Durand’s mouth twitched.
Oh, so you know a lot of shit, but you didn’t realize I knew a lot of shit too, huh?
The bell above the front door jingled, and the three goons from before stepped in, guns out, frowning.
“They can’t kill me before I kill you, Durand,” Shay hissed.
“That’s likely true, but don’t you see? It doesn’t have to be this way. I respect you, Aletheia, for accomplishing so much when you’re new to the field. At first I thought you were an old veteran who’d changed her name, but now that I’ve seen you, I know that you’re newer at this. Walk away. I’ve already beaten you to the woman.”
“So what? You think she’s gonna give up the artifact to a douchebag like you? She looks like she wants to tear off your balls right now.”
The woman nodded. She must have understood more English than Shay suspected.
Durand chuckled. “I must say I’m disappointed that you haven’t realized it yet.” He pointed with his free hand to a plaque above the shop counter. Cyrillic writing adorned the bottom, but there was nothing else but a worn brass plaque.
“I don’t get it, Durand. You like featureless decorations?”
With a sly grin, the retrieval specialist reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny tooth-wheel. “You see? I never needed to get the location from her.”
Shay narrowed her eyes, her heart rate kicking up. “What the fuck? Then why are you still there? Why are you even bothering to threaten the old woman? Do you get off on it?”
“No, no. I don’t tend to like unnecessary bloodshed, but sometimes it’s necessary. In this case, though I couldn’t resist the chance to meet you.”
The babushka muttered something under her breath and gave Durand a baleful glare.
Shay gritted her teeth. “Let me make this very fucking clear, Durand. I don’t care how badass you think you are or how much some government douchebags are paying you to accept their leash. I’ve killed a lot of people a lot of ways in a lot of places, and I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t paint the walls of this shop fucking red with the blood of you and your asshole friends.”
Durand sighed. “You know the other reason I set up this little farce?”
“You have a small penis and you’re compensating?”
He chuckled. “Reputation’s a curious thing. Not solid, not real. Ephemeral. When you’re evaluating someone, the best thing to do is to observe them in action.”
He pointed the gun straight at the old woman’s stomach. She frowned but didn’t say anything.
Shay’s attention flicked between Durand and the three goons. A single shot would start a storm of lead, but if she timed it right, she could win.
“Do you have a point, Durand, or are you just trying to bore me into leaving?”
“My point is, I’ve learned something through observing you. For example, you arrived here only minutes after me, which means you’re fast, resourceful, and intelligent.
“You were also careful enough to come in the back rather than just gun down my friends over there and kick open the door. That was enough to confirm your reputation as a tomb raider of some skill. My other concern is that you’ve survived encounters with dangerous foes. At least twice you’ve run into Snegurka and survived.”
“She’s a real bitch, you know.”
The babushka glanced between Shay and Durand with a confused look on her face.
Durand held up a finger. “It’s not surprising that you’d live up to your tomb-raiding reputation, but there’s something else that’s hard to know without seeing it in person. Something I now just confirmed.”
“And what’s that?”
“How truly ruthless you are. For all I knew, you were only defending yourself when you killed in the past. There’s a certain practicality to that, but it’s not the same thing as a killer instinct.”
Shay gave him a feral grin. “You don’t want to test my killer instinct, Durand.”
“But I already have. Don’t you see?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“If you were truly the killer you’re trying to convince me you are, you would have shot this woman and me the minute you stepped in.”
“Shit.”
Durand barked out a laugh.
Fuck it.
Shay leapt toward the counter and put a bullet into Durand’s chest. Three quick shots followed before the goons even comprehended a gunfight had started and they collapsed to the ground, their blood pooling together.
The tomb raider hit the floor and rolled onto her back, ready to fire at anyone coming around the corner. The bell above the front door jingled, and she jumped to her feet, her gun still out. Durand sprinted away from the shop.
What the hell?
As he turned, the bulletproof vest under his torn shirt peeked out.
“Damn it. Of course, he had to be fucking careful.”
Shay hopped the counter and looked at the old woman. She was shaking her fist at the front door.
“You okay?” Shay inquired.
“You go,” the woman snapped in heavily accented English. “You go shoot last thief.”
Shay grinned. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” She rushed to the front door. The tomb raider ran after the retrieval specialist, not bothering to squeeze off pistol shots because of the distance.
Durand reached into his jacket.
Going for a gun?
He tossed something her way. Something small and round. A grenade.
“Shit.” Shay jumped behind a cement pylon and closed her eyes.
The grenade didn’t explode. A hiss sounded, and a thick cloud of dark gray smoke choked her.
Shay coughed and ran through the smoke. The air in front of her cleared, and her eyes widened at Durand in the distance leaping from a wooden pier into a blue speedboat—the same speedboat she’d seen almost hit the fishing boat earlier.
Of course, it was you, asshole.
She squeezed off several rounds, but none came close to striking the man or the boat. The engine roared to life and the speedboat shot away from the dock.
“Great. Just great.” Shay dropped her gun
