Page 7

“Where is the map?” the man rasped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Why are you doing this?” She utilized every one of her acting skills. She thought her fearful voice was pretty darn impressive.

“You can save the theatrics, Miss Dakota Jones.” He yanked on her wig again. “I am Golden Nova, and you stole from us. You will die tonight.”

Damn. She snorted, trying to buy some time. Plan, Dakota. Think of a plan. “Kill me, and you won’t get your precious map.”

He pulled her head back even more, making her neck ache. “Kill you, and then I can search your dead body and belongings in peace.”

“Oh? You think I’m dumb enough to just have the map hiding out in the open? And you really think the Phoenix crew will just wave off a dead passenger? I doubt Dare Phoenix is the kind of convoy master to let the death of a passenger slide.”

The assassin’s voice lowered. “They’ll never find your body.”

Dakota turned her head as far as his grip would allow. “You know what? I don’t like any of your options.” She rammed her head back.

She felt the back of her head collide with his face. He roared in pain, and his grip slackened. She scrambled free and spun. She aimed a well-placed kick between his legs.

The man groaned, but didn’t go down. He swung his arm again, the knife aimed at her neck.

Damn. She ducked, then slammed her forearm up against his.

Pain radiated through her arm and shoulder. Dammit. He was strong.

He slashed the knife at her again. She barely leaped back out of the way and the blade sliced into the fabric of her coat.

“Screw you,” she bit out. She slammed a fist into his gut and when he grunted, she shoved her elbow up at his jaw. His head snapped back.

The Golden Nova attacker swung wildly with his other arm, and his hand cracked against her cheek.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled back to land another kick, when suddenly, a tall, shadowy figure raced into the fight.

The newcomer slammed into the assassin, tackling him to the ground. The knife flew through the air and landed in a nearby bush.

Dakota stepped backward, her chest heaving. She watched Dare Phoenix—his lean, intense face scarily empty of emotion—pummel his fists into her attacker, and her eyes widened.

“You like to hurt people smaller and not as strong as you?” Dare’s voice was low and lethal.

Dakota took an involuntary step back. His deep voice carried a dark edge that made her shiver.

CHAPTER THREE

Dare stared down at the bloody face of the monk. The man was groaning, and Dare wasn’t sorry about it.

Then he heard a sharp intake of breath, and he glanced over at Miss Johns. She was watching him with those pretty blue eyes. It was a direct gaze, and he saw no fear, no anxiety. He frowned at her, and noticed something else. Her hair was…crooked?

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, her hands clasping her coat.

“You’re sure he didn’t hurt you? He hit your cheek pretty hard.” Even in the dim light of the arboretum, Dare could see her skin was pink.

She reached up and probed it. “I’m fine.”

“Why did he attack you?”

Her gaze dropped to the ground. “I don’t know.” Her shoulders hunched, her hands fidgeting in her coat. “But I’m glad you arrived, or he might have killed me.” Her voice trembled.

She was lying. Dare was sure of it. Staring at her now, she looked like a completely different woman than a few minutes ago. Her posture was different, her demeanor had changed. He’d seen her during the attack. Miss Johns had been giving as good as she got, fighting back with balance, strength, and a plucky courage.