Page 7 of Mortal Heart

“I’m a detective. I detect.” Arkady put her hands on her hips. “Are you done with the twenty questions? Can we get back to important things now?”

“There is nowe, Miss Woodall.” He headed for the rear of the vehicle, car keys in hand. He’d taken them from the driver’s pocket.

She blocked his way and didn’t back down when he almost ran into her. “The hell there’s not,” she hissed. “How do you think that poor girl’s going to react if some big, hulking man dressed like the goddamn Grim Reaper opens that trunk?”

He glanced down at himself. That, he reflected, was a fair point.

Grudgingly, he handed her the keys. “Do you have a vehicle? Can you take her somewhere safe?”

“While you do what?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

Her reaction to him using her own words against her caught him off guard. He’d expected and maybe even wanted an angry response. Instead, she smiled. Not the smirk he’d seen earlier, but a real, genuine smile that made him think he’d somehow just made her whole day. “Oh darlin’, you don’t want to play that game with someone like me,” she said.

Oh, but hedid. And she wanted him to play, too—her tone and smile made that obvious. He felt caught between anger that she’d somehow already figured out how to manipulate him and intrigued as to what she had in mind.

He should just walk away. Instead, he heard himself ask, “What game?”

He hadn’t really expected her to answer—at least, not seriously. But she did. “The game where you devastate me with your superior wit and skill and put me back in my place.” Her smile widened. “That’s not a game you’re going to win, sweet pea.”

The way she looked at him indicated she somehow knew this was just the sort of challenge he liked. Orhadliked, until his imprisonment and sentencing had siphoned away most of his will to exist, much less enjoy that existence.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, I can see you’reswampedwith more interesting offers.” She tossed him back the car keys. “Well, when you’re done feeling sorry for yourself and decide to grow a pair, you know where to find me.” Ruined shirt in hand, she turned on her heel and walked away.

She’s Alice’s business partner. A private investigator. A hunter. Bad, bad news all around.His brain made it clear what he should do.Let her go, it insisted as he watched her stride through the gravel in the direction of a small, dark blue SUV parked near his Harley.Let her go and get back to the job René Richards is paying you to do, you moron.

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” she said over her shoulder. She didn’t stop walking, and she didn’t turn around. “Somebody kicked you in the balls, so you’re going to curl up and cry and let them get away with it. No wonder you ran away from Alice’s house. She’d put her boot up your ass for sulking like this. Big fucking baby.”

He caught up with her before she finished speaking. He couldn’t move nearly as quickly as before his imprisonment, but he still got from Point A to Point B much faster than a human.

“How could someone have kicked me in the balls if I don’t have any?” he asked.

“Touché.” She turned to him. Her smirk was back. “So maybe youdohave balls, but they’re feeling bruised these days and you’re moping about it.” She rested the tip of her index finger against his chest—not quite poking him, but making her point nonetheless. “I’ve taken my share of kicks in the metaphorical balls. We might get knocked down, but we gotta keep getting up, every time. You know why?”

“Why?” To his surprise, he wanted to know her answer.

For the first time, he saw a glint of pain in her hard blue eyes. A blink later, the pain vanished, replaced by the same wry cynicism he’d seen on her face all night. “Because fuck ’em,” she said. “That’s why.”

“Very pithy.” Despite his dark mood, he felt his mouth twitch. “Given your penchant for waxing philosophical, I expected something a bit more profound.”

“Yeah, well, the longer you think about it, the more profound it gets.” She eyed him. “Do you have a line on the people waiting for delivery of that girl in the trunk? Before you ask, I saw Ren knock on the trunk and say something before he and Stimpy went into the bar. And when I walked past, I heard whimpering. I can put two and two together.”

He frowned. How did she manage to constantly make him feel three steps behind? “Ren and Stimpy?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Don’t know their real names and don’t care, but I had to call them something. Well,doyou have a lead? We’re both bored and I don’t know about you, but I feel like kicking some asses.”

He’d never met a woman like this in all his eons of existence. Suddenly her partnership with Alice made more sense. Alice thrived on new challenges and unexpected twists, and Arkady Woodall seemed the embodiment of both.

When he said nothing, she poked his chest hard and added, “Come on. If you were looking for a sign to quit moping, I’m it.”

Irritated, he caught her hand to keep her from poking him again. And that was when it happened. Like a bolt of lightning, the vision seared him from the inside out.

Bloody, battered, and breathing hard, Arkady crouched with her back against the wall, clutching a knife that dripped thick, dark blood. Something had ripped her clothes to shreds and her feet were bare.

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