backward to avoid the connection.
Her opponent kicked out a leg and connected with the side of her knee. Pain vibrated up her thigh and down her shin, but she didn’t buckle. Leaning forward, she bent to avoid a return swing from the man, and coming up at his side, she turned and clawed her fingers down the attacker’s face, gripping the black mask. The mask did not give way, but she used it to manipulate him. Annja used the momentum to hoist him from his feet. She tossed the guy aside, and he rolled away, coming up onto his feet.
He immediately charged, head bent and aiming for her torso. An intense tobacco scent permeated the air. Annja swung a fist that was expertly blocked with a high forearm. She kicked up a knee and hinged out her leg, catching him at the jaw with her boot. He huffed out a groan, then toppled backward against a wall.
Using his brief incapacitation, Annja punched him in the kidney. He was still bent over to breathe through the blows, so she caught his cheek with her elbow. Swinging an uppercut toward his face, she smashed her fist into his nose. Blood bled over much of the mask.
“I just wanted a sandwich,” she muttered. “You, signore, have spoiled my appetite.”
Gripping him by the wrist, she swung him around. A foot jammed against the back of his knee buckled both legs, and she was able to slam his body to the ground. Kneeing him in the spine to pin him down, she rotated his arm at the shoulder, wrenching it backward to bring on the pain. His shout indicated extreme displeasure.
“Who are you and who do you work for?” she asked.
He swore at her in Italian.
So Annja switched to Italian, demanding the name of his employer. With a brutal twist of the arm, tweaking the muscles at his shoulder, she forced out a few bits of information from his tightly clenched jaws. His employer sought the lost Leonardo treasure. Her attacker had been ordered to divert her from the dive.
“So you could dive for it?”
“I do not even swim!”
“So there are others already searching?”
“I don’t know. I do not go in the water. I don’t know any details.”
“What about Scout Roberts?” she asked. Because shouldn’t both she and Roberts be on this nameless thug’s hit list?
“I do not have that name,” the man said.
“The other man I’m diving with? You were sent only to attack me?”
“Yes, the woman archaeologist with the long hair and pretty face.”
Flattery would not gain him any favor. He struggled and managed to twist his body over, screaming as Annja wrenched his arm out of the socket. It had been because of his move that she’d been able to do such a thing. Stupid man.
Releasing his arm and stepping back, Annja watched the man drag himself up to sit against the wall, clutching his injured arm. A dislocated shoulder was a nightmare; she knew that from experience. He spat at her and cursed at her in Italian.
“Originality always impresses me. Not. I don’t believe you don’t know the name of your employer.”
Rising against the wall, he again spat at her. Annja had come to expect no manners from thugs, but this was completely uncalled for. She stepped back, hand to hip. The man staggered off, and she let him leave. Wasn’t as if she would get anything else from him.
And when you let the sheep go, they usually returned to the flock.
Tailing the man, Annja passed the sandwich shop. It was dark; must have closed for the night. She should have expected as much. Now she was angry and hungry.
She followed him through dark alleys, over two city bridges and finally to a gondola parked a block away from the canal where she had been diving. He didn’t get on the gondola; instead he exchanged words with the gondolier. They spoke so rapidly, and in low tones, that she couldn’t make out any of it from her position two houses away.
A peek around the corner of the building where she was seeking cover and she spied the gondolier looking in her direction. He made her and
Her opponent kicked out a leg and connected with the side of her knee. Pain vibrated up her thigh and down her shin, but she didn’t buckle. Leaning forward, she bent to avoid a return swing from the man, and coming up at his side, she turned and clawed her fingers down the attacker’s face, gripping the black mask. The mask did not give way, but she used it to manipulate him. Annja used the momentum to hoist him from his feet. She tossed the guy aside, and he rolled away, coming up onto his feet.
He immediately charged, head bent and aiming for her torso. An intense tobacco scent permeated the air. Annja swung a fist that was expertly blocked with a high forearm. She kicked up a knee and hinged out her leg, catching him at the jaw with her boot. He huffed out a groan, then toppled backward against a wall.
Using his brief incapacitation, Annja punched him in the kidney. He was still bent over to breathe through the blows, so she caught his cheek with her elbow. Swinging an uppercut toward his face, she smashed her fist into his nose. Blood bled over much of the mask.
“I just wanted a sandwich,” she muttered. “You, signore, have spoiled my appetite.”
Gripping him by the wrist, she swung him around. A foot jammed against the back of his knee buckled both legs, and she was able to slam his body to the ground. Kneeing him in the spine to pin him down, she rotated his arm at the shoulder, wrenching it backward to bring on the pain. His shout indicated extreme displeasure.
“Who are you and who do you work for?” she asked.
He swore at her in Italian.
So Annja switched to Italian, demanding the name of his employer. With a brutal twist of the arm, tweaking the muscles at his shoulder, she forced out a few bits of information from his tightly clenched jaws. His employer sought the lost Leonardo treasure. Her attacker had been ordered to divert her from the dive.
“So you could dive for it?”
“I do not even swim!”
“So there are others already searching?”
“I don’t know. I do not go in the water. I don’t know any details.”
“What about Scout Roberts?” she asked. Because shouldn’t both she and Roberts be on this nameless thug’s hit list?
“I do not have that name,” the man said.
“The other man I’m diving with? You were sent only to attack me?”
“Yes, the woman archaeologist with the long hair and pretty face.”
Flattery would not gain him any favor. He struggled and managed to twist his body over, screaming as Annja wrenched his arm out of the socket. It had been because of his move that she’d been able to do such a thing. Stupid man.
Releasing his arm and stepping back, Annja watched the man drag himself up to sit against the wall, clutching his injured arm. A dislocated shoulder was a nightmare; she knew that from experience. He spat at her and cursed at her in Italian.
“Originality always impresses me. Not. I don’t believe you don’t know the name of your employer.”
Rising against the wall, he again spat at her. Annja had come to expect no manners from thugs, but this was completely uncalled for. She stepped back, hand to hip. The man staggered off, and she let him leave. Wasn’t as if she would get anything else from him.
And when you let the sheep go, they usually returned to the flock.
Tailing the man, Annja passed the sandwich shop. It was dark; must have closed for the night. She should have expected as much. Now she was angry and hungry.
She followed him through dark alleys, over two city bridges and finally to a gondola parked a block away from the canal where she had been diving. He didn’t get on the gondola; instead he exchanged words with the gondolier. They spoke so rapidly, and in low tones, that she couldn’t make out any of it from her position two houses away.
A peek around the corner of the building where she was seeking cover and she spied the gondolier looking in her direction. He made her and
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