Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

garage.” Then he hung up.
    â€œHow about some different bodyguards?” I asked the phone plaintively. “Someone I actually get along with shouldn’t be too much to ask.”
    I set the phone down and glared at it. “Fine. I’ll just deal with her.”
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    When I got home from work the next day, I grimly put on my gi and called him again. “You win,” I said.
    â€œI’ll meet you in my garage.” To his credit, he didn’t sound smug—proof that Adam is a man of tremendous self-control.
    As I trudged across my back field, I told myself it was stupid to be so worried about talking to him. He was hardly likely to jump my bones without permission. All I had to do is keep this on a business setting.
    I found Adam practicing high kicks on a sandbag in the dojo he’d made out of half of his garage, complete with a wall of mirrors, padded floor, and air-conditioning. His kicks were picture perfect—mine would be too if I’d been practicing them for thirty or forty years. Maybe.
    He finished his reps, then came up to me and touched the side of my face. His scent, stronger for his exercise, enveloped me; I had to fight not to press my head against his hand.
    â€œHow’s the head?” he asked. The bruises had faded a bit, enough that customers didn’t look embarrassed when they saw me.
    â€œFine.” This morning was the first time I’d woken up without a splitting headache.
    â€œAll right.” He walked away from me, out to the middle of the padded floor. “Spar with me a bit.”
    I’d been taking karate at the dojo just over the railroad tracks from my shop for a few years, but even so, I was doubtful. I am nowhere near as strong as a werewolf. But, as it turned out, he was the perfect sparring partner.
    My teacher, Sensei Johanson, doesn’t teach the “pretty” karate most Americans learn for exhibition and tournament. Shisei kai kan is an oddball form of karate Sensei likes to call “reach out and break someone.” It was originally designed for soldiers who were facing more than one opponent. The idea is to get your attackers out of the fight as soon as possible and make sure they don’t come back. I was the only woman in my class.
    The biggest problem I’ve had is slowing down enough not to raise questions, but not so much as to allow myself to get hurt. That wasn’t a problem when sparring with Adam. For the first time ever, I got to fight at full speed and I loved it.
    â€œYou’re using aikido?” I asked, backing away after a brisk exchange.
    Aikido is a kinder, gentler method of fighting. It can be used to break people, too, but most of the moves have a milder version. So you can lock the elbow and immobilize your opponent, or put a little more force behind it and break the joint instead.
    â€œRunning a security business with a bunch of ex-soldiers, I’ve found it necessary to do a little sparring once in a while. Clears the air,” he said. “Aikido lets me take them down without hurting them or—before this year—advertising that I’m not exactly human anymore.”
    He closed with me again, grinning as he caught my strike and guided it past his shoulder. I dropped down and swept his leg, forcing him to roll away from me before he could do anything nasty. When he regained his feet, I noticed he was panting, too. I took it for the compliment it was.
    Though we fought at full speed, we were both still careful about how much force we used. Werewolves heal fast, but their bones still break and a punch still hurts. If Adam hit me full force, I suspected I wouldn’t get up soon, if ever.
    â€œYou wanted me to pull the guards I set on you?” Adam asked in the middle of a quick exchange of soft-blocked punches.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe sorcerer thinks I am a coyote,” I explained impatiently. “He’s not going to come looking for me.”
    â€œNo.”
    I landed a blow that forced him off balance, but didn’t fall into the trap of getting too close to him. Grappling with a werewolf is really stupid—particularly one trained in aikido.
    â€œLook, I didn’t mind Warren or Mary Jo. Mary Jo even knows one end of a wrench from another and helped out. But Honey…doesn’t her mate desperately need her to sit and be pretty for his customers?”
    Honey’s mate-and-husband was a plumbing