She turned left as she exited the deck. I waited for a moment, watching her taillights as I turned my wheel to the right. Movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. A black car eased out of the alley across the way, flipped on its headlights, and got behind Scarlett’s car. It didn’t have a tag.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned the wheel to the left. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe hanging around downtown in the dead of night wasn’t just for lawyers and hackers. But something seemed off.
I hit the gas but hung back, tailing the black car as it took every turn and made every move Scarlett did. After a while, I realized it wasn’t a coincidence. The black car was glued to Scarlett, following her down St. Charles and into the Garden District. She wove through some narrow lanes until turning onto Prytania Street and then making another sharp turn onto a wooded lane that led to a small cottage with a small front porch and understated Corinthian columns. She stopped in the drive.
The black car continued down the block. I followed it, checking my rear view to make sure Scarlett got inside her house. She closed the front door as I turned right. The black car had already made another right, circling the block. I eased along, keeping my distance while maintaining my view. The car pulled up to the curb in the narrow alley behind Scarlett’s house.
Its brake lights faded as a man stepped out and pulled a mask down over his face, Mardi Gras maudlin. I scrambled for my phone, succeeding in knocking it to the floorboard as the man disappeared through the fence and into Scarlett’s backyard. I didn’t have a gun or any sort of weapon, but I’d be damned if I was going to let this guy get anywhere near Scarlett.
I parked at the end of the alley and got out, not closing my door. I hurried to Scarlett’s house, walking through her neighbors’ grass to muffle my steps.
A light clicked on in her house and a shadow passed in front of a window. I eased through the fence and stepped over the walk and into the neatly mown grass. The man was ahead of me, standing in the yard and watching Scarlett through the window. She’d stripped her shirt off and was opening a dresser drawer.
“Easy.” The man whispered and laughed low. The moon flashed through between the clouds and glinted off the silver gun hanging at his side. The muzzle was elongated from a silencer.
I crept up behind him as he stood mesmerized, watching Scarlett unhook her bra and change into her pajamas. He didn’t hear me behind him, the mask likely dulling his sense. Violence grew inside me, pushing me forward to take the guy out for thinking he could look at her, much less harm her. I was almost to him when he moved to my left, heading for the back door.
Fuck. I shadowed him. Before he even put his foot on the bottom step, I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around his middle and pinning his arms to him. We fell, him beneath me, and he let out a startled yell as he slammed into the ground. I gripped the cold metal of the gun, ripping it from his grip as he fired a single round into the dirt with a light pop sound. He threw an elbow back, catching me above the right eye so hard, I saw stars for a moment.
He shoved me off and stood to run, but I wrapped my arms around his shins, sending him toppling to the ground again. Crawling on top of him, I pistol-whipped him across the side of the head and he stilled.
Scrambling off him, I got to my feet and pointed the gun at his chest. He shook his head, as if clearing cobwebs. I could see his eyes through the mask, but it was too dark to get any details.
“Hands up, asshole.” I waved at him with the gun.
He sat up, hands in the air.
“Who sent you?”
He gave no response, the multicolored mask leering at me.
“Discord?” I asked.
He cocked his head, but still said nothing.
The porch light flipped on and the back door opened. I turned my head to warn Scarlett to stay inside, but the man on the ground took advantage and threw himself at my legs, knocking me off balance. I fell on my ass but held on to the gun. He was on his feet and running through the fence before I could get a shot off.
Scarlett rushed out to me as he started the car and peeled off into the night. “Are you okay? Who was that? What—?” She knelt and looked at my right eyebrow. “You’re bleeding.”
“Get in the house.” I struggled to my feet and wrapped my arm around her waist, hustling her up the stairs and through the back door. “Lock it. Make sure everything’s locked.”
She glared at me. “What are you doing here and who was that and why are you bleeding?” Her voice rose with each question. “And why do you have a gun?”
I gripped her shoulder. “We aren’t safe. Check the locks and when you come back, I’ll tell you. Okay?”