tripped on something metal. So much for grace.
When alert, her senses heightened, picking up breaths and footsteps more easily than most. Both of them glanced west. No noise came from within the tent. The snoring had stopped, or else she was too far away to hear it.
Moving around to the back of the truck bed, she gestured for Eric to follow. Testing the back doors with her fingers, she was surprised to feel them give. They were not locked.
A male cry of pain alerted her. She heard a body hit the ground and the clatter of the plastic-encased camera followed.
“Eric,” she whispered slowly.
Footsteps crunched the dirt. Those were not Eric’s rubber-soled Vans.
Sucking in a breath through her nose, Annja calmed. At times like this, she had nothing to fear because she wasn’t a lone woman without protection.
She swept out her right hand. Tapping into the otherwhere she opened her fingers and closed them about the hilt of her battle sword. Slapping her left hand to the hilt, she prepared to meet whatever swung around the corner of the truck.
13
Bright light flashed, causing Annja’s pupils to constrict and reducing her ability to see in the darkness. She didn’t need to see who held the flashlight. Now that she had marked his position, she swung her arms out wide, twisting at the waist. The blade landed at his throat.
“Drop it,” she demanded. The flashlight beam wobbled and landed on the ground. “What’s in the other hand, too.”
The clatter of a pistol barrel hit the ground. The man was big; she had to look up to feel his breath on her face. Salty anxiety wafted from him.
“Who are you?” he growled in a British accent similar to Slater’s.
“I could ask the same. Anyone else out here tonight?” She pressed the blade into his flesh. It hadn’t cut, but she could change that quick enough.
“Hey!” His knuckles hit the truck bed behind him as he raised his hands in placation. “Watch it!”
“Bring the volume down. Or are you alerting your buddies?” Annja maintained a keen sense for her surroundings, especially any footsteps approaching from behind.
“I’m the only bloke on security tonight.”
“No one else? The tents are empty?”
“Yes, they all leave at nightfall.”
“I thought I heard someone snoring in the main tent.”
“I’m the only one. Trust me, duck.”
That would never happen. Annja twisted the blade to press the flat of it under his jaw, prompting him to lift his chin. “What did you do to my man?”
“Tranq dart,” he said. “It will knock him out for a couple hours.”
“Eric?” she called.
She heard a groan.
“You must have missed,” she said to the security guard. “Step aside.”
She followed his careful sideways steps with the blade of her sword, wedging it firmly against his neck. When he stood against the open sky his silhouette, imposing as it was, showed her he was barrel-shaped and probably more brawn than physically agile. That could either work to his advantage or, if she was quick, to hers.
Bending and performing a sinuous move, she snapped up the dart gun from the ground with her left hand. That moment of inattention got her a boot to the side of her shoulder. Her body collided with the rear truck tire. Yet she maintained her hold on both the gun and sword.
The security guard ran around to the other side of the truck.
Scrambling to her feet, Annja skipped over Eric’s fallen body. “Be right back. Stay there.”
“My leg,” he said, and groaned.
Stopping to listen, she heard heels scuff across rubble. Annja tracked the man to the truck cab. He could hop in and drive away, but not on her watch.
She dashed around the front of the truck and slashed her sword across his thigh as he took the first step up into the truck. With a yelp, he released his grip on the steering wheel and landed on the ground, arms splayed.
Pinioning him with the sword tip directly over his heart, Annja loomed over him. With her other hand she teased
When alert, her senses heightened, picking up breaths and footsteps more easily than most. Both of them glanced west. No noise came from within the tent. The snoring had stopped, or else she was too far away to hear it.
Moving around to the back of the truck bed, she gestured for Eric to follow. Testing the back doors with her fingers, she was surprised to feel them give. They were not locked.
A male cry of pain alerted her. She heard a body hit the ground and the clatter of the plastic-encased camera followed.
“Eric,” she whispered slowly.
Footsteps crunched the dirt. Those were not Eric’s rubber-soled Vans.
Sucking in a breath through her nose, Annja calmed. At times like this, she had nothing to fear because she wasn’t a lone woman without protection.
She swept out her right hand. Tapping into the otherwhere she opened her fingers and closed them about the hilt of her battle sword. Slapping her left hand to the hilt, she prepared to meet whatever swung around the corner of the truck.
13
Bright light flashed, causing Annja’s pupils to constrict and reducing her ability to see in the darkness. She didn’t need to see who held the flashlight. Now that she had marked his position, she swung her arms out wide, twisting at the waist. The blade landed at his throat.
“Drop it,” she demanded. The flashlight beam wobbled and landed on the ground. “What’s in the other hand, too.”
The clatter of a pistol barrel hit the ground. The man was big; she had to look up to feel his breath on her face. Salty anxiety wafted from him.
“Who are you?” he growled in a British accent similar to Slater’s.
“I could ask the same. Anyone else out here tonight?” She pressed the blade into his flesh. It hadn’t cut, but she could change that quick enough.
“Hey!” His knuckles hit the truck bed behind him as he raised his hands in placation. “Watch it!”
“Bring the volume down. Or are you alerting your buddies?” Annja maintained a keen sense for her surroundings, especially any footsteps approaching from behind.
“I’m the only bloke on security tonight.”
“No one else? The tents are empty?”
“Yes, they all leave at nightfall.”
“I thought I heard someone snoring in the main tent.”
“I’m the only one. Trust me, duck.”
That would never happen. Annja twisted the blade to press the flat of it under his jaw, prompting him to lift his chin. “What did you do to my man?”
“Tranq dart,” he said. “It will knock him out for a couple hours.”
“Eric?” she called.
She heard a groan.
“You must have missed,” she said to the security guard. “Step aside.”
She followed his careful sideways steps with the blade of her sword, wedging it firmly against his neck. When he stood against the open sky his silhouette, imposing as it was, showed her he was barrel-shaped and probably more brawn than physically agile. That could either work to his advantage or, if she was quick, to hers.
Bending and performing a sinuous move, she snapped up the dart gun from the ground with her left hand. That moment of inattention got her a boot to the side of her shoulder. Her body collided with the rear truck tire. Yet she maintained her hold on both the gun and sword.
The security guard ran around to the other side of the truck.
Scrambling to her feet, Annja skipped over Eric’s fallen body. “Be right back. Stay there.”
“My leg,” he said, and groaned.
Stopping to listen, she heard heels scuff across rubble. Annja tracked the man to the truck cab. He could hop in and drive away, but not on her watch.
She dashed around the front of the truck and slashed her sword across his thigh as he took the first step up into the truck. With a yelp, he released his grip on the steering wheel and landed on the ground, arms splayed.
Pinioning him with the sword tip directly over his heart, Annja loomed over him. With her other hand she teased
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