Very slowly, Ryan moved his right hand off his dick, toward the butt of the 9 mm automatic. The reaction from the lion was instantaneous. The purring turned into an unmistakable snarl and the jaws opened much wider, showing yellow curved teeth that looked as if they could easily go through a man’s thigh in a single crunching bite.
“Better grab hold of your prick again, mister.”
Ryan started, half turning to his right, where the woman’s voice had come from. But he could see nobody beyond the dark barrier of the pines.
The lion was now in a half crouch, its hind legs cocked beneath it, ready to power the animal toward the watching man in a couple of giant bounds. The eyes had narrowed, and the snarling had stopped. Only the bushy tip of its tail kept moving from side to side, brushing at the pine needles.
Ryan’s hand was down on the cold butt of the blaster.
The voice of the young woman came out of the forest again. “Balthazar’ll have your throat out and your guts spilled in the dirt, before that pretty gun cleared leather.”
“If you got some control over this animal, lady, then you best use it.”
“Use it?”
“Or lose it. Fastest lion I ever heard of wasn’t quick enough to beat fifteen rounds of full-metal jacket. You want it living, then call it off.”
“Big talk for a one-eyed man, mister.”
“Not a game, lady. I aim to chill your pet in about six seconds from now.”
“Think you’re good enough?”
“I know I’m good enough.”
Ryan could actually hear the initial terror warming away from his voice. The shock had been so cataclysmic that he was actually surprised that he hadn’t pissed his pants. Now he was regaining control. Whomever the woman was, her voice was also showing some changes, from an amused confidence to just the first shading of doubt.
“Time’s gone, lady.”
“Balthazar!” The crack of command made the lion hunker down again, eyes narrowing, mouth closing.
“Better.” Ryan drew the SIG-Sauer just in case, giving himself a safer edge.
“If you feel so much better, mister, then you can zip up your breeches and put away that little white worm I see dangling out in the cold.”
Ryan smiled, despite the tenseness of the situation, using his left hand to adjust his dress. “There,” he said. “Now you can come out safely.”
“Thanks.”
Balthazar looked up, starting the deep-throated purring again, as the woman stepped out of the shadows of the trees, a little to the left of where Ryan had placed her.
She was tall and slender, with long hair, blacker than the wing of a raven, tied back in a pony tail. Her eyes were light blue, and she was wearing dark green pants and a matching jacket with black knee-length boots. She carried a riding crop in her hand.
“You can holster the blaster. He won’t move unless I tell him to.”
“How do I know you won’t tell him to move?”
The woman laughed. “Chance you got to take, mister. No other choice.”
J.B.’s voice came from the side of the clearing. “Always another choice, lady. Anything goes wrong, and you got a dead animal on your hands.”
She turned around, unable to spot the Armorer. “How many are there of you?”
Ryan grinned at her, feeling confident that the situation was finally back under their control. “We come cheaper by the dozen, lady.”
Yet another voice called out from a couple of hundred yards away, a younger woman, making the lion lift its head again, staring past Ryan into the forest.
“Ma? You all right?”
“Joking’s over now, strangers,” the woman said. “I’m Ellie Kissoon and I run an animal show. Balthazar’s the star. Got his mate caged up over yonder.”
“Ma?”
“Here, Julie! Couple of men with me as well.”
“Need help, Ma?”
“No. But you could throw a couple more chunks of beef into the stew. Looks like we might have company.” She turned to Ryan. “You and your invisible friend got names?”
“Sure, Ellie. I’m Ryan Cawdor and the ghost in the forest’s J. B. Dix.”
“I got three daughters, Ryan Cawdor. Oldest is Julie, at twenty-one. Then comes Nell, who’s nineteen, and little Katie. She’s eighteen. Just a word of warning.”