Page 73 of What Doesn't Kill Her

“Okay, then,” she agreed. She glanced at Max.

Interesting. When she sparred with Nils Brooks, Max hated it. He hated everything about her and Nils. But with Zone, he watched them both with an affectionate half smile. Probably he thought Zone wasn’t attractive?

ZONE (FIRST OR LAST NAME UNKNOWN):

MALE. ETHNICITY: BROWN (HISPANIC?) AND/OR CAUCASIAN/TANNED. 6'1", 160 LBS, SHAGGY BLACK HAIR HANGING BELOW THE BASEBALL HAT HE WORE EVEN INSIDE (BALDING?), LONG MASSIVE CURLY BLACK BEARD; RESEMBLES AN OLD TESTAMENT PROPHET. GREEN EYES, BLACK LASHES, DISTORTED BEHIND HEAVY-FRAMED BLACK GLASSES. FACIAL STRUCTURE UNKNOWN. DEDUCE SCARRING. HERMIT. AURA OF POWER, INTELLIGENCE, KNOWLEDGE. EASILY IRRITATED BY HUMAN CONTACT.

No, Zone was definitely attractive, if only for the mystery he exuded.

She asked, “What are you two looking at?”

“It’s the radar for all submarines in the western Pacific,” Zone said.

“No, it’s not. It picks up life forms around the lookout.” She met Zone’s gaze again. “I heard you.”

“Itusedto be a radar screen for... Oh, to hell with you.” He stomped away and started rummaging through the cupboard over the miniature stove top and incongruously large dishwasher. He saw her watching him and said, “What are you looking at? I’m not going to wash dishes by hand.”

“I didn’t say a thing,” Kellen pointed out.

Max chuckled, that nice low laughter that made her feel warm in all places south, then guilty for being so easily distracted from a very serious and deadly situation.

Zone got out three mugs. “Coffee?” He didn’t wait for an answer but poured the mugs full, rinsed out the coffeepot and set it up again. He muttered, “Only thing I miss about civilization is espresso.”

“Espresso machines aren’t expensive.” She finished the apple, tossed the core in the compost bin and accepted the coffee. She took a sip and amended that to, “Espresso machines aren’tterriblyexpensive.”

“Thanks for that!” Zone said.

She studied the screen. “When I look at this, I see a mile perimeter around the lookout, and I see life forms. Animals, right?”

Zone muttered something rude.

She figured she’d get used to that. She put the coffee cup down on the tiny countertop. “You must be Canadian,” she said to Zone.

He grinned evilly. “How did you guess?”

“Because you don’t look Turkish.” To Max she said, “Only the Turks and the Canadians make coffee that strong.”

“A few Venetians, too.” Max sipped. “I’ve got an aunt who makes coffee that will keep you awake for days.”

She pointed at the screen. “I can see creatures prowling around. Coyotes? Wildcats of some kind? Congregating around in the area where the battle took place.”

“No living humans are out there,” Max said.

She glanced at Rae, still sleeping hard. The child had been through enough hell. She didn’t need to hear them talking about danger and death. Rae shouldn’t know about death and pain at all.

But she did. She did.

“What happened to them? There were four shooters—three men and the man in charge. I shot two of them, wounded them badly and knocked one unconscious, but none of them were dead, and I left the goddess for them.”

“As a diversion,” Max said.

She nodded. “They were after us, Rae and me. I was carrying her. We got into the canyon, into the fog. I heard a rifle shot. I sent her away and passed out. Easy pickings for them.” She dug her hands into the robe’s wide pockets. “Where did they go? How did they not kill me? Why didn’t they take the head?”

“Good questions,” Zone said. “Nils called, wanted me to search for you. I said no.”

“Who says gallantry is dead?” Kellen asked.

Obviously, Zone didn’t give a crap about his lack of gallantry. “I heard a rifle shot, too, then a bunch of pistol shots, then more rifle shots. I was headed to the lookout to get in out of the firefight before I was a casualty.” He made no apology for running away.

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