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years. That's when I took up target shooting and karate. I went to see Death Wish twenty-seven times. After a while karate seemed too tame, so I went into jujitsu, the full-contact stuff. I had grand ideas of becoming the next Chuck Norris. But then I got my bell rung in a tournament. Shortly after that, I started taking classes at U of M and now I take out my frustrations in the gym or on the shooting range." |
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I sure can pick 'em! Kyna thought. Charles Bronson or Chuck Norrisoh boy! He's sure no Bryan . . . |
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Then again, Cyrus was there and Bryan . . . Who the hell knew where Bryan was? Kyna cut her eyes to Cyrus's boyish face, watching the way his eyes moved, always alert, his fingers always moving like they were tingling from lack of circulation. He wasn't really bad-lookingif you liked the type. He was just so . . . rough. |
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When they reached the Lincoln, Cyrus stood on the sidewalk, looking both ways while Kyna put the case and the bag of cash in the trunk. And since she was tired of thinking about Bryan and damned tired of the necklace rubbing her neck, she took it off and tossed it into the trunk too. |
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"Wait!" the Dark Man snapped. "I see her." |
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He had been pacing the floor in his hotel suite, rubbing the strands of auburn hair between his fingers and silently cursing the inadequacy of his new amulet. |
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The goateed man and his bald companion quickly sat up in their chairs. |
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"Where?" the goateed man asked. |
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"Ah! Damnation!" the Dark Man hissed. |
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The goateed man glanced at his bald friend but knew better than to comment. |
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"I . . . I don't understand," the goateed man said. "How could she just" |
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The Dark man unleashed his icy glare on his apprentice. "You dare" |
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