Page 5 of Walking the Edge

“Not until you leave.” Her hand loosened, and she accidentally flashed cleavage. “We can pretend I’m seeing you out. Southern manners and all.”

That accent of hers belonged more to California than to any southern state, but his tightening groin didn’t give a shit. Nor did his resolve. He lowered his voice to a purr. “You really should go back to the patio.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Nothing over there but the garbage cans,” Hal called a moment before his silhouette appeared at the opposite end of the dark alley.

Mitch leaned close to her ear. “If you don’t want Hal searching your house, you need to stop him.”

“But, I…”

“You got him?” Hal started toward them.

“Wait.” Mitch waved his brother back and raised his eyebrows at the female in his way. “We’re coming out.”

She huffed out a breath but spun around. In the lighted patio, Hal glanced from her to Mitch, his mouth turning down. “You missed him.”

For now. The beauty crossed her arms, but Mitch shooed her away. “We’re finished. Go inside.”

He caught his brother’s arm and jerked his head toward the shrubs and banana trees. “The skip might be lurking.”

Hal waded through one side of the garden, Mitch, the other. Their twin beams hit a high brick wall without revealing a soul. Some Quarter landlords embedded broken bottles atop property walls to keep out thieves, but Mitch didn’t see any here. He stowed his light and backtracked to the patio. “Hold the trees away, Hal.”

“I still want an apology.” The female wildcat pounced.

“I told you to go inside.” Mitch judged the height of the barrier. A running leap took him to the top, and he hauled himself up.

“What are you doing?” The woman’s pale face appeared in the shadowed shrubs below.

“Fulfilling your deepest desires.” Mitch smirked. “Like the Southern gentleman I am.”

A multistory masonry house faced the parallel street on the other side. A swimming pool stretched past the converted servants’ quarters on one side of the patio. A soft snick drew his attention to the half-glassed door on the rear of the main house. With no side alleys here, this must serve as the street exit for the rear tenants. Or fugitives coming over this wall.

“I’m going over,” Mitch said to Hal. “Meet me around the block.”

Mitch dropped to the ground and raced along the pool. The doorknob turned easily, and within seconds he’d covered the inside hallway and stepped onto the street. Running footsteps faded into the night, and a flash of blond hair disappeared around a corner. Mitch reached the same intersection seconds later only to find empty sidewalks stretching in three directions.

Hal panted to a stop beside him, then pointed toward the street on the right. “I’ll go this way. You go straight.”

Mitch held up a hand. “We need to stick together, protect each other’s back.”

“Who’s been a bounty hunter longer?” Hal crossed his arms. “Huh?”

“You have,” Mitch said, but tightness pinched his chest.

“Let’s each circle a block and meet back here.” Hal moved off in his chosen direction.

Mitch crept down his deserted street, sweeping a glance along both sides. He jogged another block without any better success. He brought his gun up, rounded the corner onto Hal’s street, and halted. Halfway down, a dark shape sprawled on the sidewalk.

The thing inside clawed up his throat. Mitch raced down the block and dropped beside his brother. “What happened?”

Hal lay face up, a hand pressed to his shoulder. His eyes cracked open. “He got past the vest.”

Mitch removed Hal’s bloody hand and pressed his clean handkerchief to the wound. Hal inhaled with a rasp. “How… How bad is it?”

Hal needed to go to the hospital. Yesterday. Mitch switched hands on the compress and fumbled for his cell. “You’ll definitely need stitches.”

This was on him. Didn’t matter that Hal had separated them. If Mitch had done his job in the first place, they would already have Les Hurley on his way back to jail.

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