You go fight him, Mary Jo--and you damn well better win.
You hear me?" She nodded.
"I'll do my best." "You do better than that," he said grimly.
"Mary Jo." Paul's voice was plaintive.
"I 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.
"Are 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.
"The 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.
"Reparations accepted," he said.
"You remember he fights with his heart and not his head." "And 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.