Devil's Vortex. James Axler
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loud gaudy joviality, she could hear the bristles rasp.
“I can’t really put my finger on it,” he said. “There’s just something...weird about her, you know?”
For a moment she gazed at him with her emerald eyes. She knew what kind of a bewitching effect they had on him.
She gave her hair another twitch. Ever so slightly.
He laughed. “Point taken. I should know better than to try to get one past you, Krysty.”
“You know,” she said, sipping her beer, “you really should.”
Ryan looked around. Their friends seemed occupied and as safe here and now as they ever were anywhere.
“You know,” he said, “with what we got paid for that job from Hamarville, and what Baron Dugan’s giving us for this next gig, we could spring for a private room, just for you and me. What do you say we go check it out?”
A third of her beer remained in her mug. She tossed it back in a single swallow. Then she wiped her mouth, smiled and set the mug down with a decisive thump.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, rising to her feet.
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