Anyhow, it was like watching a piece of art fly by. She practically glowed.

I flattened into my recess, but not soon enough. Quick reflexes, for an uptowner . . . if that’s really what she was. She slowed and glanced back, scanning the shadows, like she sensed more than saw me. But spill from the streetlamp must’ve put a shine on my eyeballs, and she focused right on me. Her eyes tensed with interest, and something else I couldn’t read. I snarled and puffed myself up, to show I wouldn’t come easy. But then, more splashing and thudding, and her gaze slid back uptown. Since she’d already tagged me, I eased out for a look and wished I hadn’t.

Serious trouble pounding around the corner: two big thugs in slick, black body armor. Where’d they come from? Maybe it was their mystery building, and they’d seen her pass by? Didn’t matter. I’d lingered too long.

The girl spiked a look at me and cocked an eyebrow. A question more than a plea, but like I said, I’m not a fighter. I shook my head, jerked a thumb for her to take a hike. She didn’t look half played out. Probably hadn’t planned on a random streetlamp picking her up like a damn searchlight, but she could lose them in a few blocks where it got dark again. Meanwhile, if she didn’t move along, she’d bring the thugs down on me. I scouted my exit down a next-door alley, praying she wouldn’t follow.

The damn girl just shrugged, adjusted her grip on the pack strap, and turned to face the incoming. I pressed a fist to my jaw to keep from howling out loud. Trying to get us both killed? A rich girl could be armed—might explain her stupid bravado—but I was stuck with my pry-bar and a pocketknife.

I jiggled the door behind me. Jammed, fused, swelled up from too many floods. Kick it in? Might as well send up a flare. Options zero, I ducked out of my niche and into the alley, clear of the lamplight. With luck, they’d be too intent on the girl to notice. The narrow passage vanished into junk piles and deep night. I listened for moving water, heard only the clomp of boots on pavement. A blocky shape loomed at the edge of the dark, maybe an overturned dumpster. Cover. I could be there in seconds.

Instead, plastered against the rough brick, stomach somewhere up in my throat, I stayed to watch. Call me crazy, but I just had to see what happened next.