Read Simon Says for Free Online

had to remember that he was Barnaby’s son. Once she delivered him to his father, she didn’t plan to get within ten miles of Barnaby ever again.
    Not even for a superhunk like Simon Evans.
    After his outrageous prediction, he’d strolled off without giving her the chance to proposition him, so he still didn’t know that his father wanted to reunite with him.
    Not a problem, far as Dakota was concerned. Waiting around afforded her the opportunity to watch him work. She’d have paid good money for this, so to get to do it for free was a treat.
    Fetching the chair that held her coat and satchel, Dakota seated herself ringside. All three fighters glanced her way, as if awaiting an explanation for her bold intrusion.
    Dakota sat back, crossed her legs, and got comfortable. “Go on,” she encouraged. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
    The retired champion-turned-trainer, Dean “Havoc” Conor, looked to Simon for instruction. Instead of verbalizing his preferences one way or the other, Simon turned to Gregor Marsh, better known as “the Maniac,” and said, “Let’s go.”
    Gregor shrugged his enormous tattooed shoulders and grinned. “Sure thing, Sublime.”
    For the next five minutes, they sparred as if they were in a real competition. Dakota scrutinized every move, every countermove, and when they stopped for a break, she again approached the ropes.
    â€œHey, Gregor?”
    The giant looked up from his conversation with Dean. His brows lifted in comical surprise.
    â€œCome here.”
    Dean turned to glare at her, letting her know without words that her intrusion was unwanted.
    Simon didn’t say anything either. He just tipped up a water bottle and took a long swig.
    Reluctantly, Gregor walked over. “What?”
    She indicated he should lean down so she could talk to him without anyone else hearing. With even more reluctance, he bent down.
    â€œSimon’s killing you with those kicks.”
    â€œNo shit, Sherlock.” He grunted at the obvious. “At least he’s not hittin’ my liver.”
    â€œA deliberate choice on his part, because he wants to keep practicing.” A liver kick would leave Gregor done for at least an hour.
    â€œWhat’s your point, dollface?”
    Gregor looked annoyed enough to send most people scampering away. But Dakota wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but he’s telegraphing those kicks. You can block them if you know what to watch for.”
    Bemused with the conversation, Gregor looked back at Simon—who stared at them both with piercing intensity. Proving that he enjoyed provoking his friend, Gregor faced her again. “You don’t say?”
    She nodded. “Right before he kicks, he tightens his jaw.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œIt’s an indication of what’s to come. I’ve seen him do it every single time.” Dakota stepped back and put her hand on her right thigh. “You’re leading with your right leg, which is why he keeps going after it with that low roundhouse kick. When he tightens his jaw, get ready to lift your leg, like this.” She demonstrated what he should do. “That’ll block it, and confuse him at the same time.”
    â€œI know how to block a kick.”
    â€œWhen you see the kick coming. So far, you haven’t seen it, so Simon isn’t expecting you to block it. When you do, that’ll be your opening.”
    Intrigued, Gregor studied her with new awareness. “My openin’ for what, exactly?”
    She looked around Gregor, saw Simon’s scrutiny, and hurried through the rest of her instruction. “You need to get Simon’s attention upstairs, instead of downstairs with your legs. Do this.” She demonstrated a fast combination of hits.
    â€œThat’s a basic combo,” Gregor argued.
    â€œYeah, but you’re not using it! And