“Let’s not.”
She notched the arrow, took aim, and shot. He spun out of the way. The arrow glanced off the door with a screech. Damn it, now I’ve dented the Honda’s door.
“I’m beginning to suspect you don’t like me.”
“Really? What gave you that idea, I wonder?”
“You don’t want to kill me. I’m your ticket out of this—”
She fired again.
“—mess. Could you stop shooting at me for a moment?”
“No.” That last one had to have nicked his thigh. She plucked another arrow from the quiver.
He swiped the first arrow off the ground. “I bet you this arrow against the knife you took from me that I will make it onto your porch unharmed.”
There were sixty feet between him and the porch, and she had a full quiver. “I’ll take that bet.”
He grinned. Clearly the man was some sort of deranged lunatic with a death wish. Audrey shot again. The arrow pierced the air, heading straight for the man’s chest. At the last moment he jerked out of the missile’s path with unnatural quickness, almost as if he had a rope attached to his waist and something had yanked him out of the way.
He took two steps forward.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Fire. Miss.
Missed.
Missed.
Missed, God damn it.
Missed again.
He put his left foot onto the first porch step. Panic swelled inside her, a feverish stupefying jitter that threatened to turn off her brain. Audrey stared past him at the line of arrows neatly puncturing his trail.
“My knife,” he said.
“You cheated.” It had to be magic.
“I did no such thing.”
She pointed at the trail with the arrow in her hand. It shook in her hand. “Yes, you did.”
“You are a lousy shot.”
Audrey jerked the bow and fired an arrow point-blank into his chest. The string snapped in her fingers. The arrow went sideways. It was magic.
She pointed the bow at him. “Cheated.”
In her head a tiny voice cried, Run, run away! He could be anyone. He could be the Hand, he could be a California robber baron. He could be a slaver. Run!
For all she knew, Alex had told him that she still had the West Egyptian box. Or worse, her brother had sold her to him, just like he had before. Audrey felt a phantom hand squeeze her throat. She would not be anyone’s punching bag again. Never again.
He stepped onto the porch. “I’m still waiting for my knife.”
She pulled the knife out. The beautiful black blade curved from her hand. “Come and take it if you can.”
“If I can, huh.” The man rolled his eyes and lunged for her.
She sliced across his arm, cutting the heavy fabric of the sweatshirt rolled up at his sleeves. Red stained his sleeve. Audrey reversed, sliced again, quick. Somehow she missed. His fingers clamped her wrist. She rammed her knuckles into his throat. He stumbled back and turned sideways, falling into some sort of fighting stance.
His left hand snaked out, too fast. A punch rocked her shoulder. He punched again, quick combination, left, right, left. She lunged into it, aiming to cut his forearm. If she bled him enough . . .
His fingers clamped her wrist like a steel vise. Audrey swung to punch, but he caught her other arm, stepped forward, and drove her back, tripping her. She knew exactly what he was doing; she just couldn’t stop it. A moment, and he was on top of her, pinning her to the boards.
“Let’s review,” he said. “So far, you Tasered me, tied me to a chair, shot me, cut me, and punched me. Did I miss anything?”
She pushed against him, trying to throw him off, but he outweighed her by at least sixty pounds, and those pounds seemed to be made of steel because he wasn’t budging.
“Have I hurt you in any way? Did I threaten you?”
She tried to kick him, but he clamped her leg with his thigh.
“Audrey, I just want to talk like two civilized people. If I let go, will you gouge my eyes out?”
“Probably.”
His face was too close, and his eyes looked straight into hers. She searched his face for cruelty, anticipating a punch in the gut or a jab in the face, but found none. He was pissed off, but he didn’t have that icy reptilian coldness she’d seen in Alex’s drug dealer.
She was breathing hard, and he was, too. Time to end it before he got any ideas. Audrey jerked her head up and rammed her forehead into his nose.
“Damn it, woman, I said I just wanted to talk.”
The accent broke through his words, and she caught it. “Louisiana.” Oh crap.
“What?”
“You’re from Louisiana. You’re the Hand.”
“I’m from the Mire, in the Edge.” The silver earring in his ear flowed into a single mirror drop. “And I work for the other side.”
She strained, trying to jerk her arms free. “You’re all the same.”
The sound of someone clearing his throat made them both turn. A boy stepped out from behind the tree across the lawn. The stray ray of sun breaking through the cloud cover played on his blond hair. The skateboard punk from the parking lot.
What in the world . . .
The blond boy called out. “I’m terribly sorry, but is there any way we could grab that cage off the porch? We won’t disturb your dalliance.”
Dalliance?
Another boy emerged carrying a fuzzy gray creature by the scruff of its neck. “You can keep making out,” he called out. “We just want the cage. This raccoon is really hard to hold, and she doesn’t like me.”
They had Ling, and they thought that she and this idiot were getting hot and heavy on the porch. “Get off of me, you fool!” Audrey squirmed. “Get off, get off, get off!”
The man let go, and she rolled to her feet. “Let my raccoon go!”
The second boy looked at the man next to her. Audrey glanced at him, too. He was holding his knife. She hadn’t seen him pick it up. The “dashing” smile was back, too.
“Tell him to release my raccoon.”
An evil spark flared in his eyes. “Trade: raccoon for some answers.”