Page 39 of The Secret of the Dashing Detective
“To run?”
How was that helpful in teaching her skills?
“Run,” he nodded. “While I will give you some tricks in defending yourself, you will never be as proficient as someone who has trained – or who has used a knife for such purposes before and has no issues in using it again. If you can, you run and find help as quickly as you can.”
“And if that is not an option?”
“Hold your weapon up like this,” he instructed, and then stepped in and moved her fingers into the proper position. Heat practically shimmered out from where their skin touched. “Then stay back about this distance. If you get any closer, it turns into a boxing match which you must avoid at all costs when holding weapons.”
She nodded, understanding what he said even as a tremor ran through her at the thought that it was actually possible she might be found in such a situation.
“You don’t have the killing instinct – in fact I could hardly imagine that you could be any further from a woman with a killing instinct,” he said with a slight snort, and she stopped and tilted her head.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No.” The corners of his lips quirked.
“There is nothing for me to be embarrassed about. I am glad that I am able to help animals who have no one else or who are being treated inhumanely.”
“And I commend you for it,” he said, leaning into her so that she could see the crystal blue of his eyes. “But it doesn’t make you the contender I would bet on in a knife fight.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” she acknowledged.
“What you need to do is focus on trying to connect with the attacker’s knife hand.”
“Why?”
“If you can slice through tendons or muscle, then he would have no choice but to drop the knife and you will then befreeto run.”
She shivered at the thought but nodded resolutely and allowed him to continue. She would not be left to face another situation like she had previously.
“Very well,” she said. “How do I do that?”
“I will show you the how, but more important is the when.”
“When?”
“You need to work on timing your strike. You must strike just before, just after, orasthe attacker is lashing out at you. If your timing is accurate, you will catch him off guard and be able to make your mark.”
“And as forhowto strike?”
“It’s in your wrist,” he said. “Here, let me show you.”
He placed his own knife on the floor and moved so that he was standing behind her. She tilted her head back slightly into him, enjoying his closeness, and she had to physically stop herself from snuggling her body in closer to him where the rough material of his jacket brushed against her back.
His strong fingers wrapped around her wrist as he pulled her arm back, then stretched it forward.
“This is a jabbing motion,” he said, teaching her to move her wrist as though she was throwing a punch.
“Then you have the slice,” he continued, taking her hand in his, and running it from one side to the other in a smooth motion. Juliana’s breath caught.
“And finally, we have the upward stab,” he said, thrusting her hand, wrapped around the knife, upward before them. “I—I am not sure you’ll be needing that one,” he said, and she was pleased to see that he was apparently just as affected as she was.
“Let’s hope not,” she murmured, unable to fathom the thought.
“Try them all a few times – go through them one at a time,” he said, stepping back away from her and she immediately missed the loss of his presence at her back, so solid and comforting and…necessary.
It scared her with its strength, that she could so badly want a man she knew she could never have.
