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  Lynn did as he asked, and Blade moved right up into her back, the feel of him solid and male behind her making the breath catch in her throat and her mouth go dry.

  “Now pretend I'm an assailant—”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “—and that I've come up behind you to grab you —”

  “Okay.”

  “There's a good chance that I will have your hands, wrists or arms pinned and out of commission.”

  He demonstrated, surrounding her and effectively trapping her arms to her sides. Great. She felt every inch of him against her and part of her wanted to melt, to let her knees go weak so that she could lean on him more fully and enjoy the physical contact.

  But the other part of her fought to keep her mind on strategy.

  “So, as your assailant,” he murmured in her ear, “I've effectively removed two of your most powerful weapons, hands and elbows.”

  Forcing herself to concentrate, she said, “But I still have my legs and feet.”

  “And you can easily break the small bones of my feet, no matter which way you're actually facing.”

  “Break? You want me to break bones?”

  “Not mine,” he emphasized. “I was using me as an example. I mean an assailant's. If you're in a life or death situation, you won't have time to be squeamish. You can't let yourself think about it.”

  “Right. But how do I make sure I don't miss?”

  “Let's walk through it. Slowly. No actual violence.”

  Blade was snugged so close his breath feathered the back of her ear. Lynn wanted to tell him to stop, to give her some breathing room, for heaven's sake, but she couldn't humiliate herself like that. She didn't want him to know that he was getting to her. Obviously to him, this was all business, nothing personal.

  He continued, “Bring your knee up as far as you can and then slam it downward. Flex your ankle upward so your heel hits first in a mule kick. Whether you contact the shin or the more vulnerable knee, let your heel slide down your assailant's leg and onto the bones of his foot. Remember to put as much force behind that kick and stomp as you can. Not now, though,” he cautioned. “I simply want you to go through the motions very slowly.”

  “I'll try not to hurt you,” she said wryly.

  Though an actual weapon might be more effective in her case, Lynn thought. At least her waving a gun around might make a potential attacker back off and give her the chance to run and get help.

  Stoically, she attempted the motions Blade described and felt her glutes rub up against his hip. The sensation spread to more tender parts and she bit back a gasp.

  Lord, what torture!

  “Good,” he said approvingly, seemingly unaffected. “Now let's do it again, a little more quickly starting with my approach, but—”

  “I know, hold back.”

  “I just want you to get the idea today.”

  “I'm getting some ideas, all right,” she mumbled, though they had nothing to do with self-defense.

  When Blade approached her from behind and grabbed her, Lynn ignored the renewed sensations that spiraled through her and did everything he'd asked. And even though it was a mock-situation, no force involved, being able to carry through made her feel a bit better.

  “Good,” Blade said, but he still didn't let go.

  Pulse trilling an unfamiliar song, she asked, “What's next?”

  “If you've been lucky enough to do some damage, his grip will loosen and he'll be more vulnerable. You can use your head as a battering ram against your assailant's nose or mouth. Try it, but again, pull your punch.”

  Angling her head back as he'd asked, making contact with his face, she was reminded of her struggle with her real attacker and the crack of his glasses.

  And suddenly, all personal thoughts scattered.

  ... payback time, Evelyn...

  Freezing, she concentrated on the memory fragment in hopes that more would come back to her.

  “Are you okay? Did you hurt something?”

  “What?” Snapping out of the moment, Lynn realized Blade had let go of her. “I-I'm fine. I just had another flash. He told me it was payback time.”

  “Anything else?”

  Stymied, she shook her head. “It keeps coming back to me in tiny bits, like the pieces of a puzzle. Nothing I can get a handle on.”

  “You want to sit?”

  “I want to work off this frustration!” she said, refusing to cave to the fear that was so close now she could taste it. “How many bones in the hand?”

  Blade went through the physiology and then explained that her grabbing a single finger, the pinkie or ring finger, if possible, was most effective. With a sharp motion down and back, she could break the finger. Again, he demanded a walk-through demo without any juice.

  She complied, then said, “This isn't helping.”

  “You don't want to know different ways of defending yourself?”

  “I want action. I want to feel some sense of accomplishment.”

  “I'll need some substantial padding before we make it more real. I was planning to do that next time.”

  “We're done, then?”

  “How about I show you one more,” he said. “Say I don't come up and grab you from behind like before, but I grab onto your wrist like this.”

  He demonstrated.

  “I kick you in the knee? Stomp your foot?”

  “I had something else in mind,” he said. “Pull your arm down and around to break the hold. Then grab my wrist, pull it up and move into me, passing under our arms. When you cross to the other side, jerk my arm down to pull me over.”

  “Sounds interesting.” But equally unsatisfying if she couldn't carry through.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Blade said, “Don't pretend this time. See if you can throw me.”

  A tempting offer. But considering his size, she doubted she could manage it. “Right.”

  “C'mon, Lynn, show me what you're made of,” Blade challenged her. “Start walking and I'll intercept you.”

  Sighing, Lynn did as Blade asked, and when he came up alongside her and grabbed her wrist, she broke the hold, grabbed his wrist and moved into him just the way he'd shown her to do. She went under their raised arms... jerked his arm down... and the next thing she knew, Blade was flipping toward the ground. He slapped his hand on the mat to cushion his fall, somewhat the same way he had in her apartment when she'd accidentally pulled him over.

  She couldn't help herself...

  Taking advantage of his position, she threw her weight against his hip and knocked him over to his back. Continuing the attack, she landed with knees straddling his waist. Adrenaline shot through her.

  And a sense of euphoria that made her laugh. Below her, Blade laughed, too.

  And then their gazes caught and held. The bubbling laughter churned into something deeper, darker, more primal. And if Blade's gaze was any indication, he was feeling the same. Chemistry... she'd never felt it so strongly with any other man, and she was surprised at thinking the feeling was mutual.

  Suddenly self-conscious, Lynn was about to get off Blade when she sensed a presence behind her.

  “Are you two gonna be messing around every time I find you together?”

  It seemed that Detective Stella Jacobek had gotten Blade's message about where to find them.

  ***

  Blade stoically suffered Stella's continuing amusement at a local deli, where they shared a meal, Lynn's suspect list and the new recordings. Every time his old friend glanced his way, though, a knowing grin that had nothing to do with this case and that had everything to do with his personal life feathered her lips.

  Stella took the heat off him for a moment when she turned to Lynn. “I'm surprised that you took a chance going back to the scene of... uh, your office building.”

  “I had protection.”

  Stella grinned at him again. “It seems you two have bonded, and in barely more than a day.”

  Blade noted that Lynn could ha
rdly look at him.

  Hell, he was having trouble looking at Lynn, if for a very different reason. Something had cliqued between them on that mat, but he wasn't supposed to get involved with her. He couldn't get involved with her. That would mean he would have to share his past, and he wasn't ready to do that, especially not with her.

  Of all the women in this city, why did Evelyn Cross suddenly have to be the only one he wanted?

  “Lynn and I want the same thing,” he told Stella.

  “Do you?”

  He gave her a dark look and growled, “Justice and Lynn's future safety.”

  “Uh, right.” She gave Lynn a thorough once-over. “I guess this, um, disguise, is part of the deal.”

  “Who would recognize her?” Blade said agreeably.

  “What did you do?” Stella asked Lynn directly, “study fashion magazines to get this look?”

  When Blade answered, “Something like that,” before Lynn could bring up Cass, Stella gave him an odd look.

  Having finished her sandwich, she returned to scrutinizing the data sheets. “One of your colleagues mentioned Victor Churchill as a man who always found a way to reduce his enemies. He meant doing business. Another said Johnny Rincon scared her to death.”

  “You mean Susan Matthews,” Lynn said. “She was talking to me outside the courtroom the day his and Carla's divorce was finalized. He called Susan a not-so-nice name and told her to get lost.”

  Stella looked to him. “Did you tell Lynn about Johnny?”

  “I gave her a thumbnail.”

  “He's scum,” the detective warned Lynn. “Dangerous. I wouldn't put it past him to do this to you.”

  Neither would Blade. That's why he planned on paying the old neighborhood a visit that afternoon. He wanted to learn for himself what Johnny Rincon was up to.

  “Did you listen to the recording I sent you the other night?” Lynn asked Stella. “Could that be his voice?”

  “I did listen. I'm sorry, Lynn, but I can't say that I recognized the voice. Keep in mind it wasn't much to go on and the offender was whispering and it's been years since I've run into Johnny. I did pass it on to the lab, though, to see if there are any distinguishing background noises that could clue us in to his location.”

  “I don't see what good that would do unless he was stupid enough to call from home or an office.”

  “You're probably right. But just in case, I want to put a tap on your phones to intercept any future calls.”

  “Fine with me.”

  Stella met Blade's gaze. “What about you? You heard this one. Familiar?”

  “Like you said, he was whispering. And it's been years.”

  “Maybe an expert could tell. Maybe. He'd have to have recordings of them all. Which is a problem unto itself.”

  “Why?” Lynn asked. “If we had recordings of the suspects, an expert could match up the voices.”

  Stella interrupted. “Unless the guy knows he's being recorded, we're violating his civil rights and the recording wouldn't be admissible in court. Not likely any of these guys will sign off on that one.”

  Lynn didn't object, but Blade could see she wanted to. In the end, she let it pass.

  “I have something else you should know, Lynn,” Stella said.

  “Some hours after you left your building with Blade, someone broke in.”

  “Into my apartment?”

  “That's the thing. It seems not. The security guard was knocked out and when he came to, he was trussed up on the office floor. The guys who investigated couldn't come up with anything. The guard had his keys on him. No apartment seemed to be broken into. No one reported anything. We can't figure out what the guy's purpose was.”

  “Then why tell me?”

  “Because I don't believe in coincidences. And because one of the tenant's boyfriends left the building about the right time. The security guard wasn't there, but he thought Tony had taken a break or something. Anyway, he passed another guy going into the elevator and said something didn't seem right to him.”

  “What about a description? Is Tony all right?”

  “Tony's fine. And that's all we have. No description other than the guy was about six feet tall and medium built. He was wearing a billed cap and kept his head down. This morning, I went over there and got the manager to open your apartment for a look-see.

  Everything appeared exactly as it did when I was there the other night. If anyone paid you a visit...” She shrugged.

  Blade sensed Stella's unease about the situation spread to Lynn. See seemed a little off after that.

  They wound up lunch with Stella promising to take a closer look at their list of suspects. All of them. Lynn didn't know Stella the way he did. His old friend hadn't even blinked at the fact that a cop was on that list. He figured she would be harder on a cop than on a civilian if she had reason to believe he was the offender.

  But Blade's mind was back on Johnny Rincon when he brought Lynn home.

  “You didn't let me do all that much physical stuff,” she said, “but I'm exhausted anyway.”

  “Good, have a lie down or you'll never get through work. You should sleep easier tonight.”

  He thought about inviting her to sleep in his room again, but he didn't think she'd appreciate his observation that she had done so the night before. He still slept as he'd been trained to do when in the special forces, with part of his brain on the alert for danger. He hadn't let on that he knew because she'd been very furtive, very protective of her dignity, and he was aware of how important that was to her.

  Lynn said, “I need a shower. Should we flip to see who goes first?”

  “Be my guest. I need to take care of something.”

  “You're leaving me here alone?”

  “Think of this as a safe house. No one would know to look for you here. You do feel safe here, don't you?”

  “With you, yes. When I'm with you, I don't feel like anything could go wrong.”

  He wanted her to feel safe with him, of course. It was the second part that bothered him. He was far from infallible. He was proof of how wrong things could go. If she ever found out what had happened to her sister...

  Before that tragedy, he'd trusted his instincts implicitly. But that one time when it had counted most, his instincts had betrayed him and he'd made a tragic mistake that he never could correct. He would never be able to forget that. He would never be able to trust himself fully again.

  “You won't be gone long, will you?” Lynn asked.

  “A couple of hours.”

  He needed time away from her, time to sort things through, to regain perspective. He needed breathing room so that he didn't compound his mistake.

  Making sure both outside doors were locked, he headed down the stairs and got in his Jeep. No one would find Lynn here, he assured himself, wanting to be certain of this.

  Blade headed out for the south side, remembering the last time he'd seen Johnny Rincon, who still wore the scar he'd given him in high school. The sick bastard had said he liked the way his face looked because it made people fear him.

  The old neighborhood hadn't changed much. People littered the stoops and sidewalks in the summer. No matter the box fans and air conditioners that poked out of apartment windows, the streets were the center of their social lives. Kids played fast and loose with traffic, gangs gathered on corners to discuss “business” and old folks sat on their porches and watched life pass them by.

  The main drag was littered with dollar stores, pawn shops and second hand merchandise, both clothing and furniture. No bookstores or coffee houses or sushi bars here. The neighborhood was a throwback to another time.

  One Blade had done his best to leave behind.

  He hadn't been back since his mother had moved to the suburbs to live with her sister a half-dozen years before, when his younger sister Renata had married. He'd been in the military then. And when he'd left Special Forces more than a year ago, he'd had no desire to return to this place.

  H
e was doing it for Lynn.

  Luckily, he found a parking spot near Skipper's. The tavern set back on a side street corner used to be the hotbed where everyone with a reputation or without a steady job gathered. He hoped that was still the case.

  Entering, he stopped near the door and looked around the smoke-thick room with its pseudo-ship interior. Despite the early hour, the tavern was busy and the owner Skipper, graying with a handlebar mustache and thick sideburns poking out from under his ship captain's cap, still held court at the bar with its big wheel at one end. Around a corner table, several guys played cards. And the click of pool balls echoed from the

  alcove in back. Blade headed in that direction and looked over the participants. Illegal or not, they were playing for money, of course. He wouldn't have expected less.

  “Well, look what the wind blew in. Blade Stone,” Skipper announced from behind the bar.

  The tavern grew hushed and Blade felt the atmosphere charge as all heads turned toward him. He claimed a stool. More than a few of the customers were friends of Johnny's. Or at least they were his associates. In a neighborhood like this, grudges were not soon forgotten. They continued on with a life of their own.

  A cell phone flipped open and the owner turned his back on the table as he made his call, while a thin man sporting a goatee threw down his cards.

  “I fold,” he announced loudly. “You guys are too good for me today.”

  Rising, he sauntered over to the bar and took a stool next to Blade, who couldn't believe his good luck.

  “Big surprise, you showing out of nowhere, Blade. Never thought I'd see your ugly face again.”

  “If I knew you were going to be here, Leroy, I would have stayed away longer.” After returning the insult, Blade grasped the smaller man's hand. “How are you?”

  “Thirsty.”

  “We can fix that.” Blade signaled Skipper to get them two beers. “Same old, same old?”

  “Pretty much. Got me two more kids.”

  “That makes five? Haven't you ever heard of abstinence?

  Leroy laughed and grabbed his beer. “The wife wants to try again for a girl.” He chugged down some of the brew, then asked, “How many you got?”