Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

don’t want to hurt you, woman.”
    She kicked off her shoes and started pulling off her socks. “Do you yield?” she asked him, while she stood on one foot.
    He stared at her, his body tight with growing anger. “I stuck my neck out for you,” he said.
    She nodded. “Yes. And I was wrong to ask you to.” She tossed her second sock aside and looked at him. “But Henry used both of us to ruin our pack. Are you going to let him get away with it?”
    It was very quiet in the garage. I’m not sure anyone was even breathing. Henry’s name had been a shock. Heads turned toward Henry, who was leaning against the wall between the garage doors, as far as he could get from Adam’s side of the mat.
    Paul looked at him, too. For a moment, I thought it was going to work.
    â€œAre you going to let some girl lead you around by your tail like I did?” Henry said, sounding miserable. “She wants Adam, and she’s willing to throw both of us away to get him.” It was a masterful performance, and Paul bought it—hook, line, and sinker.
    â€œThe hell with you, then,” Paul said to her. “The hell with you, Mary Jo. I accept your challenge.” He looked at Adam. “You’ll have to wait. I guess I’ll eat my dessert first.”
    And he strode to the far end of the mat, next to Henry. Mary Jo walked up to where Adam was standing.
    â€œReparations accepted,” he said. “You remember he fights with his heart and not his head.”
    â€œAnd he moves slower to the left than the right,” she agreed.
    Adam left her. As he walked across the white mat, he left little traces of blood wherever his foot hit. Blood was better than yellow pus, right?
    â€œGood job,” he murmured when he came up to me. “Thank you. I couldn’t tell if you could hear me or not.”
    Warren yielded Adam his place between Jesse and me, moving around Jesse so he could still help her if he was needed. Sam moved around to my side and lay down on the cement with a sigh.
    â€œSee if you congratulate me when she’s lying dead,” I said, very quietly. I’d have told him about her ribs, but I was afraid that the wrong person would hear, and Paul would find out. Henry knew, of course . . . but somehow I didn’t think he would tell Paul that he’d broken Mary Jo’s ribs. Paul wouldn’t understand—and Henry was smart enough to know that.
    Mary Jo adopted Adam’s horse stance and faced Paul, whose back was to her.
    â€œChallenge given and accepted,” Darryl said. “Fight to the death with the winner having the option to accept a yield.”
    â€œAgreed,” said Mary Jo.
    â€œYes,” said Paul.
    Mary Jo was faster, and she was a better-trained fighter. But when she hit, she didn’t hit as hard. If Paul had been nearer to her size instead of four inches over six feet, she’d have had a good chance. But he had over a foot of height, which translated into reach. I’d remembered from his fight with Warren that he was surprisingly fast for such big man.
    Eventually, he landed a fist on her shoulder that put her down like she’d been hammered.
    â€œYield,” he said.
    She stuck her feet between his and knocked them apart. Then she rolled like a monkey between his spread legs, elbowing him in the kidneys as she rose behind him. A second kick behind the knee almost had him on the ground, but he recovered.
    â€œYield like hell,” she gritted, when she was a few body lengths from him.
    â€œQuit being easy on her,” said Darryl heavily. “This is a fight to the death, Paul. She will kill you if she can. If you accepted her challenge, you have to give her the respect of fighting her honestly.”
    â€œRight,” said Adam.
    Paul snarled soundlessly, and stepped back to the edge of the ring, raising both arms to a high block position, his feet perpendicular to each other, hands loosely fisted, deliberately inviting a strike to the torso.
    Trouble with baiting a trap like that was that if Mary Jo handled it right, she might be able to turn it into a very big mistake. I grabbed hold of Adam’s arm and tried not to dig in my fingernails. He was tense beside me, muttering, “Watch out, watch out. He’s faster than he looks.”
    Mary Jo went slowly left, then right, and Paul turned easily to face her. She shifted her weight to the right—but with a blur of