“I recognize Taka, though I don’t know who the other one is. They could help me take Leon and his pals, but I don’t want to risk any of you getting hurt again.” He hauled Dylan up from the chair. “Come on, cowboy. You first.”
He was right – the red-haired man had moved into the restaurant, refusing to understand Leon’s protests, and the other man followed, pushing Leon in front of him.
“Now,” MacGowan said, and shoved Dylan out onto the narrow porch roof. “You next, Beth.”
He’d stopped calling her Sister Beth. She wasn’t sure why. After their night together he knew better than anyone how close to celibate she was, and if anything she’d been afraid he’d mock her even more. He’d said nothing in front of Dylan, thank God, and with luck he wouldn’t. It was always possible the man had some sense of decency and discretion. Possible, but not likely.
The tiles felt loose beneath her feet when she followed Dylan, but she moved carefully, even as her flip-flops slid around her feet. When she got home she was going to spend thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars on shoes, and never look at a damned flip-flop again.
Dylan was waiting for her at the far end by the leaning wall and Beth followed him, with MacGowan close on her trail. The drop was about twelve feet to the pavement, and she’d probably break an ankle if he made her jump. There were discarded cardboard boxes nearby, and it was always possible she could hit them if she leapt far enough. She looked at MacGowan but he’d already moved past her, and before she realized what he was doing he’d jumped down, as light as a cat, landing on his feet like a gymnast performing a perfect dismount.
“How the hell did you do that?” she whispered.
“Practice.” He held out his arms. “Jump.”
She didn’t move. Throwing herself into his arms was the last thing on her agenda, probably because it was exactly what she wanted to do so badly. “If you can make it I can.”
Dylan was already sitting on the edge of the roof, his long legs dangling, and in the next moment he was over, landing with a graceless sprawl next to MacGowan, but a moment later he was on his feet, trying to regain his teenaged dignity.
“You’ve got a bad hand.” MacGowan was managing to control his temper, but just barely. “Get the fuck down here. I’ll catch you.”
She ignored him, sitting on the roof where Dylan had, preparing to leap, but she’d underestimated MacGowan’s determination and his height. His hands clamped around her ankles and he yanked, pulling her off and into his arms.
He staggered beneath her weight but didn’t go down, which annoyed her. He held her for just a second longer than he needed to, though she wasn’t sure whether it was as a punishment or relief, and then he dumped her on her feet.
The tourists were blocking the door and any sight of the escapees, both of them arguing in very bad French spoken with heavy Japanese accents. Beth couldn’t understand a word they were saying, but MacGowan paused, listening intently, then gave a little nod. “The two of you,” he said. “Get in there.”
“There” was a narrow space between the building looming overhead and the restaurant, with barely enough room to stand up.
“Why?”
“So I can help Taka and his friend deal with this little problem and find out exactly what they wanted.” He gave her a shove toward the narrow passageway, but she dug in her heels.
“And what if you don’t happen to succeed? Dylan and I will be perfect targets for them. I think we should get the hell out of here. You’ve done your duty, gotten us to Europe, and …”
He paid no attention, shoving her into the narrow passageway. “My job’s not done yet, and I’m not letting you run out without paying the bounty,” he said. “Besides, it’s too fucking dangerous. Dylan, keep her quiet.”
Dylan sidled into the alleyway in front of her obediently enough. “Dude,” he said. “You sure we’re going to be all right?”
MacGowan actually grinned, the heartless bastard. He was enjoying this, though she wasn’t sure why. Whether it was the chance to push her around, or the adrenaline rush of facing down his captors, but either way she didn’t give a damn. She turned her face away from him, looking down to the end of the passageway, wondering if that small movement was a rat. If he failed he was dead and they’d follow suit, but he wasn’t listening and she was tired of fighting. “Go kill yourself then,” she snapped.
But he was already gone.
She could hear the voices from within the crumbling brick wall, the French unintelligible given the various accents. And then the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle, furniture crashing, and she shivered.
“What’s up with you two?” Dylan asked suddenly.
She’d be so busy concentrating on what was going on beyond the blank wall that it took her a moment to focus. “What?”
“I said what’s up between you and MacGowan? You been bumping uglies?”
“Ewww,” Beth said at the really horrid picture it evoked. “Absolutely not.” At least, not the way Dylan had phrased it.
“Sure looks like it. He looks at you like he’s starving and you’re a six-course banquet. Dude, he wants you bad. Don’t you know that?”
“No, I don’t.” Did he? After the debacle of last night?
“And you’re just as bad. Like you want to jump his bones if you could only figure out how to do it. Trust me, all you have to do is ask.”