The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo
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Knowing how to protect herself against a physical assault was vital, even if it wasn’t a fact she wanted to face. He didn’t know if her ex—this Chris—would actually resort to violence, but it would be better for her to be prepared.
Besides, knowing she could physically handle herself would empower her.
He straightened and readied himself for an argument. ‘Self-defence classes have just become a mandatory requirement for the position you were offered this morning, Neen. It’s one of the things I came around to discuss with you.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Ooh, Rico D’Angelo, that’s a big, fat lie.’
For a moment he thought she might even laugh. He’d like to see her laugh. He frowned and dragged his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘It was an oversight of mine that I forgot to mention it when I interviewed you. The fact is you’ll be working with disadvantaged youths. Some of those kids have been brought up by the scruffs of their necks.’
‘And violence is a language they know?’
‘Fluently.’
He had no intention of staffing the caf'e with anyone who had that kind of a question mark hanging over them, but... He stared at Neen and his blood ran cold. ‘I don’t think we’ll run into those kinds of problems, but you will be dealing with teenagers.’
‘And teenagers can be hormonal and unpredictable?’
He let out a breath when he realised she wasn’t going to put up a fight. ‘So can some of their parents and friends. It’s the world they’ve grown up in.’
‘Which you’re trying to change?’
He read the scepticism in her eyes. He should be immune to such scepticism—he fought it every working day of his life—but for some reason hers burned and chafed him. He rolled his shoulders and tried to dismiss it.
‘The caf'e budget will cover the cost of your self-defence classes.’ She looked as if she was about to argue and he held up a hand. ‘I insist. I’ll be the one choosing the trainer, and I’ll be receiving reports on your progress too.’
She blinked.
He’d make sure he chose the best. He couldn’t believe this hadn’t occurred to him before. If he could get more funding for future initiatives of the same nature, he’d make it an essential requirement for all his managers.
‘I’ll wait to receive the details from you, then.’
She turned to survey Monty and he couldn’t help noticing how the sun picked out the lighter strands in her chestnut hair. ‘I can’t believe how much energy that dog has.’
Monty still frolicked in the waves—chasing them as they receded, snapping at them and leaping over them as they rolled in. The dog’s utter physical joy in being alive struck him.
He shook himself. What was he thinking? He was too busy these days for swimming and beachcombing. He set his jaw. And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit.
He swung back to Neen. ‘In the meantime...’
She raised an eyebrow.
He’d make sure her class started asap—next week if he could arrange it—but... ‘It won’t hurt for you to have a couple of pointers now. Remember, if someone does attack you, your primary goal is to disable them long enough to get away. You don’t want to stick around and fight someone who’s bigger and more experienced than you are.’
‘Right.’
He set her square on to him. ‘If your attacker comes at you from the front, like this—’ he made as if to grab her shoulders ‘—I want you to knock his arms away like this, then grab a fistful of his shirt and knee him in the groin as hard as you can.’
She eyed him doubtfully. ‘As hard as I can?’
‘Believe me, any jerk who tries to grab you deserves everything you can throw at him.’
‘Right.’
‘And scream. Scream your head off as hard and as long as you can.’
Nine times out of ten fear of discovery would have an assailant hightailing it for the hills. ‘Now turn around.’
She did.
‘If an attacker grabs you from behind, like this—’ he seized her around the shoulders, pulling her hard back against him and pinning her arms to her sides ‘—I want you to—’
He broke off as a growling, snarling dog hurtled towards them. Monty had been transformed from boisterous goof to frightening assassin in a blink, and Rico watched in frozen fascination.
Neen, however, was caught by no such abstraction. Before he had the wit to push her behind him she’d reefed out of his hold and boomed, ‘No!’ at Monty, holding one hand straight out in front of her like a traffic cop.
The dog skidded to a halt, kicking up sand.
‘Down!’ she commanded in a hard, loud voice, making a demanding downward motion with her hand.
Monty whined and pawed at the sand.
‘Down!’ She repeated the hand signal.
Monty lowered himself to the ground, resting his nose on his front paws, but his eyes remained glued to Neen.
‘Dogs work on a system of hierarchy,’ she told him in a much softer, more modulated voice.
‘Uh-huh.’ His heart-rate started to slow.
‘I need Monty to know that you’re higher in the food chain than he is, so he learns to treat you with respect.’
He swallowed. ‘Happy to help out in any way I can.’
‘Shake my hand.’
He did.
‘Now keep hold of it and bend down so I can kiss your cheek.’
He did as she bade and her scent hit him hard—a mixture of strawberries and oakwood...and dog. Cool lips touched his cheek and something in his chest lurched. Suddenly every bad-boy impulse he’d spent the last ten years repressing roared into ear-splitting life.
And then she moved away, although she kept hold of his hand. It gave him a chance to drag a steadying breath into his lungs. It was the beach. It had to be. All this sun and sand. It had been a long time since he’d stopped to enjoy either. And being here felt like a holiday.
‘Monty.’ She kept her voice soft and clicked her fingers. The dog immediately rose to nuzzle her hand. ‘Put your hand down to him, Rico, so he can smell it, remember it...and apologise.’
Rico did as she said, not the least afraid Monty would bite him now. Neen’s confidence had filtered into him, and he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would put anyone at risk. Monty promptly licked Rico’s hand.