Something moved in the shadows.
“Guards.” Neve pointed to the two men. “Those are the boss’s goons. Marsh Men.”
I frowned. “Marsh Men?”
“People say they came from the lake, but I don’t know if it’s true.” Neve indicated a guard roughly twenty feet away. “I’ll take that one.” She crept forward, soundless and lethal. Stepping from the shadows, she called, “Yoo-hoo!”
The Marsh Man turned in surpri
se, but Neve was on him in seconds. She ducked a blow and spun behind him, bringing her elbow down hard on his shoulder. He dropped to his knees, and Neve followed with a swift blow to the back of his head. The guard stiffened and toppled facedown.
Neve shot me a grin. “He’ll be out for a while.”
"Holy crap. You move like the wind. How did you learn to do that?”
“It’s Silat, a Southeast Asian martial art. A lot of law enforcement agencies use it.”
To my right, Grey darted out on silent feet, his movements a blur. A moment later, I spotted him dragging the second guard into an alley between two of the old factory buildings.
“Looks like he’s taken care of the other one.” Neve stood. “Come on.”
She sprinted across the open section of docks and disappeared into the alley where Grey had dragged the Marsh Man. I dashed after her and found Grey standing over the guard, whom he’d bound with his own belt. There were gills on the side of the guard’s neck, and he glared at me with green eyes.
“The boss will have your heads for this,” he said.
“He’ll have to catch us first.” Grey removed his tie in a sexy one-handed gesture, then crouched and gagged the Marsh Man with it. “But tell him that the Devil of Darkvale sends his regards.”
“You play a risky game, Devil,” Neve said.
Grey grinned. “What’s life without a little risk?”
He stood and stared down the alley. “Is this the way to your Curse Diviner?”
“Madame Duvoir lives at the end.” Neve hurried quietly down the road. One end of the building abutted a small Art Deco tower, and Neve cut around to the back, where she pointed at a fire escape that hung out of reach. Grey sprang up, grabbed hold of the metal ladder, and pulled it down.
“Will she mind that we’re sneaking up on her?” I asked.
“Friends’ entrance,” Neve said. “And she’ll know we’re here by now.”
“The boss knows you’re here as well.” A feminine voice, tinged lightly with a French accent, sounded from above.
I looked up, spotting a woman with dark, curly hair and unusually bright eyes. She wore a flowing dress with long sleeves, bangles around her wrists, and a broad amber necklace. She grinned widely. “Long time no see, Neve.”
“Hey, Madame Duvoir. Got some time to lend us a hand?”
“All the time in the world.” She raised her brows. “You, however, will be in a world of hurt when the boss shows up.”
“How long do we have?” Neve asked.
Madame Duvoir shrugged. “Well, it’s Thursday, so he’s down at Gigi’s. The show has started, but he’s already received word that there are intruders on the docks.”
Us.
“So it depends on how good the show is,” Madame Duvoir said. “If it’s good enough to distract him, he might just send more Marsh Men. If it’s not…”
“He’ll come himself.” There was a slightly bloodthirsty lilt to Grey’s voice. It would serve me well not to be distracted by his sophisticated manners and elegant suits. He was ruthless at heart, likely addicted to danger.
“Just come on up,” Madame Duvoir said.