On the other hand, he was in deep now. Deeper than before. So was Six. Even if she did not realize it yet.
"Everyone is in danger," Joseph finally said. "Not just the Chinese."
"The Chinese are all I care about," she said flatly.
He shrugged. "Fine, then. The Chinese are in danger. Happy? Beijing and Shanghai go boom."
Six Stared at him. She was very good at it. "You think this is funny?"
"Of course not," he snapped, wondering how one look could make him feel like an asshole.
Six pressed her lips into a hard line. "Who are you?"
"Joseph." He reached over and shook her limp hand. "And you?"
"I do not answer the questions of criminals."
He raised his eyebrows. "Compliment me again. I love it."
Six growled. Joseph bit back a smile. He had never heard a woman growl. Not really. It was kind of sexy, even if it was an indication of how much she wanted to rip out his throat.
A car cut in front of him. Joseph slammed on the brakes and horn. A boom rattled the car; he heard screams of laughter somewhere near, and glimpsed sparks rising into the sky. He opened his mind again, searching for threats. Felt a tickle. Something inhuman, on the move.
"You're in danger," he told Six.
"Really," she said dryly. "What a remarkable surprise."
"Not from me," Joseph replied gruffly. "From men and women like Chenglei. His associates."
He noted a subtle shift in her eyes. Interest. "I am always in danger from such individuals. There is no difference now."
"You're wrong." Joseph reached out, and very gently touched the scratch on her cheek. "You've been poisoned. That makes all the difference in the world."
Her eyelid twitched. "Explain."
Joseph had to look away. Her reaction did not surprise him, not entirely, though its effect was powerful. Tough woman. Real tough. He hoped it would be enough.
The tickle in his brain intensified. Incoming. Close and fast. Not something he was used to, but this whole situation was out of hand. Unexpected rivals were terrible for carrying out long, uneventful lives. Joseph bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at Six. She still watched him, her expression inscrutable.
"I'm not your enemy," he said.
"Your word is not enough," she replied.
"My word and my actions? It'll have to be enough." Joseph held her gaze for one brief moment. "We are going to help each other, Six. You and me."
"You know my name."
"Not your real name," Joseph said quietly. "But then I'm not even sure you know that."
Again, her eyelid twitched. "Where are you taking me?"
"Someplace safe."
"No such thing exists," Six told him. "No place, ever."
She was right, of course. Joseph sighed. "Pessimist?"
"Realist."
"Trust me," Joseph said. "Or don't. But listen. That's all I ask."
"You are not saying anything I want to hear."
Story of my life, he thought, and pulled off the main road, away from the gutter and digital advertisements of several large shopping complexes. He smelled grease, exhaust; his stomach rumbled. They were near the French District; the street rolled into a tree-lined avenue where the architecture was full of quiet clean lines. There were some bars, all lit up, but the fireworks remained, howling and cackling with each ignition. A ball of fire shot into the sky, exploding too low. Sparks rained down the crowd of men and women huddled just outside an iron gate. Joseph saw bottles of liquor. He heard screams. The sensation of being hunted overwhelmed.
"I may have to free you," Joseph said. "Are you going to hurt me if I do?"
"Yes," Six said.
He blew out his breath. "Any way I can convince you not to?"
"No," Six said. "Absolutely, no."
He was close to home. No parking, though. Joseph had to settle for a spot some distance away. Not terribly ideal. He got out, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door. Six could not turn her head to look at him. Not for lack of trying, though. He could feel the force of her will pushing and pushing against the compulsion. If he let her sit long enough, it was possible she might be able to break it. Joseph had never met anyone quite so strong. Or stubborn.
"If you scream," he told the back of her head, "you know I can make you stop."
"And if I simply talk?"
"Talking is good." Joseph unbuckled Six's seatbelt and hefted her up into his arms. His back hurt. He needed to lift weights. "Ask me anything you want."
"How long have you been a terrorist?"
Joseph stopped and gave her a look. Six sighed. "Fine, so you are not a terrorist. Perhaps I can believe that. I am not convinced anyone else will, though."