Page 39 of Curse of the Wolf
Harold showed us another photo, the backs of the heads of the men who were sitting in the theater. One was looking toward him and giving the middle finger.
My breath caught. That was one of the faces from Ivan’s security footage. It might be the guy who’d taken my sword,whose hair sample was, at that very second, in a baggie in my pocket.
I looked around the parking lot, as if the sword might be in the back seat of a car the thugs had driven over. Wishful thinking. Besides, they’d come on motorcycles. Several were parked on the cement walkway in front of the theater instead of in legal spots.
“If I had a knife, I would slash their tires to make sure they couldn’t escape.” Or if I’d had asword. I missed that weapon more than I’d expected to, maybe because I was a quarter of the way to competent with a blade, now that I’d had lessons.
“I’ll be happy to take care of that if you ensure there won’t be repercussions to my establishment or myself,” Harold said.
“Do it,” I said. “And blame it on us. We’re about to kick them out.”
I nodded to Duncan, and he smiled agreeably.
Harold looked at me with such appreciation that he had to be seconds away from kissing me. He gave Duncan a similar look.
Duncan must have interpreted it the same way because he backed up, lifted a hand, and pointed at the front door. “They’re that way, you say?”
“First door.” Harold gestured toward it without kissing either of us.
Duncan and I headed for the entrance.
“Since I didn’t bring any weapons, we’re going to have to get furry,” I told him, hoping I could call upon my magic for the second time that evening.
“I expected that.” Duncan removed his jacket as we stepped inside, startling a pimple-faced teenager running a vacuum over the carpet.
The kid was sticking to a corner far from the theater door; he’d probably also had an unpleasant run-in with the thugs.
“I’d better take off my clothes before changing so I don’t lose them, but I also feel we should talk to these guys and give them a chance to leave peacefully before we start biting them.” My outfit had already dodged a bullet that night, and I was determined to keep it. Besides, the clothes cost more than a lot of the other garments in my wardrobe. I could wear them to the real estate meetup at the bowling alley.
“Perhaps you’d like to step into the loo and change, while I deliver an ultimatum to them?” Duncan suggested.
“You don’t care about your clothes surviving a shift?”
“I’m quite fast at shucking them. I’m even wearing trousers with an elastic waistband tonight.” Duncan slid a thumb into them and stretched them sideways to demonstrate.
“Sexy.”
“The man makes the clothes, isn’t that the saying?”
“Not quite.”
Since the lobby was empty, with the owner busy out front, applying box cutters to tires, and the vacuum-wielder navigating down a hallway, I removed my shoes, socks, jacket, and phone without going into the bathroom. I loosened a few other items, Duncan doing the same beside me.
“I’ll talk to them,” I said. “I’m the supposed crime fighter for Shoreline now.”
I didn’t care about getting credit for stopping criminals, but Duncan would likely move on one day—because he adored travel, I told myself,notbecause he would die within weeks. I had to establish myself as the person the criminal element feared to cross. They needed to know that I could and would protect the neighborhood.
“Not supposed,” Duncan said. “You undeniably fight crime. And you do it with wondrous aplomb.”
“You didn’t see me knee the brute in the backyard in the balls.”
“Ball-kneeing can be done with aplomb. It’s unfortunate that the house exploding kept me from witnessing your battle. I do enjoy watching you fight.” His words were light and playful, but he gazed at me with pleasure, as if he truly did enjoy that.
My cheeks warmed at his appreciation, and I kissed him on the cheek. “I like watching you fight too. And having you at my side.”
“A most enjoyable place to be, my lady.” He bowed to me, then strode forward and thrust open the door to the theater.
The sound of movie dialogue flowed out, a tense drama scene playing on the large screen. No heads turned in our direction, though I spotted the pack of thugs in prime center seats near the front. The rest of the movie-goers must have left along with the harassed woman that Harold had mentioned. It was a private showing.
