Inca Kings

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

Even before Mai completed the killing move, Alicia had known she would do it. Had she fought well? Had she fought as hard as she could? The doubt was there. The doubt that, against comrades, she could never fight without concern ever again.

Mai pulled her down, and let go at the crucial instant. Alicia collapsed to the ground, now weary of it, staring up at the Japanese ninja who knelt above her.

“I’m done,” she said. “Are you?”

Mai grudgingly held out a hand. “I can’t promise to be perfect,” she said. “But I’ll always be there to watch your back.”

“Same goes to you.”

“And Alicia…”

Time stopped. “Yeah?”

“If you ever let him go I’ll be right there, picking up the pieces,” Mai whispered. “You know that don’t you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m perfectly aware.”

“Great.”

Mai helped her up and dusted her down. Alicia tried to pick a few branches out of Mai’s hair but it didn’t feel right. An awkward moment passed and, pretty soon, the women parted and returned to the group.

Kenzie grinned. “Not bad, not bad. If you wanna win next time, Myles, come to me. I’ll give you a few pointers.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Alicia said, but made a mental note to speak to Kenzie later. Just in case. She also noticed Mai narrowing her eyes wonderingly at the ex-Mossad agent. As long as she’d known Mai, Alicia had never known anyone her equal in combat. But somebody, somewhere, was better. They had to be.

Drake winced up at her, sighting the bruises, but said nothing. Dahl patted her knee consolingly, which intentionally made her heckles rise, and then Hayden rose with a glass in her hand.

“To good friends and good soldiers,” she said. “Who — no matter their differences — always have our backs.”

Her gaze went first to Mano Kinimaka, who raised his own in acknowledgement of saving her life back at the chateau. “Good friends and good soldiers,” he echoed.

“I can’t imagine never having your backs,” Drake said. “Cheers.”

Alicia toasted and so did Mai. The flames crackled and spat at the pitch-black skies. Dahl rose with cup in hand to make his own little speech.

“Never forget,” he said. “When you open your eyes in the morning always imagine the Devil dreads hearing your feet hit the floorboards. That he’s thinking, ‘Oh, fuck, what’s that bastard gonna do today?’”

“Amen,” Drake said.

And finally the quietest of them all, Yorgi, rose in the night and made a show of filling his own glass to the brim. Holding it high he declared: “And I’m the one who killed my parents in cold blood.”