Rogue Angel 49: The Devil's Chord by Alex Archer Page B

she was feeling so chivalrous, she wasn’t sure. But she had a weapon and Scout probably did not. Both men were following her now and were gaining on her because she was only jogging, allowing them to catch up. There were only two of them. A number she could easily handle.
    A line of hedges blocked her view of the courtyard that she knew of behind an old church. She wasn’t sure if the church was still in use, but she hoped the courtyard would be empty and provide a private place for whatever the thugs had in mind.
    She sped up and leaped over the hedge, stretching one leg before her, and landed on the loose-pebbled grounds on the other side. She quickly tilted her body into a roll to compensate for the momentum. Coming up to stand, she waited for the thugs to follow suit.
    The first veered right, while the second made the jump, landed right on top of the hedge and rolled off it into an ungraceful splay on the ground before her. But he was quick and hopped upright, displaying an agility that should have seen him over the hedge no problem.
    He slashed a flat hand toward her neck. Annja bent backward, avoiding the strike. She let her shoulders drop and swung up to kick both his knees. That put him off balance and swearing a stream of Italian curses.
    Standing, she stepped over him as he rolled on the ground, and kicked the back of his knee, ensuring the damage was painful. Jumping over him, she clutched his collar and punched his jaw. Blood spurted from his mouth. She dodged to avoid it. This time her boot toe landed at the side of his ribs, targeting the kidney. He yowled and begged her mercy.
    “Really? Big tough guy running after a woman isn’t so sure about that move anymore? Sorry, but guys like you don’t deserve mercy.”
    Another kidney shot reduced his ridiculous pleas to silence.
    Annja turned, and though the night was dim, she saw every detail on the man who approached, holding his coat sides out to reveal a leather holster strung across his broad chest. And along that holster a line of throwing blades glinted menacingly.
    “Not good,” Annja said under her breath.
    The first blade soared toward her, and she dodged it, but felt it fly past her ear. While bent to the side, she called the sword to hand. Three feet of battle steel emerged within her grip. Energized by its presence, Annja blocked the next flying blade with the flat surface of her sword.
    Two more blades soared toward her in rapid succession. She tilted the sword blade downward, preventing a blade from lodging in her calf. The next she felt cut through her sleeve at the shoulder, skimming her skin.
    Not willing to stand there as a target, Annja charged the knife thrower. Even as he released another deadly weapon, she managed to deflect it to the side with a slash of her blade. She rammed into his chest with her shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
    He, too, recovered quickly, but Annja also didn’t waste any time. Drilling her elbow into his ribs, she slid her sword down his arm, not cutting through his leather jacket, but at his bare hand she sliced skin and blood spilled out.
    He yelled and cursed her.
    “Who do you work for?” she asked.
    He said something in a language she didn’t understand. It wasn’t Italian. Likely, he didn’t understand her, either.
    She felt a blade cut along her wrist. How he’d gotten hold of one of his weapons, she wasn’t sure. Releasing him and pushing him away, Annja swung around, drawing her sword across his chest. It didn’t go in so deep she worried he’d die, but it was enough to drop him to his knees and stop his next move.
    Striding away from him, Annja looked around but didn’t see the first thug she had too easily knocked out. He must have come to and was either hiding in the nearby hedges or had hightailed it out of the courtyard.
    After taking in her surroundings, she determined it was only she and the blade man left. “Really? And here I was in the mood for a challenge.”
    Not that the thug