Her Son's Hero. Vicki Essex

to attract visitors for the quaint boutique shopping, gourmet and country home cooking—not to mention the scenic waterside view.

      Dom slowed to a walk and pulled his hood down to cool off. The sun felt great on his head and shoulders and he took a minute to drink in the clean air and listen to the birds. Gaily colored banners advertising the Salmon River Arts Fair flapped from old-fashioned iron lampposts. A hardware store on the corner, a church, a dry cleaner and an electronics repair shop showed the thriving community would continue to flourish even after the tourists left. The smell of fresh-baked pastries wafted down the street. Dom’s stomach growled, but he ignored it—the last thing he needed was to be tempted by empty calories.

      Most shops hadn’t opened yet, but Dom could see people heading out of one building. It was eight o’clock, which, if Mako Miwa still adhered to his rigorous schedule, meant his first class would just be finishing.

      The familiar and comforting scent of rubber mats and sweat hit Dom as he entered the Five Elements Gym and Dojo. A couple students were speaking with Mako, so Dom slipped off his running shoes and hoodie, stuffing them into one of the cubbies provided for students and visitors. He approached the mat, bowed, then knelt, waiting for his old teacher, his sensei, to finish. When the students left, Mako turned to him, frowning. Dom placed his palms on the mat in front of him and touched his forehead nearly to the floor, bowing to the man who’d taught him almost everything he knew about fighting and about being an honorable person. “Sensei.”

      Mako Miwa knelt and bowed back, then bestowed a smile upon his former pupil. Except for a few extra lines, his old master hadn’t aged a day. “Domo-san. Welcome.”

      “Thank you, Sensei.”

      Formalities over, Mako broke into a wide grin and embraced him, slapping his back. They fell into small talk, catching up on common acquaintances, and discussed how the dojo in Salmon River had been doing.

      “Not bad,” was his teacher’s only remark, though Dom could see an infusion of funds wouldn’t hurt. Duct tape held some of the training pads together, the ceiling tiles were water-stained and a large crack in one of the mirrored walls had been hastily repaired with clear packing tape. It was a far cry from the facilities the renowned sensei had owned in New Orleans. But Mako Miwa had decided after Hurricane Katrina that the gods were trying to tell him something, and he’d moved his dojo here to Virginia. It made sense, Dom supposed, since the Five Elements’ sister dojo, Four Winds, was in Richmond.

      “UFF still treating you well?” Mako asked.

      Dom grimaced, unable to answer.

      “Not so well,” his teacher concluded. He gestured for Dom to follow him into his office at the back of the dojo.

      Sunlight slanted in through the dirty window behind the old desk, washing the tired-looking room in gold light. The fake-wood panel walls bowed with age, and a three-year-old calendar curled from a nail. Mako Miwa had never been much for aesthetics, but the man’s cool serenity and martial arts skills more than made up for the ghastly decor.

      The karate master went to a counter where an ancient coffeemaker full of dark tea sat. Dom remembered that tea well—it tasted like floor varnish. “I heard about your fight with Bruno DiMartino,” the old man said as he poured. “How is he doing?”

      “Still in a coma.” Dom rubbed his chin, and his hand shook a little as he said it.

      “You know it was not your fault.”

      People said that a lot to him these days. Martial artists who competed knew there were risks, knew safety could never be guaranteed despite the rules, the protective gear, the skill level and the precautions taken by competitors and judges.

      “It was an accident,” his sensei went on.

      “I have a hard time believing that.” Dom closed his eyes briefly. All he remembered was the blood, the sickening wobble of Bruno’s neck as Dom’s fist smashed the side of his head—

      He shut the awful memory out.

      “So, what brings you here, Domo-san?”

      “I need you to retrain me.”

      The karate master made a dismissive gesture and turned away. “You’ve already learned all I have to teach.”

      Dom seriously doubted that. “After DiMartino, I lost three exhibition matches, Sensei. I need to figure out what’s wrong. Why I lost against three rookies.” The humiliation stung deeply. He’d been 15-0 for wins-losses until that first bewildering defeat. The blemish on his once-perfect record represented more than a simple lack of nerve or decline in skill—three consecutive losses meant his stats went down. And his sponsors didn’t want to back a loser.

      “You already know why you lost.” Mako’s dark eyes studied him closely. “Doubt clouds your mind and your heart. Doubt and fear.”

      “I’m not afraid, Sensei.”

      “Not for yourself, perhaps, but for your opponents—” he nodded definitively, sharply “—yes. You feel pity for your adversaries. You do not think they are capable of defending themselves. This is not the way of the warrior, my friend.”

      A long breath hissed out between Dom’s teeth. Mako was right, of course. Dom had been pulling his punches, hesitating too long before striking. He’d left himself open to his opponents’ attacks.

      But he didn’t know what to do about it.

      “Tell me what I must do to clear my mind, Sensei. I will do anything you ask.”

      “Anything?” The older man chuckled. “Does winning mean so much to you?”

      Dom thought about the UFF welterweight championship belt, the symbol of everything he’d worked toward since he was an angry young punk, looking for a fight. He’d traversed a long, hard road to get where he was today. “It does.”

      Mako skewered him with a long, assessing glare. The smile dropped away from his face. “I will not be easy on you,” he warned.

      “You were never easy on anyone, Sensei.”

      “You will not complain or question what I make you do?”

      “All I want is to get back in the cage and win the belt.”

      “If that is all you want…very well.” He stood abruptly. “We begin now.”

      And then a look of pure mischief appeared in Mako’s eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

      “I HEAR THERE’S A NEW MAN in town.”

      Fiona looked up as she was paying for her coffee and cinnamon buns in Josie Baby’s Bakery and Café. She seriously needed the break after the rough morning she’d had. The weekend part-timer had called in sick and there was a ton of shelving still to finish.

      Josie “Baby” Banner grinned up at her wickedly. “He moved down the street from you, apparently.” She pushed a stray lock of curly dark hair behind her ear. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”

      Fiona suppressed a smile. The rumor mill in Salmon River was as active as any other. If someone had seen her with Dominic…

      But no, if they had, it would have been all over town by now. When news of Mitch’s crimes had reached Virginia, it had spread like wildfire and burned Fiona to a scandalous crisp.

      “I spoke with him briefly.”

      “Really? What’s he like? Is he cute?”

      Fiona shrugged. She had to admit that Dom was stellar in the body department, with that T-shirt clinging to his sculpted form. He was dangerously sexy in a Vin Diesel kind of way. “I guess, if you like that sort of thing. Sean met him yesterday. He said he’s some kind of fighter.”

      “Ooh, a bruiser.” Josie rubbed her hands together. “I love the rough-and-tumble types. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?”

      “I’m