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“Where are you goingnow?” she asked from beside him, sounding aggrieved.

“To pack my gear and leave. Because you blew my goddamn cover.”

“You’re the one who charged in to the rescue. I didn’t ask you to bail me out.” This time she was the one grabbing his arm.

He stopped again. “Uncle Sam writes my paychecks. It’s my job to protect idiots like you from yourselves!”

“I didn’t ask for your protection!”

“That doesn’t relieve me of my duty.”

“Now who’s being stupid? You’re standing on a sidewalk in plain sight announcing at the top of your lungs to everyone within earshot who you are!”

She was right, and that didn’t help his foul mood one damned bit. He swore under his breath and stormed away from her but froze one block shy of his digs. Very slowly, he plastered himself against a wall in the deep shadows of an alley. Something was wrong. He observed the street before him carefully.

“What do you see?” Piper breathed from behind him.

“Nothing. And that’s what worries me. It’s too quiet.”

Thankfully, she didn’t make any ignorant comments about quiet being a good thing. Something was off. He felt it in his gut. But what?

A lone figure came into view, shuffling down the street. He knew that odd, halting gait. The blind charwoman who cooked his breakfast each day, squatting on the edge of the road beside a small wood fire. Ever since soldiers had put her eyes out a few years back, day or night made no difference to her.

“Mala,” he whispered as she drew near.

She swerved into the alley and whispered back, “Monsieur Ian?”

“Oui. C’est moi. Could you step closer where you cannot be seen, please?” He added playfully, “I promise, I’ll behave.”

Mala swatted at his upper arm, striking it unerringly. “Who de foreign lay-dee wit’ you?” she asked in her pidgin English, showing long teeth, yellow even in the last dregs of twilight.

Piper scowled. “How did she know I’m foreign?”

He suppressed a grin. Mala’d confessed to him once that the scents of soap and deodorant on foreigners’ skin gave away their nationalities. But he wasn’t going to be the one to share the hag’s secret.

“What are you doing out on a night like this,ma chère?” he asked. “You know to stay inside when Dharwani and El Noor tangle.”

She shook a skinny finger with knobby knuckles at him. “To stay indoor, hidin’ like a rat, da rat gotta wish ta live.”

“True,” he replied wryly. “Still. Do you need me to walk you home? A pretty young thing like you has no business teasing the boys like this.”

She cackled at that. “No, no. You take-a d’advantage of ole’ Mala, met’inks..”

“Damn. You caught me.”

More cackling. “’Tis I who do you da favor dis night.”

The grin disappeared from Ian’s face instantly. “How’s that?”

“Me hab’ message for d’ foreign woman and huh’ man.”

Ian frowned.Piper’s man? Not. “What’s the message, Mala?”

“Someone wanna talk ta youze. Jus’ talk.”

“Yeah, right.”

“His word on it, Monsieur Ian.”