her, Batbayar had opted to teach the class I could fly without the benefit of wings, courtesy of a hip toss. I’d landed too close to the center’s front windows for my liking. The katana bounced halfway across the room before one of the students snatched it off the mat. The gaps between the curtains offered me a view of her—and her a view of me.
All in all, I thought we’d held similar opinions of each other for entirely different reasons. Disgust a bounty hunter had picked up my trail to one of my havens annoyed me into scowling.
She likely scowled, realizing she hunted a relatively useless vixen of a woman.
My opinion of her opinion of me did a good job of getting me back on my feet and fighting like I meant it.
Batbayar wanted to teach me.
I needed to learn.
Despite the old man doing his best to reconfigure me into paste, I survived the lesson. The bruises would take days to heal, assuming he didn’t beat a new set into me the next time I dared to show up, which would be in exactly twenty-two hours.
Batbayar took my katana away, and he held it out for the class to see. “The difference between a novice and a master is hard work. Talent can take a novice far, but I would rather have the hard worker at my back than the talented. Talent can rot away, but hard work will stay with you—until you make the decision to stop working for your skill.”
I could make a few guesses at which students Batbayar meant; about half of the class complained about the exercises meant to strengthen the body and the mind. I’d make a point of practicing at home—or for however long I could return to a home I called my own.
Anna’s presence outside of the martial arts center sent a clear message: the bounty hunters wouldn’t rest until my freedom lined someone’s pockets with cash.
Ugh.
“Jade.”
My name held meaning, and I canted my head to the side and pricked my ears forward. “Sir?”
“I have a task for you.”
Goodness gracious. Was the Mongolian out for my blood? “Sir?”
“The katana suits you, and in order to learn the way of the sword, you must understand everything about your weapon. I want you to seek out wood suitable to carve your own practice blade. I will provide the tools you will need and the instruction you will need to make it happen. It will be an inferior blade, but it will be yours, and you will use it until it is broken. Then you will make a new one, and you will understand a little better about where you went wrong with your first. By the time you are ready for live steel, you will know everything there is to know about your sword and its construction. It will become one with your body, for it will be an extension of you in all ways.”
Excellent. More trouble and extra work on my plate. Somehow, I’d make it happen, even if I had to scour the entire city for scrap—or brave the wilderness outside of the city’s questionable safety. “Understood, sir.”
I’d sworn I wouldn’t run again, and I wouldn’t. No matter where I went, hell would surely follow. At least Mother Nature hated us all equally and would delight in killing anyone stupid enough to get in her way. Anna wouldn’t kill me, as killing me lost her money, but I wanted nothing to do with a big black woman beating me into submission. From the looks of her, she could crack me in half over her knee without breaking a sweat.
The next time I saw Sandro, I’d have to thank him for not being quite as intimidating as Anna. And I’d have to suggest we go to neutral ground, as I’d rather spend the last minutes of my life as a free woman snuggling up to a hot man than a burly woman out for a quick buck.
I’d ignore Sandro’s desire for a quick buck in exchange for him taking his clothes off.
One of these days, the damned fox in me would get me in more trouble than I could get out of. I also needed to slap her furry nose and remind her mating season didn’t happen until winter. I’d need to warn Sandro he should leave Tulsa before winter rolled around, because he’d find himself the hunted rather than the hunter.
My fox cared nothing for bounties or common sense. Instinct ruled her,