Free Gabriel's Horn by Alex Archer Page B

bright eyes. “I still wear the scars.”
    “You’re lucky to be alive. Tell me—”
    “No.” Jennifer shook her head to emphasize her answer. “I’ve worked on this since you’ve been gone. I’m not just going to hand it to you and watch you walk away.”
    “It would be better if you did.”
    “We’re not going to live forever. Isn’t that what you used to say?” Jennifer smiled. “But look at you. You haven’t aged a day.”
    “Jennifer—”
    “No. I’m in or I’m gone. That’s the deal.”
    Roux held her gaze for just a moment and saw no compromise there. “All right.”
    “What?” Ling Po stepped in front of him. “You’re just going to leave with this woman?” She made Jennifer’s gender sound like a terminal condition.
    As gallantly as he could, because he never liked to sour an unexplored potential conquest, Roux took Ling Po’s hand in his. He kissed the back of her hand gently.
    “Until we meet again, dear girl.” Roux released her hand and stepped back.
    Ling Po looked as if she was in shock.
    “Beat Connelly for me. I’ll see you when I can.” Roux turned and took Jennifer by the arm and headed down the sweeping staircase.
    His thoughts centered on the painting of the Nephilim and the secrets it hid. He knew he was the most excited he’d been in decades. Except for finding the final piece of Joan’s sword and watching it mend itself in an eye blink in Annja’s hand.
    But he was also afraid.

12
    Annja stared at the armed men on the other side of the limousine’s tinted window. They threatened her with the handguns and machine pistols they held. At least three of the five wore green-scimitar tattoos at their throats. If the others did, the shadows hid them.
    “Come out!” one of them shouted. His voice barely penetrated the muffled confines of the luxury car.
    The driver attempted to reverse and break away, but the second car crashed into the rear of the limousine. The tires spun but couldn’t get any traction.
    “I suppose getting out of this while in the car is out of the question,” Annja said.
    “Yes.” Garin looked irritated.
    “We could stay in the car and call the police.”
    “Until they decided to blow us up or drill holes in the car roof and flood the interior with gasoline.”
    “Aren’t you the pessimist,” Annja said. She couldn’t believe she was as calm as she was, but she’d been in bad situations before. Since claiming Joan’s sword, those situations seemed to come along more often than not.
    “No. It’s what I would do under similar circumstances,” Garin said.
    “It’s a good thing you’re not out there, then.”
    “Yes. But I, much as it grieves me to say so, am not wholly unique.”
    “On the other hand, we might be able to stay in the car long enough for the police to arrive.”
    “That,” Garin said, “would present a whole new set of troubles. I’d rather keep the authorities out of my business. Besides, the Prague police aren’t overly fond of charging into small armies of men armed with assault weapons.”
    “That leaves us with trying to escape,” Annja said.
    One of the men slammed his clenched fist against the tinted window. Hollow booms echoed within the limousine.
    “Get out! Now!” the man ordered.
    “It’s a pity about the dress,” Garin said. “I’d rather hoped you might get to have it as a keepsake. No matter how the evening turned out.”
    “What?” Annja couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. There was no way the evening was going to end up with her doing anything other than going back to her hotel. Alone. And if Garin was so egotistical that he wouldn’t acknowledge that, then she was—
    “Excuse me.” Garin put his hands on her thigh. He gripped the hem of her dress and tore it up to her hip.
    Immediately, Annja slapped him. The open-handed blow landed hard enough to split his lower lip.
    Garin released the dress and slid back out of reach. Anger darkened his face. “You couldn’t move in