wouldn’t seem so alone. She walked out from behind the counter, trying not to look at the boy who had taken up a position there. She glanced at the boy with the knife. Braced herself. And spoke.
“Did you know your knife is a Balisong?”
The boy looked startled; he must have thought she was too afraid to speak. She prayed he didn’t know how close he was to being right.
“You talkin’ to me?”
“Your knife. It’s called a Balisong. And that move you’re doing is sometimes called the ricochet.”
He looked down at the blade in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. Amelia walked past him to a book bay a couple of rows back. She hoped she could find it; she thought she’d seen it the last time she’d straightened this shelf…. And then she had it, the book on ancient weapons used in the various martial arts. She was sure this was it; it covered even the most obscure practices.
She found it quickly, held the page with the photo out for him to see. “Isn’t that beautiful? Look at the dragon design etched into the handle. This guy’s collection is worth a lot of money.”
The boy’s eyes flicked from the photo to the simple stainless steel model he held, then to her face.
“Nobody seems to be sure if they originated there, but it was in the Philippines that they were first incorporated into martial arts. That’s where it got the name.”
His expression was unreadable, and she wasn’t sure if she’d made things better or worse. Nor was she sure encouraging this was a good idea, but he already had the blade, and she doubted he would give it up because she—or anybody else—said so.
“There are several Web sites on the Internet about them. Even more photos of some really beautiful ones.”
Something like curiosity flickered in his shuttered eyes, as if she had done something unexpected.
Suddenly he turned on his heel and walked out. Without a word, the others followed, only one of them glancing back over his shoulder at her.
Amelia closed the book. Her hands were shaking. So were her knees. She sank down on the footstool she used for shelving books.
She hated being afraid.
But she was very much afraid she hadn’t seen the last of them.
Moments later the door opened again. God, they were back. They’d decided to come back and…who knows what. She glanced at her office, with the safety-promising lock on the door, but knew there wasn’t time. She reached for the phone she’d set on the shelf. The book slipped off her knees and fell to the floor with a thud.
“Amelia? Are you here? Are you okay?”
The phone followed the book; it was Luke. She recognized his deep voice, although there was a different note in it now. A touch of anxiety, she realized with a little jolt of shock. As if he were worried.
“Back here,” she managed to say, using the shelves as a prop to stand up, until she was sure she was steady enough to do it on her own; she would hate for him to realize what a coward she was, that five young boys had managed to terrorize her without doing a thing.
He came at a fast trot, only slowing to a walk when he saw her upright. “I saw those kids coming out from up the block,” he said as he came to a stop. “I just ran into them with David a while ago, and they weren’t my idea of kids with nothing on their minds but playing on a summer day.”
“One of them…had a knife.” She managed to suppress a shiver; in front of this man, apparently her pride outweighed her fear.
“The one with all the pockets?”
She nodded.
“Snake, David called him.”
“How…appropriate,” she said faintly.
“Too many movies,” Luke retorted.
She smiled, hoping it wasn’t as shaky as she felt. Her toe hit the book she had dropped, but before she could pick it up Luke was reaching for it. He glanced at the title, then at her, brows raised.
“I…was trying to divert him. Showed him pictures of knives like his, only fancier ones, worth a lot.”
“You deflected a hotheaded, knife-wielding teenager with a book?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How about calling the cops?”
The notorious Luke McGuire, suggesting she call the police? “They weren’t really doing anything.”
“How about waving around a weapon I’m pretty sure is illegal in this state?”
She didn’t understand this; this was hardly what she expected to hear from him, this championing of law and order. “I didn’t want to make things harder on David. They know he comes in here a lot.”
“Oh.” He seemed to consider that. Then, handing her the book, added, “I guess I shouldn’t argue with success. They left, after all.”
Amelia blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. It might have been a desperate ploy on her part, but it had worked. “Yes. Yes, they did.”
“And you look like you could use a stiff drink. But since it’s not even noon, how about another cup of coffee?”
“I…yes. That sounds good. But I’ll have to make fresh.”
“Don’t bother. How about next door? They have something you like? Can you take a break?”
She hesitated, although the coffee bar next to the store made a latte she was fond of. Finally she gave in; she could afford a short break, and from the right table next door she could see any customers who might arrive anyway.
Moments later she was cradling the rich drink, thankful for the warmth despite the fact that it wasn’t the slightest bit cold out.
She looked across the table at him, intending to thank him, but her breath caught in her throat. He was leaning back in his chair, out of the cover of the table’s umbrella, and his hair gleamed almost blue-black in the sun. The glint of gold she’d seen that night—and had barely noticed in their first encounter—turned out to be an earring in the shape of a tiny boat paddle, although she supposed it must have some other significance she wasn’t aware of; she couldn’t quite picture him doing anything as mundane as rowing a boat around, or paddling a canoe. She found she liked it, although her mother had always decried the trend of men wearing earrings. Amelia found it rather rakishly attractive…if the man wearing it could carry it off.
Luke could definitely carry it off.
He was dressed today in jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of what seemed to be an outdoor equipment company. But the simple clothing did little to lessen his impact, and she realized the black leather had only emphasized what was already there. No matter what he wore, this man would never look quite…tame.
He was staring down Main Street, and she was thankful that he’d left off the concealing sunglasses, so she could see where he was looking. And so that she could quickly avert her gaze when he turned his attention back to her.
“David says you moved here when your folks bought the store,” he said conversationally. It seemed odd to her, sort of anticlimactic after the high drama she’d imbued the last few minutes with, to have a normal conversation. It took her a moment to gather her wits and answer.
“Yes. My father was a university professor. He retired to write a book and ended up owning a bookstore instead.” She smiled. “Which, not coincidentally, was what my mother had always wanted.”
“So she pushed him into it?”
Amelia laughed. “No. Neither one of my parents ever pushed the other one to do anything. They never had to. All either one had to do was say they wanted something, and the other one would move mountains to make it happen.