Alex was upset with her, that was obvious. Well, what had she
expected? That he would smile and pat her on the head and offer his
congratulations? She tried to see it from his viewpoint, but she knew
she couldn't have it both ways, not this time. This was the best
thing. Working for him had become a sore point even before they had
gone to London; he wasn't treating her like he did the other members of
the Net Force team, he was shielding her, and she didn't want that, not
in the work. So, okay, there was going to be an uncomfortable period
while he adjusted to her new job. She didn't like it, but that was how
it seemed to be working out.
In the long run, she kept telling herself, it would be better for them.
They'd be able to relate to each other more like equals, the personal
relationship wouldn't be bogged down in the professional one.
Yeah, but in the long run, we're all dead, aren't we?
So what happens after a couple months of nobody having a good time if
you or Alex get hit by a bus crossing the street? How is that going to
fit in with your 'long run' plan, hmm?
Toni stopped moving and stared into the mirror at the end of the room.
Crap. I really don't need this.
But--what help was there for it? What else could she do? She had to
make a living!
She sighed, went back to her footwork.
A few minutes later, she was aware that the yoga guy had finished his
routine and left, but that he'd been replaced by a trio of other men.
Two of them were in karate uniforms, the third wore dark blue FBI
sweats. One of the karate guys wore a brown cloth belt tied around his
waist to keep his gi shut, the other a black belt. They were watching
her. Watching and smiling. Then the guy in sweats leaned over and
said something to the other two.
Pentjak silat wasn't a flashy art; a lot of what went on in it didn't
look particularly impressive to the uninitiated.
The last time a martial arts player from another style stood here and
watched her practice, he had made the mistake of making some ignorant
remarks out loud. She had been having a bad day when that
happened--not nearly as bad as this one--and she had demonstrated to
the loudmouth that what she was doing was in many ways superior to what
he knew about fighting. It had been a painful lesson for the man.
The lesson she had learned was pretty painful, too.
She didn't want to think about what had happened with--and to--that man
later, but she couldn't avoid it.
Rusty had become her student, then her lover, however briefly, and as a
direct result, he was dead.
Given the day so far, the opportunity to offer a correction to any--or
all--of these three if they spouted off would feel pretty good. It
wasn't part of a self-defense mind-set to entertain such thoughts, but
silat wasn't primarily a self-defense art, it was a fighting art, and
there was a big difference in your level of aggressiveness.
Toni stopped what she was doing and walked toward the trio.
'Afternoon,' she said.
