Page 53 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
“Target Vulnerable Areas: Eyes, nose, throat, and groin.”
“What moves have we practiced?” he asks, the heat of his body at my back but not touching.
“Hammer strike, heel of hand, and elbow strike. And of course, classic, groin attack whenever I have access.”
“That’s my girl,” he says matter-of-factly, but my heart races, liking the idea of being his.
His arms wrap around me. “Escaping a bear hug attack. In case an attacker comes from behind, I want you to get low and create space to free yourself.”
“Okay,” I focus, channeling everything he’s taught me this week.
Luke tightens his hold. “Bend forward from the waist.”
I do.
“This shifts your weight forward, making it more difficult for your attacker to pick you up.”
“Got it.”
“From this angle, you can throw your elbows from side to side at the attacker’s face.”
I try the move in slow-motion as we always do before exercising the technique fully.
“Good. Turn into the attacker with one of your elbows and counterattack.”
I demonstrate swinging my elbow at his face and punching down at his groin area.
“Perfect,” he says. “Turn fully after your counterattack, push him away, and run off.”
We practice it slowly a few more times until it feels natural and second nature. The more I get into the flow, the stronger I feel, secure. Having the ability to take care of myself in a dangerous situation significantly changes the hold fear had onme. For once, it feels possible to fight back, get away, refuse to be a victim.
“Now, for real,” Luke says, stepping away. “I’m going to come in unexpectedly. In real time, no more slow. Attack it as you would. Don’t fear hurting me.”
“I’m not going to actually elbow your face and groin, Luke.”
“I’ll dodge them. Trust me.”
“And them? Would my attacker dodge them, too?” That would suck.
“I already know what you’re about to do, Brown Eyes. Your attacker wouldn’t.”
“Right,” I exhale. “Okay,” I nod, bouncing on my feet, energy coursing through my muscles.
I stand, waiting. And waiting.
I frown, wanting to look over my shoulder. Nerves flutter in my gut. The anticipation grows into anxiety. I shake out my hands, close my eyes, and breathe in.
You’re safe. It’s Luke. You’re in control.
A body slams into my back, pulling a gasp from my lungs as his arms tighten around me.
“No,” I groan, falling into action.
It’s not as rehearsed and clean as when we practiced. He’s holding me tighter and fighting me this time. I drop all my weight at the waist, loosening his hold. I twist and in that moment, it’s not Luke’s beautiful face I’m seeing, it’s an unknown attacker.
I swing my elbow back with a grunt.
I punch low, almost hitting him in the balls.
