Destiny Read Free Page B

single tai chi class. She was an embarrassment to the other nuns, but she didn’t care and Annja had loved the old woman for it.
    Annja went on the attack at once. Outrunning a pistol in the twisting confines of the alley was out of the question.
    Her phone rang again, sounding inordinately loud in the alley even after the thunderous peal of the gunshot. She wondered if anyone had called the police.
    She stepped forward, her mind working rapidly as it always did. She wasn’t scared. During her experiences as an archaeologist working in countries far from home, she’d encountered a number of potentially threatening situations caused by weather, ancient traps, geology and men.
    Being scared wouldn’t help anything.
    Striding forward, her left hand over the top of the stick and her right hand under it, Annja slid her right hand down, leaving her right knuckle over the top of the stick as it came over and down, and struck.
    The stick slammed against the man’s forearm. Something cracked. He released his pistol and screamed. Annja cut off the scream with her next blow, an up strike that caught him under the jaw and dropped him to his knees.
    Whirling, knowing the first man she’d attacked was regaining his balance, Annja took another grip on the stick. Stepping forward, she slammed the blunt end of the stick into the man’s stomach, doubling him over.
    Unbelievably, he brought his pistol up and squeezed the trigger. Two shots ricocheted from the wall behind Annja, missing her by inches.
    Dodging again to the left, Annja spun the stick and swung at his gun hand, aiming for the thumb and wrist. Bones broke like dry branches cracking in a campfire.
    Staying on the attack, Annja whirled again. She hit the man across the back, aiming for his kidneys. Then she struck him across the backs of his knees, dropping him to the ground.
    Even then, doubtless blossoming with pain, he tried to face her. Annja drove the blunt end of the stick against his forehead. He was unconscious before he sprawled on the ground. Blood dripped from the half-moon wound on his forehead.
    The other man reached for his dropped pistol.
    Annja drove the end of the stick forward, catching the man in the side of the neck and knocking him aside. She kicked the pistol away.
    Over the past few years, she’d learned how to use pistols, but she didn’t want to touch either of theirs. There was no telling how many crimes were attached to them, and she didn’t want to confuse the issue with her fingerprints in case they were all taken into custody.
    Before the man could get up again, Annja pinned him to the ground with the stick against the base of his throat. “No,” she said.
    The man grabbed the stick in both hands and wrenched it away. She kicked him in the face with her hiking boot. The black La Sportiva with Gore-Tex lining had plenty of tread. For hiking slippery slopes and kicking butt, Annja thought, they just can’t be beat.
    The tread ripped at the man’s face, opening a cut over his right eye. Annja put the end of the stick against his throat again, almost making him gag.
    â€œDo that again,” Annja said in an even voice, “and you’ll regret it.”
    The man held his hands up beside his head in surrender. Blood trickled into his eye, forcing him to squint.
    Holding the stick in place, Annja carefully stretched to search the unconscious man. She found money, two clips for the pistol, but no identification.
    â€œWho are you?” Annja asked the pinned man.
    The man growled a curse at her.
    Annja pressed the stick against his throat and made him retch. She let him up enough to turn over and vomit.
    â€œBad mistake,” she said.
    A siren wailed in the distance, growing closer.
    Annja decided she didn’t want to be around to answer questions from the Lozère police. As an American, even one with a proper passport, things could become tense. She wasn’t on a dig site with