A man stepped out of the shadows, holstering a weapon. “Time to go, little girl,” he said calmly. His face was wickedly handsome, his body lethal. A dark, fathomless eye riveted hers, the other was covered with a black eye patch. As if hypnotized, she was unable to react. Lifting her like a sack of potatoes, he carried her to the unmarked building. A medical team met them at the door.
“Is she injured?”
“No.””You’ll get that weapon, or you can forget about me following anyone.”
Stevens stared into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. Decision flickered across his stony face. “Okay.” He paused, staring unashamedly at her. “Dammit, Barbara. They could kill me for the thoughts I’m having.”
“Can’t kill a man on his thoughts, Tab.”
“This is Wercha. They can kill me for farting in public.”
It might have been intended as a joke, but he…
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