Nightfire. Barbara McCauley

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СКАЧАТЬ own self-defense, made her stomach twist painfully. “I don’t know.”

      “You have to know. You either take responsibility for yourself or you’ll be a victim, no different from your kids at the center.”

      The anger that shot through her was as swift as it was furious. She leveled her gaze with his, and the fact that he was a good nine inches taller was irrelevant. “You leave the children out of this. They have no choice in their lives.”

      He nodded stiffly. “That’s right. They had no choice at all. But you do. You can walk out of here, or you can be a headline in the morning newspapers whom everyone feels sorry for. What’ll it be?”

      She wanted to walk away, needed to walk away. But the truth of Kane’s words permeated the fist of anger gripping her. He was right. She did have a choice.

      Setting her jaw, she drew in a slow, deep breath and handed him the cup back. “Just get on with it.”

      Kane took the cup from Allison’s hand, watching her eyes shift from the hard edge of anger to the rigid set of determination. Good. Tenacity was always the best pupil, not size or gender. He forced himself to hold her gaze, refusing to give in to the impulse to skim over the curves beneath the skintight outfit she wore that—much to his discomfort—more than defined her gender and size.

      Setting the cup behind him, he faced her again. “The first rule, and most important, is to be aware of what’s happening around you. Watch the movements of anyone walking close by. Keep track of the traffic around you. Always know what your options are, what street you can pull onto, where you can run for help. Be alert to anything, or anybody, out of the ordinary.”

      “Someone like you, maybe?” Sarcasm edged her words.

      One corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Especially someone like me.”

      He moved closer to her and Allison realized he was intentionally trying to intimidate her. Though the impulse to step back was strong, she held her ground, trying to ignore the rapid-fire beating of her heart. “And what if I can’t get away?”

      He moved closer still. “That’s when you need to keep calm and assess the situation. Does he have a gun? A knife? What’s close to you that you might use as a weapon yourself? Your keys, your purse, a picture frame or rolled-up magazine. Anything you can strike with quickly, that will give you the extra seconds you need to run.”

      What she wanted to do was run out of here. Dammit. He was too close. The clothes he’d been wearing yesterday hadn’t revealed how muscular he was. His arms were like cords of steel, his chest as wide as a doorway. She knew that fact should make her feel safe, but at the moment she felt anything but.

      “Most assailants,” he went on, “expect pleading and acquiescence, not a counterattack. Use that to your advantage. Beg with them not to hurt you, then let them have it while they’re gloating over their dominance.”

      “Hit hard, hit fast and get the hell out,” she quoted Kane from yesterday.

      “Good girl.” He smiled. “You pay attention.”

      She wondered if he had any idea just how true his statement was. With no more than ten inches between them, he definitely had her undivided attention. The masculine scent of his skin, the waves of heat radiating off his body. And his eyes. His eyes were deep blue, as brilliant and endless as a moonlit sky.

      Dealing with an attack was beginning to look like a piece of cake next to dealing with Kane.

      Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Now what?”

      “Now—” he grabbed her suddenly “—you’re going to learn how to take the offensive.”

      With his hands wrapped tightly around Allison’s wrists, Kane wasn’t sure who was surprised more—Allison or himself. He’d intended to catch her off guard, of course, but he certainly hadn’t planned to be caught as well.

      Her skin was cool and soft beneath his hands, her scent distinctly feminine. As he stared down at her wide green eyes and softly parted lips, he had to remind himself—again—that Allison Westcott was a client. A beautiful one perhaps, but a client nonetheless. When she tried to pull away from him he held fast.

      She narrowed her eyes. “You really expect me to be able to break out of your hold?”

      “Every hold has a weak point. Mine is here—” he lifted her arms “—between my thumb and forefinger. Twist your arms,” he instructed, “then quickly pull down and away.”

      He had to be kidding, she thought. His hands were like twin bands of iron on her arms. Still, she did as he said. And all she managed to achieve was two sore wrists. She glared at him. “Kane, I can’t—”

      “Just think of it as a dance movement,” he encouraged. “Fast and furious, yet smooth and even. Concentrate. Focus on that weak point and pull your own strength from deep inside.”

      “I can’t—”

      He drew her closer to him. “I’m not giving you a choice. You either break out, or we’ll be standing here all day.” One corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Just you and me, Allison. Alone.”

      The suggestive tone in Kane’s voice was all the incentive Allison needed. Jaw set, shoulders straight, she twisted her arms, pulled down and away.

      It worked.

      She stared at her free arms. She’d done it. She’d actually broken out of his hold. Amazed, she looked at Kane. He grinned at her with that damn I-told-you-so look. The temptation to frown at him was strong, but the satisfaction that rippled through her wouldn’t let her. Instead, she smiled slowly and put her hands on her hips. “All right, Mr. Kane,” she said as she faced him. “You’ve got me for one hour before I have to get ready for work. Teach me what you know.”

      Two hours later, sitting next to Kane on the drive into Seattle, Allison was already regretting those words.

      One hour with Kane had left her feeling as if she’d been run over by a herd of elephants. It was putting it mildly to say that the lesson—like the man himself—had been intense. Her arms were sore from being grabbed and twisted, her wrists bruised and her weak knee, sensitive to extreme movement, was throbbing from the kicks he’d taught her.

      But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil she was feeling. Though Kane had been completely professional, aloof even, the feel of his hands on her, his body pressed against hers repeatedly, had left her a nervous wreck. The contact might not have been gentle, but it sure as hell had been intimate, and her reaction to his closeness was anything but professional.

      And Kane hadn’t batted an eye, not even when he’d wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her against him while he instructed her on the move to break out. It had taken every ounce of mind power to even listen to him, let alone follow his directions. She’d failed miserably on that hold, which only meant that they had to practice it more than all the others. Over and over he’d held her, and each time it seemed closer and tighter, until she felt as if he might pull her inside him.

      Frowning, she glanced over at him. Not once, not when he’d held her, not even when her breasts had been crushed against his chest, had she seen his expression change. Not once had he looked at her as a man looks at a woman.

      So СКАЧАТЬ