In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(22)

“Exactly. By trying to pull away, you’ve created a tug-of-war situation, where the one with the most brute strength wins. Which one of us will that be?”

“You,” she grumbled reluctantly, giving up her attempt at freeing herself.

“Yes. Me or your probably bigger attacker. Not only have you put yourself in a contest that you won’t win, but you’re doing exactly what he expects.” He released her arm, taking a step back, and then lunged forward to seize her again. Automatically, she tried to lurch backward, tugging against his hold. “When I grab you, I expect you to pull back.”

“So I’m not supposed to try to get free?” she asked doubtfully.

He let her go again and retreated a few feet. “Grab me.”

Grinning, she did, grasping his hard forearm in both hands. Daisy always liked when she got to play the attacker. It gave her a feeling of control, and, although she’d never admit it to Chris, it was a treat to be able to touch him without him trying to leap away from her.

As soon as she gripped his arm, he moved—not backward, like she had, but forward, into her space. Startled, she stumbled back a step.

“And there it is. You weren’t expecting that, so it threw you off balance. Now I’m here, close to you, where I can land a knee”—he mimed the defensive movements as he named them—“an elbow or a palm heel strike.” His hand brushed the side of her neck.

Trying to ignore that light contact, she frowned. “It seems wrong, though, to come closer to the bad guy when I want to get away.”

“That’s why it works. It’s unexpected and counterintuitive. You just need to practice until it becomes second nature. Then your instinctual reaction will be to step into the assailant’s space rather than trying to pull away.”

“Hence aggression drills?”

He grinned. “Hence aggression drills.” With his best villainous expression, he grabbed her arm.

*

An hour later, Daisy was clinging to the grappling dummy.

“Max! Save me from the evil drill sergeant,” she groaned, her legs wobbly with fatigue.

Chris glanced at his watch. “I need to get a few things done at home anyway, so we should probably wrap things up.”

“Thank you.” Even to her own ears, she sounded pathetically grateful. After aggression drills, they’d done a cross-fit workout that included burpees—something Daisy was positive had been invented by the devil in the deepest depths of hell.

He smirked, eyeing her desperate grip on Max. “You two look…cozy.”

Too exhausted to care that she was hanging off a fake, naked man, Daisy just shrugged—or she would have shrugged if her deltoids hadn’t stopped working twenty minutes ago.

“Don’t forget to stretch,” he warned as he walked to the door.

Daisy scowled at his back, annoyed at the way his legs continued to function, even though he’d worked out right alongside of her.

“Thanks, Chris!” she yelled as he headed into the hall. He disappeared, only to stick his head back in a moment later.

“Don’t you need to lock the door after me?”

“Right.” With a groan, she heaved herself upright. Once she was certain that her legs would support her on their own, she left Max with a grateful pat on the rear.

“You’re abnormally attached to that thing,” Chris said as she shuffled to the doorway.

“Max is awesome. As much as I punch him, he never holds a grudge.”

“I let you punch me,” Chris huffed. If she had any energy to spare, she would’ve laughed at his offended expression. “A lot more than Max has.”

Her chuckle came out as more of a wheeze. “Yes, you’re almost as awesome.”

“Almost?”

“Max gets extra points for letting me cuddle him afterward.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could unsay them. Although she didn’t want to look at Chris, she couldn’t help herself—her gaze darted to his face. Immediately, she regretted it. The teasing humor had disappeared, leaving an impassive mask that the sheriff would’ve envied.

The rest of their trip to the front door was silent.

“Thanks again, Chris,” she finally blurted as he opened the interior door.

His nod of acknowledgment was short. “Later, Dais.” Then he was gone.

Securing the locks on autopilot, she heard the clunk of the outer door closing. Her forehead made a similar sound as it hit the wood panel in front of her.

“You’re a bigger dummy than Max,” she muttered to herself. With a groan that was as much about disappointment as it was sore muscles, she pushed herself away from the door and shuffled toward the shower.

That night, she lay in bed, her eyes wide open. Despite the training session from hell, she couldn’t sleep. The light entering her bedroom window was strange. It wasn’t snowing outside, but a cloud had settled over the neighborhood like a blanket, turning everything a foggy white. The illuminated rectangle of her window called to her, but she resolutely ignored it. The memory of the sheriff’s judgmental gaze still stung, and she was determined to break the habit of spying on her neighbors.

It was hard. The book she’d been reading wouldn’t hold her interest, not with teenage domestic drama and furtive junk disposal happening within view. Daisy tried thinking about the upcoming training session, instead. Lou hadn’t wasted any time getting it arranged, and everyone would be coming over at two o’clock on Saturday, just two days away. She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. When she saw that it was after one a.m., she mentally corrected herself. Saturday was only one day away.