Page 63 of Missile Strike

Danny dropped the second mat into place and turned to face her, planting hands on hips. The movement stretched the T-shirt across his chest, highlighting the muscles beneath.

Isabella took a hasty sip of her coffee, nearly choking as hot liquid scorched her throat.

His sharp gaze missed nothing. “You alright?”

“Fine,” she wheezed. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

After depositing her mug in the kitchen, she let Trip back in, filled two water bottles, and returned to the garage.

The garage door stood open for ventilation. Outside, her car sat beside the Mustang in the driveway, blocking the view from anyone passing on the sidewalk or street.

He motioned her over.

“First thing is situational awareness. Head up. No phone, no earbuds. Walk with purpose. Make eye contact. Key fob in hand. Check your car before opening it, and lock your doors as soon as you’re inside.”

After positioning her feet shoulder-width apart and bending her knees slightly, he stepped back.

“The most vulnerable areas on a man are the eyes, nose, throat, groin, and knees.”

Taking her hand, he ran a finger over one of her manicured nails.

“You see these?”

His calloused palm closed around hers, sending a flutter through her stomach. “These are a weapon. You jab a guy in the eyes with these nails, and he’ll let go, I guarantee it. Then you run.”

The sensation turned to lead as she imagined sinking her fingers into eyeball jelly. “Ewww.”

“Don’t think about it. Just do it.” Danny showed her how to drive her palm up into an assailant’s nose, then claw at his eyes.

“What if he punches me in the face first?”

“I’ll show you how to block it. Most guys telegraph their punches, and they usually go for the face.”

He demonstrated how to deflect a punch with her forearm and counter with her free hand, putting her through the motion several times before gesturing toward her ponytail.

“Your hair is another way an attacker—man or woman—might try to control you.”

Reaching out, he wrapped her ponytail in his fist and gave a gentle tug, forcing her head back. “What do you do, Bella?”

She grimaced at the awkward pull on her neck. Her hands flew up instinctively, trying—and failing—to pry open his hand. “I don’t know.”

“First, trap my hand against your head.” He guided her hands into position. “Now I can’t yank your head around.”

The pressure on her scalp lessened immediately.

“Next, turn into your attacker.”

Pivoting beneath his outstretched arm, she faced him.

“That’s it. From there, knee, kick, stomp any of the vulnerable areas we discussed—whatever creates an opening to get away.” Amusement flickered across Danny’s face. “You know the most obvious target on a guy, but I’d be really grateful if you only pretended to hit me there.”

A snicker escaped. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

Danny laughed and took a deliberate step back, putting distance between them.

“Let’s move on while the family jewels are still intact. I’m going to show you what to do if someone grabs you from behind in a bear hug.”

She eyed his six-foot-two frame, comparing it to her five-foot-two self. “I’d say I’m screwed.”