Charlie held out her hand. Rachel looked at it for a second or two before slowly reaching out to shake hands. So, you think you might be interested in kempo? Charlie asked.

I...I think so, Rachel answered in a soft, hesitant voice. Katie talks about it all the time.

I had her bring some workout clothes, Sensei. Can she take class with me today? Katie asked.

I don’t see why not, Charlie answered, smiling at the two friends. Katie is a beginner, Rachel. She just earned her yellow belt a couple of weeks ago, so she’s not too far ahead of you. And this is a beginner class for your age group. How old are you?

I turned thirteen about four months ago, came the soft reply.

Good. Katie why don’t you two go and get changed, and then you can show Rachel some easy stretches. You’ve got about— She checked the clock on the wall behind her desk. Twenty minutes before class.

Come on, Rachel. Katie grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her toward the changing room in the back of the dojo.

Charlie frowned as she watched the two girls head for the dressing room. There was something about Rachel that bothered her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Girls were often shy at this age, and quiet when meeting someone new. But Charlie had worked with enough children over the years to know that there was something else about Rachel.

She shrugged. She was probably imagining things. Still, she decided she’d work with Rachel today and encourage her. With any luck, Rachel would enjoy the class enough that her parents would sign her up for lessons.

It wasn’t long before the dojo was echoing with the sound of chatty teenagers.

Good afternoon, everyone, she said, as she moved to the front of the class.

Good afternoon, Sensei, the group of eleven teens replied together.

We have a new student with us today. At some point, I want all of you to stop and say hi to Rachel. Rachel, looking a bit timid, stood in the second row next to Katie.

"Rachel, the other students are wearing their white gis." She pronounced it gee with a hard ‘g’ sound. The color of their belt shows what level they are. White is for brand-new students, then yellow, orange, and purple belts as they test and advance in rank.

Everyone lineup in front position, Charlie ordered. Every student snapped to attention, standing with feet together, knees slightly bent, and hands held out in front.

Rachel, hold your hands this way, Charlie instructed. Make a fist with your right hand. She waited while Rachel complied. Good, now, place your open left hand over the fist. Exactly right. The fist represents war, and the open hand stands for peace. And peace is always above and over war, Charlie finished. Rachel, you’ll find that much of what we do in kempo, in most martial arts, have different meanings. Kempo means what? she asked the class.

The law of the fist, responded a purple belt in the front row.

Very good. She nodded. And what is the only reason to fight?

To defend ourselves or others, answered another boy, an orange belt, in the second row.

Right, Charlie said with a smile. "Now, right foot out and elbows. Hia!" Charlie cried, and the entire class, except for Rachel, stepped into position. An answering cry rang throughout the dojo.

"Rachel, that sound I made, and that the class made, is called a kiyi." She pronounced it kee-i. We make it every time we throw a punch or a kick. It helps us to concentrate on what we’re doing and focus the power of our punch or kick.

Rachel nodded. Am I supposed to make that sound too? she asked.

Do the best you can. It will get easier the longer you study. And you won’t feel so foolish making funny sounds if everyone else is, Charlie promised her with a smile, and continued with the class.

The hour was filled with drills and repetition. Pleased, Charlie noticed that Rachel was picking up a few things.

So, what did you think? Charlie asked Rachel, after she dismissed the class. Did you have fun?

Yeah, I did, Rachel answered. She still spoke in a quiet voice but she seemed to Charlie to be more at ease.

Good. I’d love to have you join us on a regular basis. Here. Charlie handed the girl a set of papers. These are for your parents. It outlines the program and the costs, as well as the class schedule. I’ll also need you to fill out this enrollment form and have your parents sign it. And bring your folks in, Rachel. I like to know all my families. In fact, we’re holding a tournament on Sunday. There are a couple of other kempo schools coming. And Katie is competing. Why don’t you and your parents stop by and see what it’s all about? It’ll be fun, and you can cheer Katie on.

Ah...maybe, but my...my parents are busy. And they’re away a lot. I’ll tell them, though. Maybe I can come with Katie.

You should come see Katie and the other kids in action. And come back to class next week. I’m glad you came in today. And Katie, good work today.

Thanks, Sensei, Katie replied. Come on, Rach, let’s get changed.

The two girls walked back to the dressing room as Charlie’s next class lined up in the dojo and began stretching.

How are you going to talk you uncle into letting you take lessons? You know he hates anything to do with martial arts, Katie asked, as the girls entered the empty dressing room.

I’m going to try tonight, Rachel replied. "I took the class