Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

I really didn't want to go to the Wok Inn that night. I was sick and tired, and after Poppy's experience with Harvey Ware, I wasn't okay with leaving her alone, especially at night, but duty called. Maggs would stay with her, and then Marley volunteered to come by and work in the shop with her so she was covered. That was a solid kid.

So yeah, I was going. I'd done missions feeling worse. And there was no way I was letting Rose go there without me. The woman flirts right in front of me. Even steals other men's wallets.

I also really wanted to go find Harvey Ware, but I'd promised Rose that I wouldn't.

Today.

Tomorrow, Harvey was a dead man.

I was in the living room of Oz's apartment trying to find more money or clues to the whole gold business while sneezing when Rose walked in looking good in a t-shirt and leggings—no apron—but also looking deadly serious, so she hadn't come to me for sex. Even I could pick that up from her demeanor.

"Max."

"Yes?" I had no idea what was coming, but her tone indicated whatever was coming, I'd better agree with. I'd learned that much.

"I've been thinking. I have pepper spray, but what if I don't? What if I can't get to it? What if somebody grabs me and . . ."

She swallowed hard, and I felt anger surge up again and was tempted to track down the son-of-a-bitch right now and?—

But Rose cut my thoughts off. "Before you go all vigilante on me, I need you to help me. You're not going to be here much longer. I have to know how to defend myself. By myself."

My anger washed away with a surge of guilt. "Okay," I said, not sure where this was going.

"Show me how," Rose said.

I thought of the thousands of hours I'd spent in gyms, in sawdust pits with insane mixed martial arts instructors, in safe houses when I was bored out of my skull, sparring with other operatives, learning from them and teaching. All the various forms and techniques I'd had thrown at me and had practiced. About a dojo master in the Far East who'd told me, after I complained about not perfecting a certain move, that I just needed to keep doing it. I'd asked how many more times, and he'd replied sagely: "Ten. A hundred. A thousand. Ten thousand. More. Until."

Deep.

But he'd been right.

All of that was about technique and muscle memory. In fact, the most important thing I'd learned out of all of it was how to fall without hurting myself, something that became more and more important as I got older. Rose didn't have time for the muscle memory part.

But technique?

"Sure." I put down the map I'd been looking at and focused on her. "First, forget everything you've seen on television and in the movies. Those are choreographed dances. Real violence is fast and brutal. The good news is the vast majority of people have no idea what they're doing."

Rose nodded, looking tense.

"So you use that against them," I said. "Even if they do know what they're doing, you can still handle it." I was being optimistic there, but if a player went after Rose when she was alone, well, I didn't want to think about that. Then again, she was full of surprises and players tended to be overconfident against civilians. Hubris. She'd done a number on Ozzie Junior, although he'd been more of a fourth-string player.

"Come at me like you want to kill me," I said.

Rose blinked. "How?"

"Like you want to grab my neck and choke me," I clarified.

She came at me, slowly, tentatively. I put up a hand. "Like you mean it. Think of a time I made you angry. Really angry."

I was a bit disconcerted by how quickly her mood changed. She charged at me, hands going for my neck. I twisted, using a middle block, then put my knee into the back of hers.

Her leg buckled but I caught her before she hit the floor.

"Okay, what just happened?" she asked as I helped her to stand.

"I redirected your attack. That's the thing to keep in mind. Don't meet force with force. Especially if it's a guy and he has more force."

She nodded, and I saw the pain on her face. I was definitely going to do something painful to Harvey.

Then I sneezed.

I blew my nose and then I said, "See what way his force is going and shift it. Then use his momentum against him. In this case I pushed your hands aside but you were still going forward, so I put my knee into the back of yours as you went by me."

She nodded, frowning, so we went through it again, slower this time, so she could see how it worked.

"I understand it," she said finally. "I don't know if I can do it."

"We'll practice," I told her, and then I showed her a basic stance that would keep her balanced since footwork is critical. When we'd practiced that, I went over to Oz's gun rack and grabbed an old-style army bayonet in its scabbard. I remembered bayonet training decades ago in Basic. I'd heard they no longer did that in the Army. As if by some random new law of the universe, you're never going to end up face-to-face with some nutjob trying to gut you.

"The quick and the dead," I said.

"What?" Rose asked.

"A mantra we chanted during bayonet training," I said. "There are two types of bayonet fighters. The quick. And the dead."

"Oh. Great."

I guessed she didn't want to hear the "Blood, blood, makes the grass grow" chant we also used.

"Realistic. Here." I handed the knife to her. "You are now armed. Try to stab me."

She hefted the blade in its scabbard. I expected her to come high, trying to strike down like an amateur, but instead she went low, jabbing up. But slow, as if afraid she might actually stab me. I easily blocked it.

"Full speed, Rose. You're not going to hurt me."

She stepped back, uncertain. Then she nodded and changed tactics and slashed at my face. I leaned back, the knife missing me by just a few inches, then I slammed the palm of my hand into the back of the elbow of her knife hand, using her momentum to put her back to me, then snaked my other arm around her neck and pulled her into me.

I was distracted for a moment, her soft body pressing back against me. But she was afraid, afraid enough to ask for help, so no on a pass?—

Then she reacted, dropping down and twisting and almost getting away. We struggled for a few moments and then I let go.

"Did you see how I used your power against you?"

She nodded.

"Okay," I said. "Your turn."

We went at it. Me trying different assaults, her trying to redirect the attacks. It was awkward at first. But soon we were both sweating and breathing hard and she was getting it. Blocking. Redirecting. Moving. She was a natural.

Then I showed her the vulnerable places to strike on the body to slow, if not incapacitate, an attacker, with the caveat that running away was always the best option if viable.

"Remember, Rose," I said. "Use anything available as a weapon. Like you used the Maltese Falcon against Serena. You'll be amazed at the things you can use to hurt someone, to distract them." My mind slid into a dark place, full of not amazement but horror at what humans were capable of when their life was on the line. I pulled back from that. "Whatever is at hand. Okay. Let's practice some more."

After almost two hours, she finally managed to hurt me with a strike to my throat that left me coughing and bent over.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, sounding horrified while she patted my back.

"Never say you're sorry when fighting. All is fair in love and war."

But by that time, we needed a break, and I needed Rose, so I looked up at her and smiled. "How sorry are you?"