Page 118 of Walking the Edge

“I’ve never worn one, but I can imagine.” Was this her? Speaking so naturally? With adrenaline zooming from her toes to her heart to her fingers like a horse on a racetrack? Sweat tickled into her eyes. She couldn’t lift her hands without knocking against the gun which would likely go off, so she blinked. “I’m sweating too.”

A car engine rumbled closer before shutting off. Her heart leaped. Kurt and Jack must be here. A door slammed. Laughing voices approached. Her relief withered. Mitch’s brothers wouldn’t be making this much noise. They could still be miles away.

Escape! Now. Paul will be distracted.

The fence at her back had to be three feet over her head. The scent of cut grass hung heavily in the air, suggesting a lawn behind the hedge. If she could get over. Ha-ha. She’d never make it without getting shot.

But she had a gun!

“They’re getting out and walking this way.” Paul snarled at her. “If you say anything, I’ll blow your brains out.”

“Then you’ll really have some explaining to do.”

“Shut up.” Paul shoved her against the fence and stood in front of her, nodding to the occupants of the car walking toward them.

This might be the only time she could get her pistol out unnoticed, but she had to make sure she didn’t jostle Paul. A shrug sent the strap of her pack slipping down her arm. She grabbed for the handle and slid a hand inside the open zipper. Her fingers brushed the barrel of her gun.

A couple of guys her age passed. “You all going to the parade?”

Paul crushed her into the fence, pinning her hand inside the pack. She managed to move her fingers to the pistol grip while Paul exchanged pleasantries. The two men continued on, and she waited for Paul to step forward. When he did, she’d withdraw her pistol. One, two…

He whipped around and grabbed the bag from her. “What’s this?” He pulled out her gun. “Naughty, naughty.”

She winced, her heart shrinking.

With his aim still centered on her chest, he stepped off the curb and tossed her gun through an open sewer grate. “Tell me where your brother is.” His dangerously low tone sent her pulse skidding. He stepped closer, got right in her face. “Now.”

“How did—” The words froze in her throat. What was she doing? Paul couldn’t know she planned to meet Les today.

Jack said you had a mouth. Use it. Buy time. Before Charlie returns. She inhaled a deep breath and plunged. “I was just coming to meet you.”

Paul sneered at her.

Act normal. “Cripes, Paul, what is wrong with you?”

“Cut the joking.” His mouth thinned to a knife blade. Any tighter and he’d be able to cut cake. “Tell me how to find your brother. You talked to him yesterday.”

She stared at him. Paul had been watching her office, creeping her out with the same chills that had stopped her in her tracks on her way to her ghost tour. “You followed me a week ago in the Quarter.”

“You’re right. I wanted you out of the way when we deep-sixed your brother. Only he wasn’t at your place.”

“You knew I had a tour to lead that night.”

He tapped the end of the silencer against her temple. “You’re a smart cookie.”

“I’m not a cookie.” Her insides balled like an armadillo defending itself. She bent down for her satchel.

A loafer-shod foot kicked the bag down the sidewalk. “Leave it.”

She looped her arms over Kurt’s vest. Kurt. Please get here before Charlie comes back. “If you didn’t want me involved, why did you torch my house?”

“Not my fault.” Paul’s mouth turned down. “The situation changed. I couldn’t do anything else to force you out.”

He smirked. “You know, like hunters who send in bird dogs to flush the ducks.”

She definitely felt like a sitting duck. Ready to be picked off.

“You realize how much danger I ran going back to your place?”

---