"Just in case Cavallo has gotten stupid in his old age."

"And if he hasn't?"

She gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Rio knows this desert better than any of us. If they're leading her into a trap, she'll know."

"I hope you're right." Though Rio and I weren't the best of friends by any yardstick one wished to use, I'd come to respect the large, quiet woman a great deal. I didn't want to see her hurt. Nia either, despite my oft-voiced thoughts to the contrary.

"I am."

And because it was Ice saying these things, I gave up my reservations and simply believed.

"So...I guess it's back to more shopping, huh?" I tried out my best nonchalant voice, but I'm afraid my grin gave me away.

Rolling her eyes, my lover quirked a grin right back at me. "Guess so."

I affected a sigh. "Well, alright. It'll be a hardship, but I'll manage to muddle through. Somehow."

Smirking, she gave me a gentle shove back in the direction I'd come. "Stay around this general area. If you see anything that doesn't sit right with you, come find me. I won't be too far away."

"Will do."

As I walked away, something bright and shiny caught the periphery of my vision. Like some sort of overgrown crow drawn to a bit of aluminum foil with which to feather its nest, I headed unerringly in the direction that had caught my interest.

The booth was small, and set a bit back from the rest. As I moved closer, it became quickly obvious that a master silversmith had chosen this place to display his exquisite handiwork. I looked around in utter awe as I came to a stop in front of the long display table. Most of the pieces were jewelry of some kind; bracelets, pendants, arm cuffs and rings being the most predominant. They were similar, though much better in quality, to pieces I'd seen in some of the more expensive jewelry stores at one time or another in my life, especially in the southwest. The price tags for such works of art started in the mid hundreds and only went up from there. I hesitated to see how much these were going for.

Rather then look for price-tags, I decided to examine the artist himself, who was sitting on what looked to be a wooden beer keg while working on his latest creation. He was young, that much I could tell at first glance. With a trimmed shock of thick black hair that shone blue in the intense light of the sun, he was short of stature, but wiry and well muscled in his tight white t-shirt, faded jeans, and dusty boots.

As if sensing my gaze, he looked up, and favored me with a boyish grin that touched the inky black depths of his deep set eyes. Charmed, I couldn't help but smile back, noticing as I did the strong resemblance he bore to Rio. It was obvious that they shared the same ancestry, though I doubted they were in any way related.

Saying nothing, he looked back down and began his sculpting work anew, apparently content with my intrusion. I watched his hands as he worked, his fingers thick and square and blunt. Sure, strong and swift, yet so unlike Ice's long fingers which moved with almost liquid grace while undertaking much the same task, though her medium of choice was wood and not silver.

As I watched, I made sure that I was also aware of my surroundings at all times. My eyes were in constant motion, scanning the market and the people therein, looking for something, anything, which would set my internal "danger" meter off.

So far, everything seemed quiet.

The market seemed to have recovered quickly from the upset the thugs had caused, as public gatherings sometimes will once the shouting is all over and there's nothing more to see.

By the time I looked back at the object of my attention, he had finished the piece he was working on and was rubbing it briskly with a buffing cloth. Silver peeked from behind the soft cloth, winking cheerily in the sun. I could tell it was a bracelet by the vague outline which shone through as he worked. More like a wrist cuff, actually, almost two inches wide with a carved design along the face.

Giving me a boyish, almost shy, grin, he held out the object for my inspection, a quick motion of his head inviting me to take it into my own hands for an closer examination. Smiling back, I reached out, then stopped, my fingers scant inches from their goal. I could feel my jaw hang open as my gaze zeroed in on the design on the bracelet.

The rim of the rising sun was carved in bas relief along the face. And below that, an intricately carved and absolutely beautiful tree, spreading its limbs to the sun.

A bonsai tree.

Close enough to the one Ice had carved on our headboard to have been its twin.

I looked up from the bracelet to the artist who created it. His black eyes, just seconds before youthful and innocent, seemed almost ancient in their wisdom. It wasn't as if he was looking at me. It was as if he was looking through me, beyond the flesh and blood and bone and into that space where my soul resided.

I felt a prickle of fear skitter up my spine.

"How did... ?" I trailed off, realizing in my shock that I was speaking English.

He smiled, pressing the bracelet into my hands and backing a half step away, diluting somewhat the tension between us. "Sometimes, things just are," he said, likewise in English, his voice soft and warm. "It belongs to you, now."

"Oh no," I demurred, holding the bracelet out to him. "I couldn't possibly... ."

He held his hands up, refusing to take it back. "I saw this vision in my mind, and when you came, I knew it was meant for you to have." He cocked his head slightly. "There is someone close to you for whom that design has deep meaning, yes?"

Stunned, I could only nod.

"Good. Then I have chosen wisely. Please. Accept my gift to you both. It is a tradition of my people."

"But... I... ."

"I give this to you, knowing it will be cherished. What more can I ask?"

I laughed a little, as much to break the tension as anything else. "Well, money's nice too... ."

He laughed then, looking much more like the young man he was-to my great relief-than the wizened ancient he'd appeared just seconds before. "Yes, money has its uses. And rest assured that the compensation I receive from well-to-do jewelers to the north guarantees that I'm rarely without it. But, if art is not sometimes done for art's sake, it quickly loses much of its meaning." He grinned. "To me, at least. So take this, with my good wishes, and enjoy it. Or throw it away. It's yours."

I knew the look in his eyes very well indeed. It was the same expression Ice used when a subject was closed beyond all possibility of ever being reopened again. In this century or any other, for that matter. It was an expression to which there was, really, only one answer.

Graceful concession.

"Thank you."

Another charming, boyish smile, and then he dismissed me, though not unkindly, by returning his full attention to his work.

At somewhat of a loss, I looked back down at the bracelet in my hand, viewing it from every possible angle under the brilliant light of the midday sun. I imagined, as I did so, how it would look on Ice's wrist, the silver gleaming brightly against the deep, burnished tan of her skin.

Ice didn't wear jewelry as a rule. In fact, in all the time I'd known her, I'd never seen her so much as eye a piece, much less don one.

Still, I had a feeling that this particular object just might change all that.

And if it didn't, it wasn't as if I'd lost any money in the deal.

"And speaking of money," I muttered to myself after giving my benefactor one last look. "I think I know someone who'll appreciate some right about now."

After a quick glance around and noting that the coast was still clear, I set off in the direction of the booth the thugs had torn apart earlier. The proprietor was still there, sitting on an overturned crate, his shoulders slumped in disconsolation. Several people were gathered around him, speaking in low and sympathetic tones. My heart went out to him, this poor man who had likely lost enough potential income to keep his family through the winter.

Stepping through the small crowd, I pulled all the money Ice had given me out of my pocket and thrust it into his trembling hands. "For you," I said in my faltering, grade-school Spanish. "Merry Christmas."

He looked up at me with moist eyes the size and shape of saucers. His mouth hung open in a perfect oval as he stared.

Blushing to beat the band, tuba section and all, I bowed my head a little, smiled, and quickly turned on my heel before I started blubbering like some sort of idiot under the influence of a little too much Christmas cheer.

Half running down the wide, dirt-packed aisle, I looked quickly around me, then stopped dead in my tracks as I spied two figures entering through the main gate. Tall men, both, with regimental haircuts, broad shoulders, and clothes which, though they tried their best to look casual, were obviously quite expensive.

Thinking quickly, I ducked into a corner booth, breathing fast and trying desperately to fight against the memories their presence brought with them. Images of staring down the barrel of a gun as I tried to protect Corinne with my own body. Images of my unconscious lover being dragged away as I begged and pleaded with them to please leave her alone.

"Alright, Angel," I whispered, the sound of my own voice calming me somewhat. "Now's not the time to be having flashbacks, here. Those are the guys we've been waiting for. You know it. So let's just get on the ball and find Ice, alright?"

Thus fortified, I was about to turn when a warm pair of hands descended on my shoulders and almost sent the life screaming right out of me. "Good eyes," came a husky voice in my ear, as fragrant hair brushed softly against my cheek.

"Jesus, Ice," I breathed, relaxing back against her. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

With a gentle squeeze, Ice stepped back away from me and Critter and Pony gathered 'round. "That them?" Critter asked, looking somewhere beyond my field of vision.

"Yup," Ice replied softly.

"So, what do we do now?" Pony chimed in.

"I'll show you," she replied, reaching down to clasp my hand in hers, then starting out with that long-limbed, take-no-prisoners stride of hers, which left me half running every other step just to stay on my feet.

Before I knew it, we were out the gate and heading rapidly toward our car, parked toward the back.

"Um, Ice?" I queried when I was able to get my wind back.

"Mm?" she replied, unlocking the doors and opening them quickly.

"Aren't...aren't the guys we're after thataway?"

"Yes." She drew the word out.

"Then...why are we going in the opposite direction? Aren't we supposed to be keeping tabs on them?"

"That's exactly what we're doing."

I looked over my shoulder at Critter, who grinned and shrugged helplessly before ducking her head and getting into the back seat. Pony just smirked.

I looked back at my lover. "Wouldn't it be better to keep tabs on them where we could actually see them?"

Her smile put the Mona Lisa's to shame. "We will. Eventually."

Grumbling, I slipped into the car and slammed the door shut. Ice smirked when she slid inside, and when she lowered her glasses, her eyes were twinkling mischievously. I stuck my tongue out at her, and she chuckled, laying a warm hand on my thigh. "We'll wait here until they come out. That way, they won't see anyone following them out of the market. Then, when they pull out, we'll follow them at a safe distance."

"That makes sense," I allowed, not totally willing to let her off the hook just yet.

She, of course, wasn't buying my act. "Of course it does," she replied, giving me her own version of a cheeky grin before sliding her glasses back to their customary position and turning forward once again.

Still, her warm hand lay comfortable on my thigh, and when I reached down and covered it with my own (as if I could help myself) she squeezed our fingers gently together, and all was pretty much alright with my world.

We didn't have all that long to wait before the two men cleared the gate and started heading for their car, followed by several merchants each toting boxes full of goods. The car in question was a long sedan which was likely black, but currently sported a reddish-yellow covering of desert dust. Parked among a bevy of bastardized trucks and cars whose showroom dates were no later than the nineteen seventies, it stuck out like a hammer-smashed grasping appendage.

Within minutes, the merchants had finished placing their boxes in the back seat and trunk of the car and were summarily waved off by the two men without so much as a "by your leave", as far as I could tell.

The men got into their car and were off in a spray of gravel and dust.

A moment later, Ice started up the car and pulled in behind several other shoppers who were heading toward home after a long day of bargaining. She'd taken the radios from both of the police cruisers before they shuffled off to auto heaven, and had reinstalled them in the two cars we now used. Unhooking the mike, she depressed the button as we drove at medium speed down a straight-as-an-arrow two lane highway, following a short convoy of cars and light trucks. "You there?"

"Yeah." came Rio's voice over the radio.

"How'd it go?"

"They were the bait, alright. Led us on a good chase, but I backed off before it became too obvious. Heading back to you now."

"We're on our way out now, headed west toward the mountains. We're about two miles out."

"I'll continue on and swing in behind you, then."

"Alright. We're following a black sedan, two men inside."

"Will do. Out."

Racking the mike, Ice put both her hands on the wheel and raced the winter sun as it began its slow, meandering trek westward toward the mountain ranges in the near distance.

Conversation, what there was of it, was sparse, and I spent some time silently thanking Ice for sending Nia with Rio. Forty-five minutes into the trip, I saw Rio's beaten beige sedan pass us in the opposite direction, then U-turn across the highway and slide in behind the line of cars heading to the west.

We continued on for maybe another half-hour when Ice's radio crackled with an incoming call. Rio's urgent voice came over the speaker. "Shit. I know where he's going. Follow me."

As Ice slowed down, Rio crossed on a dotted yellow and slipped in front of our car. Up ahead and to the left, there was a turnoff, and when Rio signaled, Ice followed behind a line of two or three other cars and turned as well, leaving the rest of the unintentional caravan to continue on, still led by Cavallo's men.

We were in the foothills, and as the cars in front of Rio's continued forward, Rio herself pulled off , her front bumper almost touching the rocky hill which sprung up in front of us like a shark fin in an otherwise calm, if rather dirty, ocean.

The car hadn't even stopped rolling before she jumped out and sprinted up the rocky side of the hill (more like a small mountain, really) at a speed far quicker that one would think a body that large could possibly go.

Nia exited more slowly, simply staring up the mountain and the quickly retreating form of Rio with open-mouthed shock.

After pulling up along side the parked car, Ice exited at a more leisurely pace, but once she was free and clear, she went up after Rio, catching up to her rather quickly despite the other woman's rather large lead.

"Up?" Pony asked me, eyebrows raised.

"Up," I replied, already taking off.

"Figures," she muttered, climbing next to me with Critter and Nia joining in the chase.

The route to the top was steep, the footing very unsteady, and by the time I made it up, I was breathing heavily and bathed in a fine layer of sweat. I was inwardly pleased, however, to note that both Pony and Critter were both more winded than I, while Nia was still struggling to the top, her face florid and wet with sweat.