back toward the front door, putting himself between the two men and the sword. He didn’t want to use his gun unless it was necessary. Not only did he not want to kill any of these guys, he also didn’t want the neighbors alerted to the trouble. He didn’t have time to deal with the police.
“You’re a dead man,” the former sword owner threatened.
Damn. Vince was just about fed up with people saying that.
The second guy made a move.
The wrong one.
He dropped like a rock, his nose bleeding profusely.
The ensuing struggle with the last man standing required some time. Precious time. He was determined. He was good.
But Vince was better.
Vince picked up the sword, leaving the owner unconscious on the floor.
He exited through the front door and quickly checked his watch. Eighteen minutes.
Damn.
He double-timed it back to his Harley.
“I’ll take the sword,” Jamal demanded as Vince passed him.
“Like hell.” Vince didn’t slow down. The sword was leverage.
He quickly secured the sword to the bike.
Sixteen minutes.
He sped across town, retracing his route as quickly as he dared.
When he reached the house where Kat was being held, he was off the bike and removing the weapon before Jamal made the turn into the driveway.
With barely one minute to spare, Vince stormed inside, not bothering to knock or to announce himself.
Leva and Will were pacing the living room, both looked startled—and blatantly disappointed—to see him.
Yu stood over Kat, the weapon in his hand aimed directly at her head.
Vince tossed the sword in Yu’s direction. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Yu caught the sword by the jewel-embellished handle. He shoved his 9 mm into its usual resting place, never taking his eyes off the prize sword. “Release her,” he ordered.
Will obliged, releasing Kat and passing her weapon back to her.
Kat stood, checked the .38, then tucked it away. She absently rubbed at her right wrist where the cuff had no doubt chafed it.
Yu smiled at her. “Looks like your friend is in.” He glanced at Vince. “I hope you can keep him in line.”
“Don’t worry,” Kat assured him. “I know how to handle Vince.” She flashed Vince a look that he figured he was better off not trying to interpret, then she turned back to Yu. “There’s just one thing.”
Yu stopped admiring his new toy long enough to focus his full attention in her direction. “And what is that?”
He didn’t have time to prepare for the blow, definitely hadn’t expected it. Kat sucker punched him in the gut.
“Don’t use me in your sick little games again. Next time take my word.”
No one uttered a single syllable. They all wore the same startled expression as Yu. When his look of surprise morphed into a grin of amusement as well as respect, everyone relaxed, including Vince.
Yu gifted her with a little bow. “The game point is yours.”
“Good.” She gave him her back and turned to Vince. “Come with me.”
Not about to refute her declaration that she could keep him in line, Vince followed her up the stairs without hesitation. She led the way to the bathroom.
“Sit down,” she ordered.
It wasn’t until he passed the mirror hanging over the sink that Vince realized the extent of the beating he’d taken. His cheek was a little swollen and his lip was busted. All in all, though, he looked pretty damned good considering the odds had been three to one.
As ordered, he took a seat on the closed toilet lid.
He could relax, at least for the moment. He was in. This mission might just be salvageable, after all.
Kat dampened a washcloth with cold water and pressed it against his cheek. The cold felt great, but her nearness felt even better. She knelt between his knees and dabbed at his bleeding lip.
“You could have been killed,” she scolded softly.
She was right. He didn’t bother arguing.
Vince watched her intent expression, his body reacting to both her proximity and the obvious affection he saw in her eyes. For the hundredth time he wondered how he’d let her get away. And, considering their past, what had made her use him for her Romeo profile? It made no sense at all. Did she still feel something for him—besides anger and bitterness? Or was it simply some sort of payback that he didn’t yet understand?
Cool fingers traced his lower lip, made him tremble inside. She was looking at his mouth now—not with concern but with longing.
How could he let this thing between them happen without some answers? When this was over, and she had her memory back, she’d hate him even more than she already did.
She eased closer, her mouth only inches from his.
He could feel her pull…could feel the temptation of that lush mouth…
But he couldn’t let this happen.
He pulled back, took the cloth from her hand and quickly stood when she sat back on her heels to look up at him in surprise…annoyance…something on that order. He didn’t miss the flicker of hurt on her face as he sidled away from her. Dammit, he was going to hurt her either way.
Feigning interest in the condition of his face, he peered into the mirror over the sink. “Those guys did a hell of a job on me,” he commented offhandedly. “I think this—”
The definitive click of a weapon engaging shut him up.
Kat nudged the tip of the .38’s barrel against his temple. “Okay, big guy,” she said, her tone every bit as lethal as the weapon now aimed at his head. “Just who the hell are you?”
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