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Blue Moon :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 34 из 327Your pride iswounded that I'm higher in the pack than you are."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"You guys just drive me crazy," I said. I was almost yelling. "We do not have time for macho bullshit."
Zane leaned against the van near Cherry. He was very careful to keep his hands down and move slowly, no sudden moves. "You couldn't have taken Jamil without the knife and the gun. You won't always have them with you."
"Is that a threat?" I asked.
He raised his hands upward. "Just an observation."
"Hey, folks." A man stepped out of one of the cabins. He was tall, thin, with shoulder-length grey hair and a darker mustache. The hair and the lines in his face said he was over fifty.
The body that showed from the T-shirt and jeans looked lean and younger.
He'd frozen in the doorway, hands on the wooden edges of the doorjamb. "Easy there, little lady."
I pointed the gun at him, because under that calm exterior there was enough power to raise goose bumps on my skin, and he wasn't even trying.
"This is Verne," Jamil said. "He owns the cabins."
I lowered the gun to the ground. "He the local Ulfric, or do they have something scarier hiding in the woods?"
Verne laughed and started walking towards us. He moved in an almost clumsy roll like his arms and legs were too long for his body, but it was deceptive. He was playing human for me. I wasn't fooled.
"You spotted me pretty damn quick there, little lady."
I put the Browning up because to keep it out would be rude. I was here as his guest in more than one way. Besides, I had to trust someone enough to put the gun up. I couldn't keep it naked in my hand the entire trip. I still had the naked blade, complete with blood. It needed to be cleaned before I could sheathe it. I'd gummed up a couple of smaller sheaths from not cleaning them well enough.
"Nice to meet you, Verne, but don't call me little lady." I started to wipe the blood on the edge of the black jacket. Black's good for that.
"Don't you ever give an inch?" Jamil asked.
I glanced at him. There was blood all over his nice white clothes. "No," I said. I motioned him over to me.
He frowned. "What?"
"I want to use your shirt to wipe the blood off the blade."
He just stared at me.
"Come on, Jamil. The shirt is already ruined."
Jamil pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion. He threw the shirt at me, and I caught it one-handed. I started cleaning the blade with the unstained part of the shirt.
Verne laughed.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"You guys just drive me crazy," I said. I was almost yelling. "We do not have time for macho bullshit."
Zane leaned against the van near Cherry. He was very careful to keep his hands down and move slowly, no sudden moves. "You couldn't have taken Jamil without the knife and the gun. You won't always have them with you."
"Is that a threat?" I asked.
He raised his hands upward. "Just an observation."
"Hey, folks." A man stepped out of one of the cabins. He was tall, thin, with shoulder-length grey hair and a darker mustache. The hair and the lines in his face said he was over fifty.
The body that showed from the T-shirt and jeans looked lean and younger.
He'd frozen in the doorway, hands on the wooden edges of the doorjamb. "Easy there, little lady."
I pointed the gun at him, because under that calm exterior there was enough power to raise goose bumps on my skin, and he wasn't even trying.
"This is Verne," Jamil said. "He owns the cabins."
I lowered the gun to the ground. "He the local Ulfric, or do they have something scarier hiding in the woods?"
Verne laughed and started walking towards us. He moved in an almost clumsy roll like his arms and legs were too long for his body, but it was deceptive. He was playing human for me. I wasn't fooled.
"You spotted me pretty damn quick there, little lady."
I put the Browning up because to keep it out would be rude. I was here as his guest in more than one way. Besides, I had to trust someone enough to put the gun up. I couldn't keep it naked in my hand the entire trip. I still had the naked blade, complete with blood. It needed to be cleaned before I could sheathe it. I'd gummed up a couple of smaller sheaths from not cleaning them well enough.
"Nice to meet you, Verne, but don't call me little lady." I started to wipe the blood on the edge of the black jacket. Black's good for that.
"Don't you ever give an inch?" Jamil asked.
I glanced at him. There was blood all over his nice white clothes. "No," I said. I motioned him over to me.
He frowned. "What?"
"I want to use your shirt to wipe the blood off the blade."
He just stared at me.
"Come on, Jamil. The shirt is already ruined."
Jamil pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion. He threw the shirt at me, and I caught it one-handed. I started cleaning the blade with the unstained part of the shirt.
Verne laughed.