Concern that the assassin’s anger at a plan gone wrong could turn the assassin’s lethal focus from her to Eddie converted the tremble of fear to fired up roiling rage. Kelly clenched the bat and prepared for battle.

The trail of Daeva’s silent stealth reflected in the polished chrome and custom paint finish of BMCs parked in a line parallel to where she stood. Roles reversed as Kelly plotted an intercept course with an assassin and her deadly blade. The hunted changed the rules of the game to her advantage.

Jim caught the reflected ripple of movement in the periphery of his squinted vision. He rounded the bumper of a snot green Kia and silently pursued the shadow. Sweat through his soiled white shirt wiped a clean imprint in the dusty door of the all-wheel drive pickup truck he leaned against. He waited, senses on full alert, and watched the shadow bend, twist, turn and change direction. Weapon ready, he rolled to his right, glanced through the windshield and into the almond-shaped eyes of a black-haired demon and the sharp tip of the hunter’s dagger. The vision vanished before Jim could react. The low growl of her laughter echoed in the man-made, hard surface chamber.

His back against the truck, Jim shifted his weight. Another shadow appeared at his left. This one carried a big stick. “What the hell,” he whispered. A faint whoosh of sultry breeze on the hairs at the nape of his neck spun him around. The phantom’s laugh rang out behind him. Jim surfaced over the dorsal fin on the trunk of a vintage sedan and braced his shooting arm to fire.

The batter swung for the fences. Daeva and her blade dropped to the cement in a clatter and slump of surrender. Kelly let the bat fall from her hands. It rolled to a stop against the sedan’s rear tire. “Game over,” she said to the unconscious defeated. “You lose.”