“Hey there, kumquat.” A low, growly voice made her jump, and she looked down between the bleachers to see Andrew Roberts perched under them, peering out between the seats with interest. “Looks like a damn bathrobe convention, don’t it?”

“It’s…unique,” Kerry agreed, as she watched some of the younger contestants run at each other screaming.

Andrew grunted, his head moving back and forth inside his hood as he observed. “My kid looks damned good, you know that?”

Kerry obligingly turned to the tall, dark haired form running through a few basic warm-up drills while she waited. “Does she? I mean, 52 Melissa Good well, yeah, I think she does anyway, but...”

“Yeap.” Dar’s father nodded. “Lookit that kick. I couldn’t get that high when I was getting paid for it.”

“She’s very flexible,” Kerry agreed.

“Huh.” Andrew chuckled, deep in his throat. “You’d know.”

Kerry stared at him in puzzlement, then blushed. “Oh, god.” She was saved by the bell, literally, and she turned to watch the first set of matches.

She really hoped Dar did well.

After all, she had a bet on with Andrew about that trophy.

DAR’S FIRST MATCH was the third one listed. She spent a moment wishing she were somewhere else just before she had to pad onto the mat and spent another moment hoping she didn’t throw up before she got there.

It was really ludicrous, goddamn it, she was an internationally known corporate CIO, who ate company managers for lunch, and here she stood, worrying about upchucking in front of a boisterous Saturday afternoon crowd at the local gym.

Shit.

Dar glared at her opponent in pure annoyance, a man slightly her junior, with a sturdy, well knit body and intelligent eyes.

Which widened a little as they met hers. Dar could only wonder what her expression looked like, before the whistle blew and they circled each other. He dodged towards her and she blocked him, feeling the nervous energy make her reactions sharp and almost edgy. He tried again, and she evaded the kick, countering with one of her own that, with help from her longer legs, connected and turned him halfway around and almost dumped him.

Okay. Dar flexed her hands, and watched him, feeling her heartbeat settle a little. She tried a little feint of her own, then realized it was going to work and followed through, neatly sweeping her opponent off his feet and taking advantage of that.

One fall down.

Hmm. Dar watched him dust himself off and face her, seeing something in his eyes that sent a shot of adrenaline right through her.

Now, intimidation…that she recognized and her aggressive instincts flared as she swept in again, this time with more assurance, letting the watching crowd fade out as she dropped him a second time.

The whistle blew a minute later and she stepped back, clearing the mat for the next match, feeling a little surprised and a lot less nauseous.

She snuck a look at Kerry and found a grin waiting for her, along with a little wink.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“She did okay, right?” Kerry whispered.

“Damn straight.” Andrew had his chin almost resting on the step her Eye of the Storm 53

feet were on. “Knocked that silly assed punk right on his keester. That’s my girl.”

Kerry muffled a chuckle. “You are so cute.”

One blue eye edged around the corner of his hood and pierced her.

“’Scuse me there, young lady. Watch yer mouth.” He growled. “I am not having no little kumquats calling me stuff like that.”

“Ah. I see where she gets that, too.” Kerry grinned and turned her attention back to her lover, who was getting a drink of water from the blue neoprene thermos she habitually carried.

Dar’s eyes were a little brighter now, she noticed, and she seemed looser and more relaxed. She was talking with Ken, who had finished his own bout just prior to hers, and watched the action.

Kerry wondered if she realized just how many people were actually watching her, instead of the matches. She kinda hoped she didn’t. At least until it was over.

“Who you got next?” Ken craned his neck to peer at the small piece of paper Dar had. “Oh. Nice slate.” He nodded. “They’re all pretty decent fighters. I got lucky with mine. The first three of ’em are strictly hacks.”

“Mmm.” Dar tucked the paper away and took another sip of water.

She watched the match in progress, and replayed her last one with a sense of mild satisfaction.

Her next match was an easy one, then the third was a little harder, her opponent a tough, determined woman with a permanent scowl and a feisty attitude that almost made Dar want to offer her a job. The woman used her smaller size to get inside Dar’s defenses, but found out, a little too late, that it was a mistake to get caught by the taller woman’s powerful grip.

Dar wiped the back of her neck with her towel, clearing the sweat a little, and glanced at the board, where a perky scorekeeper was moving names around. Hers was in one of the upper tiers, and she felt a sense of satisfaction at her accomplishment so far. Six matches and she’d won half. That was not too goddamned bad for someone who’d been out of competition for as long as she had and Dar knew she had every right to be completely happy if she lost every single one of her remaining three matches.

Her name was called for her fourth match. She put her thermos down and flexed her fingers as she re-entered the circle sketched on the mats. This time, her opponent was an older man, with the hard eyes and callused hands of an instructor, and her pulse picked up as her now warmed up body scented a challenge.

He eyed her coolly, intent on intimidating, and received a dazzling smile in return, which made him blink in surprise just before he was caught in a combination move that knocked him backwards almost onto his butt.

“Son of a bitch,” he blurted.

Dar patted her chest. “Nope. Wrong gender and don’t you be calling my daddy names like that.” She roundhouse kicked him and sent him fly-54 Melissa Good ing out side the circle with a thud as he hit the mat. He got back up and they circled each other, trading feints and jabs.

Weeks of pushing herself and weeks of sharpening rusting skills now came to bear as Dar loosened up and tried some more advanced moves, which she hadn’t bothered with in her earlier matches. Her opponent countered one, then backed off a little, apparently realizing the skill level facing him was higher than he’d expected. He tried a counter, and Dar absolutely nailed him with a block and a throw over her shoulder that made his bones audibly rattle.

The whistle blew and she stepped back, noticing the crowd slowly gathering around the mat, as the other bouts ended. Her name moved up a tier, and with a sense of shock, she realized she was positioned to come in no worse than fourth in the competition.

That was great, wasn’t it? Dar was now aware of the growing crowd, most of them watching the match that just started, between a tall, aggressive redhead and a smaller, blonde haired man whose quick style and fluid motion Dar admired. She concentrated on it and was surprised when a voice invaded her close presence, calling her name. She turned.

“Yes?”

It was the match coordinator, in all her pink glory. “I’m sorry…you’re Roberts?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong?” Dar turned and faced the blonde woman.

“Did I step outside the circle or something?”

“Oh. No, no.” Pinky shook her head. “No. The guy you were supposed to fight next just sprained his ankle.” She made a mark on the sheet. “He forfeited, so you got that one. So you’ve only got the one match left.” She looked up. “Whoever wins this one. So don’t wander off.”

“Sure.” Dar gave her a look. “I was going to see if there were any good nature trails around, but I guess I’ll hold off.”

Pinky looked up at her. “Hah hah.” She turned and left, as Dar merely shook her head.

“What’s up?” Ken came over, having finished his day. “Hey. Third.

Not too damn bad.” He slapped Dar on the back. “John over there knocked me on my butt in the fourth round. So I guess it’s between you and him. He’s gonna beat Rusty.”

Dar almost snorted her water as the words penetrated. “What?”

Ken stared at her. “You didn’t realize? The guy who just conked out was in second place. Whichever one of you wins the next one, gets the trophy.” He almost laughed at Dar’s expression. “C’mon Dar. Don’t look like you’ve been hit by a flying fish, okay? You’ve been kicking everyone’s ass all day long. You’re the talk of the match.”

“THAT LAST ONE thar’s trouble,” Andrew commented, sucking on a straw poking out of his soda pop.

“Yeah?” Kerry had found herself getting excited, as the energy in the Eye of the Storm 55

room rose, and everyone gathered around the ring for what was turning out to be the bout to decide the winner. “Well, Dar’s doing pretty good anyway, right?”

“Sure. Sure. Worst she’ll be is second. But see…I know my kid.”

Andrew rested his forearm on the bench. “She don’t like being anything but first.”

“Wonder where she got that from?” Kerry smiled, but knew he was telling the truth. “Do you think she can beat that guy?”

“Depends.”

“On?” Kerry rested her elbows on her knees, her back aching from the long afternoon sitting on the hard benches.

“How bad she wants to.”

Kerry drummed her fingers on the bench for a moment, then stood up, wincing a little before she carefully stepped down the mini bleachers and made her way through the milling crowd of sweaty, cotton clad people to Dar.