Mary Jo tightened her lips but didn't say anything.
"How long have you wanted him?" I asked her.
"You had all these years since Jesse's mother left." Bran's methods sucked.
I watched her eyes darken with pain and wanted to kick myself.
But she'd been at least partially responsible for Adam's wounds.
And I agreed with Warren about fire after watching Samuel scrub dead flesh from live.
Mary Jo had been stupid.
I was betting she hadn't hurt Adam on purpose, but I had to know.
I observed the anger that followed pain rise in her face and just watched her.
"You are nothing ," she spit.
"I'm nothing, too.
That's how I know.
Adam deserves the best.
A wolf strong and beautiful, a woman who is--" "More?" I suggested.
"Smart, well-bred?" "Not a half-breed coyote," she snapped.
Her wolf was in her eyes, and her voice was raw.
"Not a stupid mechanic or a freaking fireman.
There isn't even a proper word for what I am.
Fireman.
He needs someone soft, someone feminine." "He deserves so much," I said slowly.
I had her, even though it made me sick.
Coyotes aren't cats; we don't play with our prey.
"I think he deserves a pack who has his back." "I have his back," she said.
I couldn't see her hands.
Through all this she'd held to parade rest, and her hands were hidden behind her back.
From the flex of her biceps I would bet that they were clenched in fists, and her voice wasn't as hard and certain as she meant it to be.
But her words told me what I'd been watching for, told me that she hadn't wanted him dead.
That made the rest of this both harder and easier.
Harder because she was going to be hurting even more before this was over--easier because she would survive it.
"You have his back, do you?" I kept my voice soft, my body relaxed.