Frank Adams hit the mat face first with a loud smack as Emily rolled out from where she’d cut him off below the knees.
He rolled onto his back.
Catcalls followed her as she scrambled around and caught a fistful of hair and pulled down toward the mat, keeping him pinned.
Mark could see that Adams’ eyes were watering and he winced in sympathy. He knew she played dirty, had a recent reminder of that when trying to protect his ticklish spot while wrestling in her hospital bed.
Adams didn’t know. At least not until now.
“Doesn’t hurt if you don’t move,” Beale told him.
He reached up a pair of meaty paws.
She pulled down on his hair.
“Impasse?” he managed to croak out.
“Depends. Broken voice box?” She waved her free hand in front of his face.
“Or not?” He lunged up against the pull on
