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Martial training can be had anywhere. Martial arts, weapons, strategies, and tactics are all tools. I mold the person who uses those tools. You will learn levels of self-discipline that you can’t imagine. You will learn strength.”“Ok.”Brian rubbed his belly. “Let’s go have breakfast. After that, I’ll teach you to meditate.”Brett pushed back from the table. “Damn, that was the best cheese omelet I’ve ever had.”“Thanks, I spent two years at a culinary school. Would you like some more coffee?”“No, I’m fine.”“Okay, let’s get started. First, you will never write down any of your lessons.”“What? How am I supposed to learn?”“You will have to develop your memory. I’ll teach you memory techniques that’ll help. Now, meditation is both a key and a tool. It will allow you to unlock your mind and body and use them to their potential. It will also allow you to channel magic.”“Magic?”“Yep, Most of us are drawn to one form of magic or another.”“What type of magic do you do.”“I’m a Bard. I study all. Fine. He could have it his way. I twisted in the seat a little, enough to put one foot against my door and the other foot against his penis. The car jerked to the right suddenly, then straightened up. He grabbed my foot and traced the instep with his thumb. The unexpected pleasure of it made me jerk. His fingers played over the sensitive flesh of my foot all the way to the cabin. The cabin was a perfect sinner’s den. It was very privately situated in the foothills next to a clear mountain lake that appeared so cold that it made my nipples pucker just looking at it. A small dock jutted rather phallicly into the water. The cabin was sparsely furnished with a large fireplace which doubled as a cooking facility. There was an indoor outhouse and a crude veranda with an equally crude porch swing. It had, of all things, a bearskin on the old brass bed. End of amenities. A hunting cabin during the off season. The air was chillier at the higher elevation. I climbed out of the car and looked.
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A.’d. Start fire, rescue, and the chopper. Get a supervisor and the M.E. rolling, too.’ He, too, slammed on his brakes and his patrol car slid to a screaming halt next to the other sheriff’s unit and state patrol car. Both of those cars were empty. Trooper Mavis Dean and the other sheriff’s deputy were out of their cars and running toward the smoking wreck. ‘Come on, Tim,’ Alex Martin said, sticking his head into Tim Jackman’s office. Tim jumped to his feet. ‘What’s up?’ he asked as he started for the door. Alex looked excited. ‘A couple of our guys and the state patrol got in a pursuit with Buddy Dean on the freeway a few minutes ago,’ Alex said as the jogged toward the door of the sheriff’s office. ‘They get him?’ Tim asked. He ran around to the passenger side of the big red V-10 Dodge pickup his boss drove and climbed in. Alex got in, fired up the truck’s huge engine, and roared out of the sheriff’s department parking lot. The siren on the truck began wailing and the flashing.

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