the basketball rim.
Chloe’s laughter rocketed around the metal rafters at the slam dunk pantomime.
He cat-footed his landing and shrugged. “Sorry—habit, I guess.”
“That’s like me trying to conduct the music on my iPod.”
“Pretty much.” He jockeyed forward with a boxer’s bounce.
She stood waiting on the mat, her khakis and flowing white shirt casual enough for her to move around. “Ready whenever you are, Sugar Ray.”
Eyes off the exposed line of her jaw. Her jaw, for crying out loud. A curve with creamy soft skin he could still feel imprinted on his wrist.
He shook off the distraction. “If you’re serious about learning self-defense—and I think all women should be—when you get back to Atlanta, consider taking a course in Krav Maga for women. You have to know Atlanta isn’t exactly the safest city in the world.”
“Krav Maga?” She gathered her curls in her fist and looped the length into some kind of loose knot behind her neck.
“Krav Maga is the official self-defense of the Israeli forces.” He settled into explanation, into the zone, more comfortable in this instructor role. “It’s a take no quarter, practical style.”
“I thought you were into defense with the least damage to the attacker.”
“In my case, the enemy has valuable information, and I want to keep them alive. If you’re in a fight, I doubt the person downing you holds top secret info about enemy forces.” How much would it have taken to bring Chuck down? At what point would he crack? The thin layer of camaraderie he’d felt with Chloe evaporated. “But learning that takes intense training. For now, we’re going to cover some quick and easy techniques.”
“Self-defense 101 for dummies.”
He ignored the quip. “First tip, use anything around you for a weapon: a rock, a pencil, an umbrella. Smash hard things on bone and pointy things into softer areas.”
“The old ‘hold keys between the fingers’ principle. Right. I’m not a total dunce when it comes to being safe. I read all those safety tips forwarded over the Internet.”
“The Internet, huh?” How naïve could she be? “Then I guess we’re done here.”
“Watch it, pal, or I’ll come after you with my conductor’s baton.” The glint in her eyes mixed impish fun and wicked revenge.
He was wading into deep waters here. Back to the instructor role. “And if you do decide to use that conductor’s stick, the most vulnerable strike points are the eyes, nose, throat, groin, and knees.”
“I thought all guys were on alert for the old knee to the groin defense.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, eying him with an intensity that suggested she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to have him singing soprano.
“That’s why you have to be certain of success if you try it. Another option: squeeze the guy’s testicles until he passes out or pukes.” Even the thought made him queasy. Images of overrevved soldiers launching on the stage toward a pale-faced Chloe made him sicker. “If you’re fighting a woman, pinch the inside of her thigh as tightly as you can. It works on a man, too.”
“Pinching?” She tapped her index finger and thumb together, already eying his thigh as if assessing whether she should give it a try right now. “That seems too easy.”
“Hurts like hell.” Even trained in martial arts, he’d used the old pinchers during an escape attempt in Afghanistan. He’d downed the guard until the sadistic bastard hurled, then commandeered his gun and made it out the window to a crappy ass side street before being caught.
In retribution, his captors had strapped him to a metal table and hooked him up to a car battery.
He shoved aside the nightmare and the remembered burn it brought. Sensory recall sucked. “Sure, there are other moves that could be more debilitating, but they’re also more complicated. When that adrenaline’s flooding your system, it can be difficult to remember intricate moves unless
Chloe’s laughter rocketed around the metal rafters at the slam dunk pantomime.
He cat-footed his landing and shrugged. “Sorry—habit, I guess.”
“That’s like me trying to conduct the music on my iPod.”
“Pretty much.” He jockeyed forward with a boxer’s bounce.
She stood waiting on the mat, her khakis and flowing white shirt casual enough for her to move around. “Ready whenever you are, Sugar Ray.”
Eyes off the exposed line of her jaw. Her jaw, for crying out loud. A curve with creamy soft skin he could still feel imprinted on his wrist.
He shook off the distraction. “If you’re serious about learning self-defense—and I think all women should be—when you get back to Atlanta, consider taking a course in Krav Maga for women. You have to know Atlanta isn’t exactly the safest city in the world.”
“Krav Maga?” She gathered her curls in her fist and looped the length into some kind of loose knot behind her neck.
“Krav Maga is the official self-defense of the Israeli forces.” He settled into explanation, into the zone, more comfortable in this instructor role. “It’s a take no quarter, practical style.”
“I thought you were into defense with the least damage to the attacker.”
“In my case, the enemy has valuable information, and I want to keep them alive. If you’re in a fight, I doubt the person downing you holds top secret info about enemy forces.” How much would it have taken to bring Chuck down? At what point would he crack? The thin layer of camaraderie he’d felt with Chloe evaporated. “But learning that takes intense training. For now, we’re going to cover some quick and easy techniques.”
“Self-defense 101 for dummies.”
He ignored the quip. “First tip, use anything around you for a weapon: a rock, a pencil, an umbrella. Smash hard things on bone and pointy things into softer areas.”
“The old ‘hold keys between the fingers’ principle. Right. I’m not a total dunce when it comes to being safe. I read all those safety tips forwarded over the Internet.”
“The Internet, huh?” How naïve could she be? “Then I guess we’re done here.”
“Watch it, pal, or I’ll come after you with my conductor’s baton.” The glint in her eyes mixed impish fun and wicked revenge.
He was wading into deep waters here. Back to the instructor role. “And if you do decide to use that conductor’s stick, the most vulnerable strike points are the eyes, nose, throat, groin, and knees.”
“I thought all guys were on alert for the old knee to the groin defense.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, eying him with an intensity that suggested she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to have him singing soprano.
“That’s why you have to be certain of success if you try it. Another option: squeeze the guy’s testicles until he passes out or pukes.” Even the thought made him queasy. Images of overrevved soldiers launching on the stage toward a pale-faced Chloe made him sicker. “If you’re fighting a woman, pinch the inside of her thigh as tightly as you can. It works on a man, too.”
“Pinching?” She tapped her index finger and thumb together, already eying his thigh as if assessing whether she should give it a try right now. “That seems too easy.”
“Hurts like hell.” Even trained in martial arts, he’d used the old pinchers during an escape attempt in Afghanistan. He’d downed the guard until the sadistic bastard hurled, then commandeered his gun and made it out the window to a crappy ass side street before being caught.
In retribution, his captors had strapped him to a metal table and hooked him up to a car battery.
He shoved aside the nightmare and the remembered burn it brought. Sensory recall sucked. “Sure, there are other moves that could be more debilitating, but they’re also more complicated. When that adrenaline’s flooding your system, it can be difficult to remember intricate moves unless
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