Whats that youve got in your hands? Callaway said.

Lucas said nothing. He had a boxers build stout chest, meaty hands and the briefcase swung from his hand like a childs lunch box. Callaway had been in enough scraps to know a fighter when he saw one, and he knew at a glance that Grady Lucas was not a man to be underestimated.

Ignoring Callaway, Lucas opened the passenger door of his truck, slid the briefcase across the floor, and then went around to the drivers seat. He searched the console, then slid down along the seat to check any pockets, cursing under his breath.

Harley appeared at the passenger window, dangling a pair of keys. Looking for these? she said.

With an angry grunt, Lucas threw his door open and stomped around the hood toward Harley, the whites of his knuckles showing as he balled his fists. Callaway, sensing what was about to go down, rushed to intervene.

Harley stood her ground as Lucas stomped toward her like an angry bull tormented beyond reason. She was several inches shorter than Lucas, but she didnt flinch as Lucas stopped inches away. Her jaw was set, her eyes flinty as she stared him down.

Lucas leaned forward, glaring into Harleys eyes with contempt.

Give…me…my…keys, he growled.

Not…until…you…talk to us, Harley answered, refusing to back down. Knowing what Lucas was capable of, Callaway couldnt help but be impressed by Harleys stubbornness. She must have had nerves of steel. Either that, or she was downright crazy.

Lucass cheek twitched. I could break every bone in your pretty little body, snap them like twigs.

Try me, Harley said.

A slow, ugly grin spread across Lucass face.

Deciding this had gone on long enough, Callaway slid the action on his pistol, chambering a round. Hearing the sound, Lucas smirked at Harley. Then, with infinite slowness, he took two steps back.

What do you want to know? he asked, looking from Harley to Callaway.

Callaway felt relieved. He didnt mind a good wrestling match now and then, but he had the impression Lucas was not the kind of man to play fair. If it came to a fight, there was a good chance they would have to put him down with a bulletand Callaway didnt need this mans body on his conscience.

Why dont you start by telling us what youre doing out here? Callaway said.

Lucas gave an insolent shrug. Mapping mines. You know that already.

How long have you been doing that? Harley asked. Her face was calm enough, but the steady rise and fall of her chest suggested she was still slowing her heart rate.

Twenty years, give or take. Why, you want me to put in a good word?

Callaway ignored the sarcasm. Whats in the briefcase?

A little something called none-of-your-business.

Callaway and Harley exchanged a glance.

I seem to recall a comment about breaking my bones, Harley said. Did you hear that, too?