Spy Games by Gina Robinson Page A

use words. I’m pretty quick with an insult.”
    He raised a brow. “No experience at all?”
    “I have two older brothers so I have to lay claim to my fair share of horseplay.”
    “How’d you come out in that?”
    “When I squirted them with my perfume, I was pretty victorious. They tended not to like that a lot. No boy wants to be a girly-smelling guy.”
    War nodded his approval and smiled at my attempt at levity. “A squirt to the eye with just about anything can be temporarily disabling and give you time to escape. Anything can be used as a weapon, R. Keep that in mind at all times. Do you ever carry hairspray with you?”
    I nodded.
    “Good. Hairspray is particularly effective when sprayed into the eyes or directly into the mouth or nostrils,” he said.
    “Good to know,” I said. “And, now that I think about it, patently obvious. All the boyfriends I’ve ever had have run for cover whenever I’ve pulled out the old hairspray. Men fear it.”
    War smiled and tapped his temple. “Way to think like a warrior. Any other experience? Think vicious.” He laced his voice with sinister to emphasize his point.
    “Right, Reilly Vicious.” I paused, nodding. “Think eeeviill.” I pursed my lips. “My mom tells me I was a biter when I was young. But I haven’t used that skill since I was five and bit my cousin at his birthday party. I got punished for that, by the way.”
    “Different social situation. Different protocol.” War rubbed his chin in thought. “Biting’s a skill you’d be wise to recover. In this case, I’d reward you for defending yourself with a good chomp.”
    I nodded in understanding. “Gotcha.”
    “I’m not kidding.”
    I must admit, he sounded serious. “Neither am I.”
    He nodded. “Good. Ears are an excellent target for a bite. They’re readily available and he won’t be expecting it.”
    I nodded again.
    “Ears are a good bet in other ways, too, if you can get to them. Clapping both your palms simultaneously over Brooks’s ears will produce a nasty numbing pressure change to his brain. It’s even been known to cause unconsciousness. A quick, sharp movement is best.” He demonstrated the motion, though not on me.
    “Is it more effective than the Vulcan shoulder pinch?”
    War grinned. “Much.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “From what you’ve told me, you have good, natural fighting instincts, R.”
    Bless his heart, he was trying to bolster my confidence.
    “Maybe I did as a kid.”
    “Then think like a child. Let go of your socially imposed restraints. Trust your basic instincts in a fight,” War said. “The key is to keep your attacker off guard and fight dirty. There’s no such thing as a fair fight when you’re fighting a bully or for your life.” He gave me a penetrating look. “Got that?”
    “Got it.”
    “Good. Now look around this room and tell me what you could use as a weapon.”
    “Lamp?”
    “Sure. What would you do with it?”
    “Swing it like a bat. Or crash it over his head.”
    “Okay. What else?”
    “Chair. Use it as a shield.”
    “Fine.”
    I scanned the room. “Ashtray.” I paused. “Ashtray? Not many of these left anymore. Maybe in a bar.”
    “What would you do with it, R?”
    “Whack them with it.”
    “Or throw the ash in their face.” He raised his brows in a look that asked if I was following him.
    I nodded.
    “Fireplace ash would work as well. You could use the ashtray or a coaster as a Frisbee-type missile. What else?”
    I looked around the room. It was pretty sparse. I shrugged.
    “Newspaper or magazine,” War said, picking one up. “Roll it up and use it as a baton. It’s a great weapon to use to fight off a knife attack.”
    “Oh,” I said, feeling inadequate.
    War tapped his head. “Think like a warrior.”
    “Right.” I nodded again. I was doing so much nodding I felt like a bobble-head doll.
    War stood and reached into his pockets, pulling out a handful of change. “I don’t