She wasn't sure what nationality he did look like. Dark hair, honey-colored eyes - those she remembered very well - Caucasian features, but there was something else in there. Some Native blood, maybe? Whatever it was, he had an interesting face. Handsome. Really handsome. He used it well, too. He probably thought his smile was dashing.
Moron.
For a moment, when he sat there and listened to her with that smile on his face, she almost thought he bought her naive Georgia peach act. She even pulled out her best "sweet tea" Southern for the occasion. But no. God alone knew what Alex had told him.
"That sonovabitch." She slapped the wheel with the heel of her hand. "That damn bastard." It wasn't enough he had screwed up her childhood. He kept screwing up her adult life, too. She'd moved across the bloody continent to escape her family. Wasn't far enough.
The Honda jumped over the roots and popped out into the driveway of her house. Audrey shut off the engine and jumped out. Her getaway bag waited in the closet, already packed. It was always packed. She ran across the lawn to the front door, unlocked it, and ducked inside.
"Ling!"
She hoped Denis would buy her cold killer act. Either way, her life here was over, but extra time would be a great thing right about now. Even if he didn't, it would take him at least a few minutes to break free. He didn't seem the type to call for help. He'd want to get out all by himself, except that she made sure the zip ties on his hands were nice and snug. Eventually, he'd call for help, then there would be explanations, delays, and so on. By the time he was on her trail again, she would be long gone.
Audrey yanked the getaway bag out of the closet and pulled the zipper. "Ling!"
Money in a Ziploc bag, clothes, camping kit in another Ziploc bag: matches, Band-Aids, painkillers, wound disinfectant, antibiotic ointment.
"Ling the Merciless! Where are you?"
No answer. Where had that raccoon gotten off to? They didn't have time to waste.
Audrey threw the bag out onto the porch, grabbed Ling's carrier out of the bedroom, set it on the porch, added two full five-gallon gas cans - the less she stopped in places with people and cameras, the better - and went to grab the bow from the bedroom. The crossbow was already in the car, securely hidden under the tarp. She had briefly considered taking it out that morning, not sure if she would be expected to chauffeur Johanna around. She didn't want to answer awkward questions if the older woman had glanced into the backseat, but her paranoia had won, and she'd kept the crossbow where it always was.
Awkward questions. Ha!
Audrey swiped the bow and quiver from the shelf and marched onto the porch.
"Ling, I swear, if you don't appear this instant - "
A familiar figure stood by the car. Denis.
Audrey planted the arm of the bow into the porch boards and strung it in one swift movement. How the hell . . .
"Leave, or I will kill you."
He gave her a bright predatory grin. "Now, you know, I can't do that."
She notched the arrow and let it loose. The arrow sliced through the air with a long whine and buried itself at the man's feet.
"A warning shot. Just one. That's all you get."
He spread his arms. "Audrey, let's talk."
"Let's not."
She notched the arrow, took aim, and shot. He spun out of the way. The arrow glanced off the door with a screech. Damn it, now I've dented the Honda's door.
"I'm beginning to suspect you don't like me."
"Really? What gave you that idea, I wonder?"
"You don't want to kill me. I'm your ticket out of this - "
She fired again.
" - mess. Could you stop shooting at me for a moment?"
"No." That last one had to have nicked his thigh. She plucked another arrow from the quiver.
He swiped the first arrow off the ground. "I bet you this arrow against the knife you took from me that I will make it onto your porch unharmed."
There were sixty feet between him and the porch, and she had a full quiver. "I'll take that bet."
He grinned. Clearly the man was some sort of deranged lunatic with a death wish. Audrey shot again. The arrow pierced the air, heading straight for the man's chest. At the last moment he jerked out of the missile's path with unnatural quickness, almost as if he had a rope attached to his waist and something had yanked him out of the way.
He took two steps forward.
"Oh no, you don't."
Fire. Miss.
Missed.
Missed.
Missed, God damn it.
Missed again.
He put his left foot onto the first porch step. Panic swelled inside her, a feverish stupefying jitter that threatened to turn off her brain. Audrey stared past him at the line of arrows neatly puncturing his trail.
"My knife," he said.
"You cheated." It had to be magic.
"I did no such thing."
She pointed at the trail with the arrow in her hand. It shook in her hand. "Yes, you did."
"You are a lousy shot."
Audrey jerked the bow and fired an arrow point-blank into his chest. The string snapped in her fingers. The arrow went sideways. It was magic.
She pointed the bow at him. "Cheated."
In her head a tiny voice cried, Run, run away! He could be anyone. He could be the Hand, he could be a California robber baron. He could be a slaver. Run!
For all she knew, Alex had told him that she still had the West Egyptian box. Or worse, her brother had sold her to him, just like he had before. Audrey felt a phantom hand squeeze her throat. She would not be anyone's punching bag again. Never again.
He stepped onto the porch. "I'm still waiting for my knife."
She pulled the knife out. The beautiful black blade curved from her hand. "Come and take it if you can."
"If I can, huh." The man rolled his eyes and lunged for her.
She sliced across his arm, cutting the heavy fabric of the sweatshirt rolled up at his sleeves. Red stained his sleeve. Audrey reversed, sliced again, quick. Somehow she missed. His fingers clamped her wrist. She rammed her knuckles into his throat. He stumbled back and turned sideways, falling into some sort of fighting stance.
His left hand snaked out, too fast. A punch rocked her shoulder. He punched again, quick combination, left, right, left. She lunged into it, aiming to cut his forearm. If she bled him enough . . .
His fingers clamped her wrist like a steel vise. Audrey swung to punch, but he caught her other arm, stepped forward, and drove her back, tripping her. She knew exactly what he was doing; she just couldn't stop it. A moment, and he was on top of her, pinning her to the boards.