Dragons Wild

One night, he was walking Fox Lisa back to her apartment. She had called him from her bartending job and suggested that he pick her up when she got off work so they could spend some time together, and he had complied.

It was a weekday night, so the side streets were virtually deserted except for a few single pedestrians either making their way home or to a late-night club for a nightcap. The weather was pleasant, if warm, and he enjoyed her company as she clung to his arm and chatted about the problems that had arisen on her shift, obviously decompressing now that she was off duty.

All at once, the night felt wrong.

There was nothing tangible or specific that had changed, but he suddenly realized he was feeling edgy and a bit tense, as if there was static electricity dancing just above his skin.

A month ago he would have shrugged it off as a mood swing. Now, however, he surreptitiously swept the street ahead with his eyes.

Nothing in particular caught his attention, but the feeling persisted.

Leaning down slightly to kiss the top of her head, he glanced behind them.

One guy walking alone on the far side of the street about a half block back. No feeling of threat there.

He looked ahead again.

There was a man standing in the shadows twenty feet ahead, partially hidden by the cement steps running up to an apartment door. It looked like he was tying his shoelace, but it seemed to be taking him a long time to do it.

The setup didn’t seem to match the way Mose described the George operating, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

He kissed the top of Lisa’s head again and murmured in her ear.

“Don’t like the looks of the guy ahead, there. Be ready to get behind me.”

With that he straightened again and continued walking, casually putting his hand on the knife in his pants pocket.

Angling their path so it slanted closer to the curb, he stopped about eight feet short of the man in question and made as if to kiss Lisa on the lips.

The man came out of the shadows and started toward them, one hand hidden in his pocket.

Griffen moved a step forward, steering Lisa behind him with his left hand.

“Can we do something for you?” he called while the man was still six feet away.

The man continued toward them.

“I was wondering if you could…”

“Hold it right there!”

Griffen realized with a start that Fox Lisa was beside him, a small, black, automatic pistol in her hand leveled at the man in front of them.

The man froze in his tracks.

“Let’s see your other hand…and it better come out empty.”

The man slowly removed his hand from his pocket and held it empty at shoulder height.

“I don’t want no trouble,” he said. Soothingly.

“You got him?”

The call came from the far side of the street. Griffen glanced back and recognized the man who had been walking behind them as one of the two men who had been shooting pool in the Irish pub when he and Jerome had met with Gris-gris.

“I got him,” Lisa called back. “Make sure he’s alone.”

The shadower waved and moved on ahead.

The man under the gun hadn’t moved, but he kept glancing nervously down the street behind him and muttering softly to himself.

Fox Lisa took two steps forward, her weapon still leveled, and jerked her head toward Griffen.

“I want you to take a long look at this man,” she instructed. “Do you know who he is?”

The man stared at Griffen and shook his head.

“This is Griffen McCandles,” she said, drawing the name out for emphasis. “You may have heard of him. He’ll be taking over Mose’s business.”

The man stared harder at Griffen and said something that sounded apologetic.

“Remember him and tell your friends they can save themselves a load of trouble if they walk wide around him. Understand me?”

“Yes’m.”

“All right. Get moving and don’t let us see you again tonight.”

The man turned and sprinted away down the street.

“That was a good call,” Lisa said as she returned her automatic to the pocket in the back of the fanny pack she was wearing. “Most people wouldn’t have spotted…What?”

Griffen continued staring at her.

She cocked her head and frowned.

“Is something wrong, lover?”

“You’re carrying a gun,” he said.

“Yeah. So? Sometimes it comes in handy…like tonight.”

“It’s just…I’ve never known anyone who carried a gun before.”

“That’s right. I keep forgetting you’re from up north.” She flashed him a quick grin. “Well, you’re in the South now, and a lot of people carry. It’s even worse over in Texas.”

“Isn’t that illegal or something?” Griffen managed at last.

Again the grin.

“So’s gambling, but we do it anyway. No. Seriously. It’s not that hard to get a concealed weapons permit here in New Orleans. Especially if you live in the Quarter and have to go out at night. Of course, being a girl helps. Anyway, all you have to do is take a class and get certified so they know you won’t shoot anyone including yourself accidentally. Other than that, the only big rule is that you can’t carry in a bar.”

“But you…”