“Right.” He looked around the alley. “We should head back.”

“Excellent. People will shoot at us and there will running. Lots of running.” I flourished my hand toward the street. “Allons-y!”

“Did you just make a Doctor Who reference?” Owen raised an eyebrow.

“What? You know about the Doctor? But you don’t know about the Notting Hill movie?” I tsked.

“Of course I know the Doctor.” He put his hand on the small of my back as we walked. “I’m quite fond of the Daleks.”

“You would be.” I chuckled.

“Well, I do exterminate for a living.” He lead the way out of the alley and back toward the underground. He was making an effort to relax, but I could still see the tension gripping his jaw.

“So, where are we going now?” I stuck my hands in my sweater pockets and kept pace.

“We’re going to see Marcus.” He looked straight ahead.

“I thought you told Mavis we were going to do it tomorrow.” I stopped walking.

“So trusting.” He turned and looked at me with dark eyes. “You are a rare person, Ava.”

“Is that a nice way of calling me stupid? Or whatever you Brits say? Daft?” I rolled my eyes.

He snorted. “No, you just aren’t as jaded as I am. That’s not a bad thing.”

“So we’re going to Marcus now?” I watched out of the corner of my eye as we maneuvered around people. “And how are we going to get in? Grappling hook? Disguises?”

He looked at me like I had grown an extra head for a moment before busting into laughter. I would have enjoyed the sound if it hadn’t been directed at me.

“No. We’re going to do as Mavis suggested. You’ll be my hostage and I’ll offer you as trade.”

My feet froze and for a moment I wondered if he would do it, give me to his brother, but then I remembered the look in his eyes. He wasn’t going to give me to anyone.

“I thought you said that was a bad idea.”

He turned to look at me. “That was before I was the one going in with you.”

“But what if they just shoot you?” I didn’t move. It suddenly felt like a horrible idea. “There’s a price on your head as well. A much bigger one.”

“Marcus is the boss, so no one touches me besides him. And he’ll want to talk. He’ll know I have a good reason to be there since I could have much more easily waited to kill him when he left the house.” He wrapped his fingers around mine and pulled me with him. “We can’t stand out in the middle of the street, even with all of these people. It’s too risky.”

I let him pull me down another road, through the stands and around the shoppers. I was still thinking through how this could possibly work when he stopped next to a small shop. He looked at the table out front, showcasing fresh fruit.

“Are you really hungry?” I asked.

“I didn’t eat anything.” He tsked over a basket of fresh berries. “But no. However, the house with the dark brown door and large man standing out front is my brother’s home.”

I fought the urge to turn and look; instead I picked up an apple and stared at the peel. “What now, sneaky one? With your disdain for grappling hooks and fake mustaches.”

“Do you trust me?” His eyes locked on mine.

I didn’t respond immediately. He’d asked me that several times now. Did I trust Owen? Did I know that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me? My gut told me yes, but it was the sincerity in his eyes that made me respond out loud. “Yes.”

“I promised to never lie to you.” He looked at another basket of berries before handing them to the shop attendant to buy. “This is going to be dangerous and people will die. I will do my best to make sure that we aren’t among them.”

“Okay then.” I tried to calm my racing heart.

“I’m not always like this, Ava.” He looked between us and I knew he meant how he treated me. “I’ve never hidden what I am and what I do, but you haven’t seen it in action.”

“I understand.”

The employee handed Owen the basket of berries and his change before moseying off to help another shopper.

“You need to give me your gun.”

“Right here, on the street?” I looked around us. “You’re the daft one.” I smiled. “Ha! I said daft!”

“Not here. Come with me.” He pulled me into a small clothing shop and pushed me toward the back. “Wrap it in your sweater and we’ll put it in my bag.”

Grabbing a shirt from a random rack, I headed toward the back where the fitting rooms were located. I pulled the curtain closed and spun in a circle. There was a full length mirror, a hook, and nothing else. I hung the shirt on the hook, checked the curtain one more time and ripped off my sweater. Throwing it on the floor I reached behind me and tried to pull the gun out of the holster without shooting one of my buns off. It wouldn’t budge, so I had to unbutton my jeans. Peeking over my shoulder I tried to pull the pistol and holster off at the same time, but it was stuck in there good. Becoming frustrated, I yanked as hard as I could. The gun and holster came free from my pants and spun in the air. Whipping around, I tried to juggle it between my hands, but was terrified my finger would catch the trigger.

With a loud clunk, the gun hit the floor and I squeezed my eyes shut. As soon as I realized it hadn’t gone off and that I hadn’t been shot, I scrambled to pick it up from the floor and wrap it in my sweater. Really, I knew better. Guns didn’t just go off when they were dropped, but it was hard to fight that immediate reaction.