Margo said sweetly, “You mean, like those four?”
Kit just looked at her. “Aren’t you going to finish him off?”
From near Margo’s feet, Malcolm muttered into the mat, “Oh, God, don’t encourage her.”
Kit chuckled and nudged him with an unsympathetic toe. “C’mon, Malcolm, get up and do it again. This doesn’t prove she’s any good, it just proves you’ve gotten overconfident.”
Margo huffed and crossed her arms.
Malcolm scraped himself off the mat and stood up, moving a little awkwardly. Kit grinned. “What’s the matter, Malcolm? A little slow on the rebound?”
”You,” Malcolm muttered, “are a pain.”
”Every chance I get.
Malcolm charged without warning. Margo threw up another check kick, but Malcolm stopped short, leaving the kick whistling through empty air. By the time she’d finished executing it, she was turned away from him. Malcolm rushed in gleefully. Kit winced and braced himself for Margo’s wail of protest Her back was toward him as Malcolm rushed forward
Then she astonished them both.
Margo stepped toward Malcolm. When he hit her, Margo brought her elbow straight back with the forearm parallel to floor, fist clenched, palm up. She leaned into it and hit him in the solar plexus. He snapped forward with an ugly sound that caused Kit to grimace in sympathy. Margo dropped as he did, then grabbed him around the neck with both arms and jerked him forward. Poor Malcolm landed dead on his backside with Margo balanced lightly on her feet behind him. She grabbed his hair in her gloved fist and punched him in the base of the skull with her right hand, pulling the punch so that it just popped him.