Point of No Return by N.R. Walker Page A

gunfight like in the movies."
    I laughed. "I've been shot at, punched, kicked, threatened with knives, bats, broken bottles…"
    Kira whispered, "Jesus…"
    I looked at Sal and smiled. "But no John Wayne gun slinging."
    Kira shook his head. "I think we need to take your kickboxing defense a little more seriously."
    I grinned at him. "I thought you were taking it seriously."
    Yumi stood up to clear the table. "Kickboxing won't make him bulletproof."
    "No, it won't," Kira mumbled. He looked at me seriously. "I can't believe you get shot at!"
    I snorted. "I'm a narcotics cop in LA! Of course I've been shot at."
    Kira blinked, seemingly at a loss for words, but Yumi called him to help her in the kitchen, leaving me alone with Sal. I looked at Kira's father, and he was smiling at his son as he walked out of the room. When he looked at me, he laughed and stood up, indicating I should follow him.

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    He walked into the family room and over to the fireplace. When I stood beside him, he pointed to the photographs along the mantelpiece. It was like a visual growth chart of Kira, from a black-haired, brown-eyed, smiling baby boy, to an elementary schoolboy, to a soccer-playing kid, to a karate-outfit-wearing teenager, to a graduate.
    I looked at Sal and smiled. "He kept you busy?"
    He laughed and nodded. He pointed to the photos of the baby and small boy then waggled his hand in a so-so manner, indicating Kira wasn't a bad kid. Then he pointed to the photos of him as a teenager and rolled his eyes.
    I laughed. "I bet he was a handful as a teen." Then I looked closer at the photograph of Kira playing soccer. I looked directly to Sal so he can read my lips. "Did he have a black eye in that photo?"
    Sal nodded and sighed. Then he put his hands up in the fighter's position.
    I asked, "He was always fighting?"
    Sal nodded and pointed to the photo of Kira in his karate garb. I nodded in understanding. "He did martial arts to learn self-defense?"
    Sal nodded again, just as Kira walked back into the room. He walked right up to me and slid his arm around my waist. "Is my dad telling you embarrassing stories?"

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    I chuckled, a little embarrassed at his display of affection in front of his father. "Just that you used to fight a lot."
    "Still do," he said proudly. "Just now I get paid to teach it and keep fit."
    I shook my head at him then looked back to the school-aged photos. "It's hard to believe you were ever that little," I said, rubbing my hand up Kira's back. Even knowing Sal was deaf and couldn't hear me, I leaned and whispered, "You were still cute, though."
    Sal signed something, making Kira laugh. "Dad says you'll need to work on hiding your mouth when you want to talk dirty."
    Oh. My. God. Sal read my lips…
    I could feel my face heat, no doubt turning a dozen shades of mortified. Kira kissed the side of my head, still laughing, and a grinning Sal clapped his hand against my arm.
    "Mom," Kira called out with a laugh. "We're gonna head off now." Kira swiped the keys from my pocket. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and he eyed me very seriously. "Do you know where we're going?"
    I sighed. "No."

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    Kira looked at me and grinned. Apparently, he won that one. I glanced at Sal, and while Kira wasn't looking, he quickly pointed to the kitchen where Yumi was, then to Kira, and then he entwined his middle and forefinger. He was telling me they were close, and they were a lot like each other.
    I laughed, making Kira look at me. He then eyed to his father. He knew what we were doing, and apparently speaking in sign language behind each other's backs was a family trait.
    Yumi came out with containers of leftovers for us to take with us and was still giving us instructions when we were walking out the door.
    "Yes, Mom," Kira said for the tenth time. "I've been there a hundred times. I'm sure we'll find it just fine, even in