Cold Moon Rising Part 11

I pulled the phone away from my face to stare at in disbelief, like I could make him see my expression if I just looked hard enough. "Afraid I'll faint at the sight of blood? Uh, h.e.l.lo? Besides, I've got Charles's rental. I presume he's going to need it if I'm wrong about the vision."

He paused and then sighed. "Fine. Bring the car back. Maybe you can help figure out what's happening. But leave Sue there where it's safe."

I couldn't disagree, but apparently Sue did. She walked up, hand on hip, and motioned for the receiver. She could hear him talking from across the room? That was new. I shrugged and handed her the plastic handset and backed away.

"Lucas, it's Sue. Look, I appreciate the thought, but really . . . I'll be fine. I've been spending a lot of time at the Wolven facilities. I've gotten pretty jaded about blood and gore."

That raised my brows. She had? I didn't mind her tagging along, since it wouldn't do any good to say no anyway-I mean, where would she go? But maybe it's not just since the ritual that things had changed. I wasn't kidding about being gone on four a.s.signments in a row. I hadn't been home for more than a few hours in nearly three months, and have been trying to keep Sue out of my head during the interim. Maybe I needed to sit down with her and find out what she'd been up to on this end that hadn't made it into the nightly conversations.

His voice sounded tired and determined. But so was she-the chilled metal scent was stronger than her perfume. "I really think-"

"Don't, Lucas. Don't think. I'm growing up, okay? It's a shame it took twenty-six years to do it, but I'm finally becoming an adult. s.h.i.+t happens. People die. People I love die. I can't fix it, I can't help it. All I can do is move on and do my d.a.m.nedest to be happy. Isn't that the lesson you wanted me to learn?" She didn't wait for a reply, and I was amazed and proud of her for it. I found myself with arms crossed over my chest, staring at her with brows raised and a smile on my face. "So, yeah. I'm coming up. Whether or not Tony does. There'll be things to do whether Ahmad is there or not. 'Cause like it or not, that's what I do now-clean up messy things that n.o.body else wants to, because they have to get done. So see you soon. Bye." Sue hung up on him and it made me laugh. She wasn't shaking, she wasn't near tears, nor angry-so my laugh just made her turn her head as she was putting down the phone. "What?"

I raised my hands symbolically and clapped lightly. "Attagirl. But I probably ought to ask if you're planning on telling me to go to h.e.l.l soon too?"

She looked at the phone, and the air was suddenly filled with the flurry of conflicting scents that confusion brings. "I didn't tell him to go to h.e.l.l."

I took the two steps over to her and touched her face lightly. "Not in so many words, but yeah . . . you did. It's okay, and even though I admit I'm surprised, it's been needed. I probably deserve to have it said to me too. I've been keeping you out of the s.h.i.+t I do, and haven't even bothered to ask whether you want to be kept out." Whatever was waiting at the clinic could wait a little longer. I motioned toward the bed and sat down, reaching for her hand to have her do the same. "So, what do you want? I'd like to think that my life will be settling down soon, but I honestly don't see that happening. If anything, it's going to get busier. I'm afraid you're going to wind up alone more than I'd like, but short of flipping off the council and disa-d.a.m.n-pearing to parts unknown, we don't have many choices. If this ritual really did work and you're going to stay healthy, what does Sue, Version Two-point-oh, want out of life?"

She looked a little taken aback. "Out of life? Wow. I can honestly say I haven't thought that far out. But I'm a little surprised that you're surprised. How could I not grow up? It was like throwing a pet dog into the wild to live with wolves. It learns to survive or it dies. I've been really grateful to all the people I've met at Wolven. They're really good people, Tony. Dedicated and hardworking, fearless and tireless . . . a lot like you. They're just amazing. It's hard to be afraid of anything when they're around. Serial killers?

No problem. Terrorist threats? Piece of cake. Feral new turns? All in a day's work. Yeah, they come back b.l.o.o.d.y and exhausted, but they still manage to train and do paperwork. There really isn't much bookkeeping to do on a daily basis, you know. It's all on the computer and once I started to sort out all the inconsistencies and fix them . . . well, that took about two weeks. It's been ten months, so I've had to figure out other things to do. I know Lucas just took me on as a kindness, but I've really been trying to be useful, so I've sort of turned into an all-around secretary. Do you know how many reports I've had to Wite-Out splatters of blood and run them through the copier just so you could read them . . . including yours? How could I not learn from people like that?"

I listened, really listened to her ramble, because I really hadn't thought much about the other half of the business, or what she's been doing. Of course there have to be copies, and of course they have to be semilegible. The council members are demanding SOBs, which must mean she'd been busy.

She smiled and squeezed my hand. Her scent was a blend of everything good in the world and it made me return the squeeze. "Lelya in Chicago has been great as a sounding board, but Tahira has really been the terrific one to get to know. Even though she came over from blood, she was nearly an adult when it happened. So she started out a lot like me-human and clueless. Plus, we both wound up marrying tough guys who don't always talk about what they're going through. One night when we were alone and I was sorting out a bunch of files Lucas brought by, we sat down and started going through the cases you guys have worked on. It wasn't hard to read between the lines and combine the careful language with the little bits you've told me on the phone, and the bits when I got sucked inside you during a crisis. I've started to figure out what you're going through out there." She paused for a long moment and looked at her lap, her fingers nibbling on themselves, then tapping on her leg, her scent filled with indecision. I realized it wasn't that she didn't know what to say, but wasn't sure how I would react to it.

"Go ahead," I urged, because I really did want to hear it. Behind her, the sun was starting to light the horizon. The mountain backdrop and flickering streetlamps reminded me of our first conversation, in another hotel room far from here. But neither of us were the same people anymore, and I was thinking that was a good thing.

"I'd like to start doing fieldwork. I really think I'd like that."

Okay, I wasn't expecting that. "Fieldwork. Like as a Wolven agent?" She nodded and I had to draw in a sharp breath. I raised a hand to rest against my mouth and chin while I thought and let out the breath slowly. "Wow. Um. I can't imagine that anyone would approve that, even if I did. h.e.l.l, they don't even like me working on cases because I'm a three-day. You're full human. You'd get eaten for lunch out there, sweetheart . . . literally."

She wasn't deterred though. Her scent wasn't disappointed or even afraid, still just determined. I couldn't decide what I thought about it. The wolf part of me was terrified, because she was my mate and could die. The old mobster in me was proud of her for asking, but still chauvinistic enough to want to say no . . . like Carmine would say no if Linda wanted to start running part of the business. Qualified or not.

And . . . like he'd probably said no when she wanted to order the hit. I'd have to talk to him. I knew that now.

Her voice stayed calm and sure. Apparently, she'd worked out her arguments long ago, waiting for just the right time to bring it up. "But not every case has needed a heavy hand, or even magic. A lot of them got solved with just information and the person turned themselves in voluntarily."

I held up an amending index finger, because she was only seeing half the picture. "Not quite. The information is often gotten because of the threat of the heavy hand that's doing the asking. And the person turned themself in to avoid being tracked and slaughtered."

"Not every time."

I nodded in agreement. "True. But you talk about the agents returning b.l.o.o.d.y. That's the norm, not the exception, hon. How many scars do I have now compared with when we met? The being-cut-up-withclaws-and-teeth c.r.a.p never used to happen when I was working for Camine. Now it's nearly every day. How much time do you want to spend in the E.R.? 'Cause a healer's not always available and you won't heal for s.h.i.+t."

Her face shut down and I didn't have to be hooked to her mind to know she was frustrated. It's the opposite of determined, so it smells of hot metal, rather than cold. Sort of like wiring burning inside the walls. "So you're saying no."

I waved my hands in front of my face, starting to get a little p.i.s.sed now. "Whoa, whoa. Don't make me out to be the villain in this play. I didn't say any such thing. I'm only stating the facts. If they don't play nice with the script you've been writing in your head, that's not my fault. I'd love to have you excited about something. h.e.l.l, if you want to be a policewoman, go for it. But Wolven? That's like showing up for the Olympics before your first amateur match."

Now her voice turned sarcastic and biting, but underneath it was the scent of sorrow, so I decided to listen really close. "I'm dead, remember? n.o.body hires dead people. Don't you think I know I can't afford to have my background or fingerprints checked? Everything I've ever trained for is in finance, and they do intensive background checks. Every single company. Maybe Lucas fixed everything in my background, maybe not. But I don't dare check, and I would be too afraid to ask him if he did it right. Y'know?"

c.r.a.p. The reality of that hit me like a blow to the head. It wasn't just that I was stopped from doing my illegal job, she couldn't even apply for a legitimate one without going through the meat grinder of the post9/11 system. "s.h.i.+t. Look, Sue. I haven't even been thinking about your side of it and I should have. You're not like Linda and I should know that."

She sighed and leaned back against the headboard with a sad expression. "Sometimes I wish I could be like her. She can spend a full week just shopping and buying things, or lazing around the pool reading book after book. If she wants to start a new business, poof! It's opened, no expense spared and no questions asked by officials at any level. If it folds, then it's, 'Oh well. No great loss.' " She shook her head. "I just can't do that. I have to do something, and I want it to have meaning. Wolven has meaning. It's important . . . agents stop wars and keep people safe. I want to do that, and I think I could."

I was willing to listen, against my better judgment. Maybe this was a midlife crisis, or a near-death experience. Risk taking was pretty common after both. But to deny it now would only make it worse later, and this time I might be able to control enough that she wouldn't die. "Okay, tell you what. Let's go have breakfast downstairs and you can tell me what you have in mind. If there's any possibility of making it work, I'll try to come up with some buzz words that might win you a friend or two on the council to sponsor the idea."

She smiled and leaned forward, all tangerines and cinnamon spice that blended nicely with the vanilla perfume. "I knew you'd listen. Tahira said you'd scream and rant at me and say it was a stupid idea, but that's not you."

No. It wasn't me. Screaming and ranting come out of fear-whether fear of losing control over another person, or fear of loss. I wasn't afraid of either one, so there was no need to rant. I didn't want to control Sue, and I've been struggling with my fear of losing her for a year. Nothing new there. A light brush of lips sealed the deal, but it wasn't enough. I slid my hand behind her head and pulled her mouth against mine. Scent and taste rolled into one and I was lost in her body and mind. The door opened, if it had ever truly closed, and it was like our very first kiss was rediscovered. Soft lips, strong jaw, delicate, probing tongue.

She tasted minty and sweet and . . . salty. Yeah, salted cashews, or maybe walnuts. But where had she found walnuts in the hotel?

So sweet . . . like the honey from the bees that swarmed through the gardens behind the palace. Her venom danced across my tongue like bubbles from champagne, and made me just as giddy.

I pulled back from the kiss and stared into her eyes, those too-blue eyes, the color of the finest lapis stones from the quarries near her home. What had possessed me to pull her into my arms and kiss her?

It was as though I couldn't control my own actions. While there was n.o.body to see us on the sofa in the back of the custom plane, Nasil would most definitely smell any arousal. And how could I not be aroused?

"Rimush." The whispered name struck my chest like a knife, but not for the reason she probably expected.

"Rimush is dead, Tuli. He died long ago. For better or worse, I am Ahmad. I chose my name when I chose my path. There is no going back."

She ran a slow fingernail across my neck, then farther and farther down the open neck of my s.h.i.+rt. When had it become unb.u.t.toned to nearly my waist? I couldn't help the s.h.i.+ver that raced over my skin from the tingle of her magic, far stronger than I'd remembered it. I'd never expected her to be alive after so many centuries. She was a lesser princess, with no particular magic to make her a valuable commodity to her father the king. She should be dead by now.

But she's not. She's right here with me. And n.o.body is here. I pulled back my hand from where it rested just underneath the fold of her breast. They were still firm and taut under the tight green tank top, with no indication she'd ever nursed a child. Had my father never allowed her even that?

"Ahmad." She tried out the name. "It's a good name, I suppose. But I don't understand why you gave up your true name, your home, your . . . throne. You just disappeared, and we believed you dead for a very long time." A pause and then she shook her head. "Ahmad al-Narmer. It makes no sense. How can you be from a man, not even your father, instead of a place? King Narmer was a fine ruler, but he was no Sargon of Akede. Your very name is a slap in the face of your family."

"Yes," I replied, my voice once again dripped with disdain for the man and his ideals. "It is. It was intended to be. I didn't just disappear, Tuli. I was forced out, stripped of my t.i.tle, of my name-banished forever for bringing shame to his throne."

Now she looked truly confused and reared back in her seat. I'd forgotten how her emotions showed on her face so easily, while I'd schooled myself for centuries to show nothing at all. "Shame? But you were an icon of the people. The hero of the northern war who turned back the invaders and brought us new lands. You were the emissary to the great meeting of s.h.i.+fters . . . even learning the languages so you could speak on behalf of the snakes. You brought glory to all Akede by securing your father a seat on the first council of leaders."

All true, which is why it had been such a shock to me. "My shame had little to do with my own actions, I'm afraid. No. It was a small bobcat that was my undoing. We were to be a marriage between two great houses-the snakes and the lions. The girl was a half-breed, but a powerful seer and Father wanted her talents for his great mission. But she refused the offer, slaughtered the escort I provided for her, shunned the gifts of gold and slaves, and fled. I was forced to return home a failure. He cast me out quietly, in the dark of night, with a price on my head if I returned."

Tuli was open-mouthed, which was almost charming. The shock in her scent told me this truly was news to her. I should be surprised that Father had never told anyone. But I wasn't. Just like I wasn't surprised .

. . now that Josette Monier, the cat in question, had refused me. She'd seen Father's goals and treachery even back then. I knew that now. But I couldn't imagine her abilities back then. I still hate her, will always hate her for the life she stole from me. But I couldn't blame her. Not really.

Tuli's voice made my muscles twitch and I felt a swelling of something like pride inside at the intensity of her outrage. "She refused you? A prince who might someday rule an empire that stretched across most of Europe? You should have killed her for that insult!"

My own chuckle caught us both by surprise. "Oh, I've tried. Trust me. She's not so easily killed. As I say, she's a seer with powerful foresight. It's difficult to sneak up on her, and there's no defeating her in a fair fight. The lion in her is strong."

She was silent for a moment and then asked quietly, "So Narmer took you in? Is that why you chose his name as your own?"

I felt my head nodding and realized my hand had crept over to where it was covering hers. The olive skin was so very soft and I couldn't help but trace my thumb over the pulse point of her wrist the tattoo of the order feeling slightly cooler than her skin. There was a frantic flutter as I did. And those blue eyes . . . they'd haunted me for so many years after I fled. "Rather than be publicly whipped and chased through the streets of cities and villages, I left Akede as Father demanded. He had that power back then, if you remember, with Nasil at his side to support his edicts among the populace. I wandered for a long time in the desert, a nomad filled with self-loathing and shame. But Narmer took me in when I finally asked to be allowed to settle-offered me a post as an adviser even though I was a man without a country, without a name. Frankly, I'd fully expected Father to send runners ahead of me to announce my banishment to the neighboring empires so I'd be forced to wander forever. But I wasn't even worth that much time and trouble. I was simply forgotten, left to fend on my own. We didn't see or speak for close to a thousand years, while I lived and served in the house of another. Narmer and his brethren taught me things that Father had no concept of-tolerance, patience, and leaders.h.i.+p without the fear of the people. The man I became was because of him, not Sargon. I couldn't hold my seat on the council now without the skills I learned from a foreign king. While some of the deceit and violence that were my father's legacy have also served me, I honor Narmer instead. So in a way, you weren't lied to. Rimush is dead. He has been for a very long time." It was strange how little the recitation bothered me. I'd fully expected to feel anger and shame roil up again, even after this long. But it didn't. Maybe it was the satisfaction of knowing I'd had a hand in his death that had also exorcized the demons that had chased me.

I stared out the window of the high-tech jet, watching the blinking lights far below fade back to the blackness that had existed since the dawn of time.

We were quiet for a moment, each thinking our own thoughts, so it surprised me when Tuli lifted my hand and pressed it to her lips. There were tears falling from her face to land on my skin and I suddenly couldn't think what to say. All I could do was turn my hand in her grip to raise her chin and look into her eyes with a smile that said she didn't need to pity or feel sorrow for me. She reached up with her other hand to stroke the side of my face, and when she pulled me forward into another kiss, I let her.

With age has come experience, so each careful touch was meant to bring intense sensation. My magic could be feather or whip, and I really didn't care whether Nasil heard Tuli's moans as I refamiliarized myself with the taste of her skin, the curves of her body, and the delight of her cries. I wasn't quite willing to go so far as to remove my clothes and bed her right here, but a great many pleasures can be had without revealing skin.

I could tell she was fighting her desire. She also hadn't planned on going this far, but something about letting me proceed was both terrifying and deeply arousing to her. When I unbuckled her seat belt, the muscles in her stomach twitched under the camouflage trousers and her fingers convulsed in my hair. Pus.h.i.+ng her backward into the soft leather cus.h.i.+ons and tracing my hand heavily along her muscled thigh caused a whimper and made her come up for air from the kiss.

"Ahmad, I can't."

That widened my eyes and forced me to ask, "Why? Are you married? Betrothed to someone?"

She shook her head and bit at her bottom lip while staring carefully at my neck. But her protests weren't quite enough to keep her from sliding her hand across my chest under the s.h.i.+rt and flicking my nipple with her fingernail. I responded in kind and felt her shudder.

I dipped my mouth to her ear and let out a slow, rolling hiss that brought a new tightness to her nipple, slowly being tormented between my thumb and forefinger. "Tell me, Tuli. What would happen if I took you again after all these years?"

"It's . . . it's not something I can talk about right now. I just can't."

I waited for a long moment, but there was no elaboration, so apparently that was all the answer I was going to get. She fought through her attraction until all that was left was confusion and embarra.s.sment. I rose up off her, reluctantly letting my hand move away from her silken skin. "Very well. I've no need to force myself on a woman. If the feelings we once shared are gone, there's nothing more to say."

She opened her mouth to reply, a startled look on her face. But then she closed her mouth again, tightlipped to avoid speaking whatever had tried to rise to the surface.

I moved away from her, b.u.t.toning my s.h.i.+rt as I did. "Perhaps it's time I checked on Nasil. He'll probably want a break from flying soon. I'll leave . . ."

. . . leave, Tony? I shook my head, pulling myself away from what Ahmad had been doing to the woman in the plane. Can you hear me? Don't we have to leave?

I pressed fists to my eyes, trying to scrub away the image of the plane floating in front of me. It had at least frozen in place, so I wasn't hearing and seeing them.

When I could finally open my eyes back to my own reality, Sue was lying under me on the bed, looking rather disheveled and hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand said another half hour had flown by. I had a raging hard-on, and she looked like I'd been doing to her what Ahmad had been doing to Tuli. Just great. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it," I muttered. "I'm getting sick and f.u.c.king tired of being trapped in someone else's wet dreams."

I rolled off her and raised a finger and then made shooing motions to make her leave while I tried to think of things that would get rid of this erection without having another round of s.e.x. Not that I minded the thought of s.e.x again, but I had to beat this without giving in to it every time. My only consolation was knowing that Ahmad was probably going through the same thing at thirty thousand feet.

Fortunately, the usual things worked to bring my libido to a standstill: mental images of my high school gym teacher, a creepy old guy who spent way too much time in the locker room showers watching us. And then there was the horse-faced nun who'd slapped my wrist with a ruler every time I asked a question in Sunday School. Finally was Carmine, slashed and bleeding on the floor of a condo.

Okay, that did it.

Sue had done as I asked. She stayed quiet and left the bed to go comb the tangles out of her hair and touch up her makeup. Once I'd thrown down the rest of the lukewarm coffee from the four-cup maker on the table, I was just about back to normal.

We didn't really talk until we were almost out the door. Then she made a comment, real casual-like, that made me want to pound my head on the wall. "For what it's worth, you're a really good kisser when you're Ahmad."

But a second later, I stopped cold, right in the hallway, and pointed the car key at her chest. I hadn't said his name when I shooed her away. "Why did you say 'Ahmad'? What was I doing while I was kissing you?

Was I talking?" That would be something entirely new, as would Sue being along for the ride into his head. Would that mean she could also see hindsights now when I was doing them?

The question made her freeze, brows raised and mouth open in a small 'O'. She stared at me, and then the floor, and she finally wound up tapping her foot on the carpet, hands on hips. "I don't really know. Let me think about it for a minute."

Fair enough. I turned to walk and she did too. We got in the car, breakfast forgotten, and drove silently until we were nearly at the clinic. Time was ticking by way too fast and I knew Charles wanted me to drive the kid to the airport. I didn't know how many flights there were per day to New Jersey from Denver, but I was betting it wasn't many.

There were a ton of things rolling around in my head, but seeing a narrow cutoff at the edge of the Sazi land made me remember our earlier conversation-before the whole Ahmad-nearly-getting-laid episode. I turned down the road and had to slam on the brakes to avoid a big pothole.

"Where are we going? This isn't the way to the clinic."

I nodded once. "You're right. We have something to do real quick." She stopped talking and grabbed the strap next to the visor when I made an abrupt left to go around a rock big enough to take out the oil pan. The Lexus really wasn't the car for this terrain. Raven had taken me up here in a Jeep. But I needed to see something for myself before I had any talks with Lucas that involved Sue.

Fortunately, it was only another few hundred yards and then we came down a slight hill into a basin where a row of wooden stands faced a hillside. The Wolven agents had to train somewhere, and having a private gun range on the land was a pretty good solution. While I wasn't outfitted as well as I'd like, I did have the Taurus and the Ruger, both of which I had an extra box of ammo for in the trunk. And according to Lucas, there was plenty more at the clinic.

"Ah, gotcha. No problem."

I flicked my gaze toward her as I shut off the engine. "You just intuitive today, or reading my thoughts?"

She shrugged and her scent was pretty much normal. No particular emotion. "Intuitive, I guess. It's a shooting range. We were talking about me becoming an agent. You're an I'll believe it when I see it sort of guy, so I presume you want to see it. And hey, I've been practicing really hard, so I'd sort of like to show off a little."

She would, huh? "Okay, let's see what you've got." I walked her toward the first table in front of the bar and pulled both guns from their holsters . . . one at the small of my back and the other at my ankle. "I'd love to give you earplugs, but you won't get any out in the field in a crisis. Better to know now if you're not going to be able to hear afterward."

I stepped back and waved a hand toward them in invitation. I wanted to see how she'd approach them. Had she been taught proper handling, and by who? Shooting's not about just picking up a gun and pulling the trigger. It's a process. Was she looking down-range to check her target? Did she open the cylinder to check the ammo? Etc., etc. But I didn't want to coach or reprimand. I'd heal if she shot me, and we were next to the clinic if she shot herself. So I leaned back against the nearest pole support and decided to just zip my lip, lock my head to our mental link, and observe.

She took a deep breath and let it out slow, knowing my eyes were watching her every move. Her scent was a blend of fear, determination, and worry, which is a really weird combination-sort of like soggy stir-fry left in the fridge too long. It doesn't smell bad, per se. But it's odd.

It didn't take long to tell me what I needed to know. She picked the guns up with a level of comfort that said she hadn't been bulls.h.i.+tting about practicing. She checked the gun and the ammo, and found an unmarked portion of an old paper target at the fifty-foot line to fire at. The caustic, familiar scent of burned smokeless powder filled the air as she squeezed the trigger. G.o.d, I love that smell. I'd like to say that the noise didn't bother me, but it did. Guns are hideously loud near the full moon. But I managed not to wince.

Her stance as she shot told me she'd been using target loads in her practice sessions. She made a little stutter backward in her steps and stared at the gun like it had bit her. I load my sh.e.l.ls pretty hot, even for hunting rounds. She glanced at me as a question, but I didn't so much as blink. Not accusatory, nor comforting. But when she looked away, I noticed that she'd hit about an inch below the black dot on the target. It wasn't a bad shot, but since I know it's not the gun, it wasn't that great either. Still, it would put down a deer, or a charging wolf at that distance, so I couldn't b.i.t.c.h much. Perfection takes practice .

. . and lots of it.

Still, the second shot, once she'd adjusted her footing and rubbed her hands against her pants to get the feeling back in the palms, wasn't half bad. It moved up closer to the dot, as did the third. "Try the other one."

The Taurus fit her hand pretty well, and it was a .38, so it would be an ideal gun for her. The Ruger was bigger, a .44 Magnum. If she thought my little ankle pop gun was a challenge, let's see what she made of its big brother. Several of of the Wolven agents carry Black-hawks, although most prefer Colts or Sigs.

She stared at the gun for a long moment, and I could tell she knew what she was in for. It was going to hurt. Not a little hurt, like a papercut, but a big hurt, like your skin is being ripped from your bones. The Pachmayr grips are dandy for keeping ahold of the thing when you're wet or bleeding, but those little diamond cuts in the rubber are like freaking razor blades with enough force behind them. But she didn't argue. She nodded once and picked it up, steadied herself, and held it firmly in front of her in a modified Weaver stance. I approved. Good choice for lessening the kick. She squeezed the trigger, meaning she was taught right. Too many new shooters pull the trigger. That tiny motion yanks the whole barrel upward. Not only will you miss the center of the target . . . there's a good chance you'll miss the target altogether.

Fire blazed from the barrel and I couldn't help but smile a little. She very nearly hit the center of the dot, which would take down anything in her way. But her composure was finally lost. She put the gun gingerly back on the table and shook both of her hands, the palms red even from where I was standing.

"Owwww! d.a.m.n it, Tony! What do you have in here?"

I finally stepped forward and picked up the Ruger. "Silver's not heavy enough to go the distance and keep the trajectory, and Wolven uses all silver rounds. So you have to have a lot of powder behind it to get it where you need it to go. It's not perfect, but I tried silver-jacketed and they didn't work worth c.r.a.p. So, we have to make do. I'm not saying you'd have to have this level of round in your own sidearm, but if you have to grab a random gun in a fight, you need to be able to handle it on the fly."

She seemed to take that in. "So in other words, practice with hot loads and then be pleasantly surprised in a crisis?"

I bonked her on the nose with a finger. "Exactamundo, sweetheart. Ever see the movie Chariots of Fire?"

When she nodded, I added, "It's like the guys learning the shotput. They practiced with one way too heavy without realizing it and wound up winning because the regulation shot was lighter."

I tucked both of the guns back in their holsters, reminding myself to reload when we got up to the clinic. I'd probably have to leave them here anyway, since I couldn't take them on the plane. But I'd seen all I needed to. "Nice job, by the way. Every one of those would have put down the target for the count."

"Thanks. But . . . um, before we go, could you-" She motioned toward the target. "You know, I've never actually seen you shoot."

Oh. Well, actually she had, but I wasn't going to remind her that she was in my head during a couple actual jobs, like when I killed a rival boss back home, and a hit man hired to take me out.

Well, heck. If I was going to show off, it should be a show. I dipped my head and sure enough, there was a wad of chewing gum stuck under the table. It's not a perfect glue, but plenty for what I had in mind. A quarter came out of my pocket and I stuck it to the wood, slightly lopsided, but firm. I backed up a dozen paces, until I was actually behind the covered shooting stands, near the car. There were tables and railings in the way and I was pretty sure Lucas would kick my a.s.s if I shot them up. So I'd better not miss. I motioned her to come back to where I was standing. I still had four shots in the Ruger, since I always keep the barrel chamber empty when I'm driving.

Before she could react, I took off running away from the car, parallel to the benches. I then spun and headed back, pulling the gun when I was a dozen feet from the target. I threw myself sideways on the gravel and skidded until I pa.s.sed the target stand. I fired four times in rapid succession, adjusting my aim around the various supports, benches, and metal sheeting as I moved. I was dumping the empties from the chamber as I slid by in front of her feet and then rolled back to standing before I completely stopped. The whole operation took less than five seconds . . . barely enough time for the movements to register in her brain. "That what you wanted to see?"