No surprise there, Blu thought. He'd lived in Algiers all of his life. For the past twenty-five years his parents had owned duFray Fish, the fresh-fish market on Front Street. Then there was his stint with Patch Pollaro as hired muscle, not to mention last year's "heroic deed" that had gained him an altogether new fan base. h.e.l.l, yes, people knew him for one reason or another.

"Now what?" Blu forced his attention away from her s.e.xy mouth. "What's next? You going to shoot me?"

"Not unless you do something stupid." She slipped the photo back into her pocket. "Show me your left hand."

The request had Blu arching his heavy black brows. "My hand?"

"Do it!" She motioned with the gun to encourage him.

Blu raised his hand for her to inspect.

"Turn it over."

He rolled it palm-side up.

"Nothing," she whispered, and a little sigh of relief followed. Then she closed her eyes and lowered the gun.

Surprised, but never one to let that cloud his judgment, Blu jumped at the opportunity to disarm her. He surged forward, but his boots sc.r.a.ping over the brick courtyard gave away his intentions. She blinked open her eyes, shook off whatever had come over her and quickly raised the derringer. "Get back!"

"Take it easy." Blu raised his hands. "Put the d.a.m.n gun down, church mouse, before you drill me without meaning to. That thing wasn't meant to be waved around like a flyswatter. They usually have a hair trigger."

"Then I suggest you tell me what you know about Salvador Maland, or you just might end up a dead fly and tomorrow's news."

"I already told you, I don't know anyone by that name."

"How can you not know someone who has a ten-by-twelve of you in his office?"

Blu shrugged. "Maybe he likes my face." "I don't think you understand. I'm talking tenfeet by twelvefeet. Your face covers the entire wall inSalva's office."

That was the weirdest thing Blu had heard in a long time. So weird, in fact, he sifted the man's name through his memory bank once more. But it still didn'tproduce a familiar face. There was a chance he'd dealt with the man indirectly while working for Patch, but to chase down the name he would have to pay his old boss a visit.

"This picture of me, the one on this guy's wall, is it recent?"

"It's the same one I showed you." She eyed his s.h.a.ggy black hair, which was a couple inches shorter, but still past his collar. "Please, this is very important." "Can you refresh my memory?" Maybe it was the desperate look she was giving him that had made him ask. But more likely it was that d.a.m.n mouth of hers-she had the sweetest little lips he'd ever seen.

"How about telling me how this guy and I might have met?" His innocent question upset her. She waved the gun at him again. "Refresh your memory? Ha! How can I do that when I can't even refresh my own? You're the one who's supposed to be filling in the blanks here, not me. I traveled all the way from..." She clamped her mouth shut, aware she was on the verge of revealing too much.

"From where?" Blu prompted. She wiped at the corner of one of her big brown eyes. "Never mind where." Blu realized she was fighting tears. "Listen,fille, maybe if you put the gun down we could talk this over." "There's nothing to talk over if you don't knowSalva or ... Kristen Harris." She swore softly. "This has all been for nothing. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Put the gun down."

Blu watched as she lowered the gun. Then, just as quickly, she raised it again. "I put the gun down and

then we both walk away, right?"

Blu's answer didn't come quick enough. "That's what I thought. You're not going to let me walk away, are you? Another big man with a big ego. How could I be so lucky?" "Put the gun down," Blu growled in a bigger voice than before.

Defiantly she gripped the gun in both hands and took aim at his head. "I don't think so. I think you should strip,Blu Devil."

"What?" Blu was sure he hadn't heard her right.

"I said, take off your clothes."

"A nun demanding I get naked? That's a first."

"It's not for the reason you think. I'm not dying to get a look at ... at Harvey, or whatever you've named it. That look you gave me a minute ago suggests I won't get a block before you come after me. So I'm taking your clothes for insurance."

She was right about him going after her. No one pulled a gun on the Blu Devil, then walked without paying for the privilege.

"Start with your boots."

"Or you'll shoot me?"

She smiled then, a s.e.xy little smile that showed off pearly white teeth. "At this close range, I think I can hit what I'm aiming at. Don't you?" She took aim at Harvey. "How much do you enjoy being a man, Blu Devil?"

Not as coolly as he would have liked, Blu said, "No complaints."

"Then I suggest you protect your a.s.sets by pulling off your boots." To prove she meant business, she tugged back the hammer.

"Bon Dieu, fille.You don't want to do this," Blu warned. "I never forget a wrong. Never."

"I believe you're a man who means what he says, but I don't have a choice. Your boots, Blu Devil."

Swearing, Blu leaned against the brick wall and removed his left boot. Next, he pulled the right one. But

just as he was setting it down, he dropped to his knees and hurled the number twelve at the nun's outstretched arm. The gun discharged as it hit the concrete, the bullet ricocheting off the bricks in the narrow courtyard like a Ping-Pong ball. On instinct he drove forward, snagged the nun by her long black skirt and dragged her down.

It was all over within a few hairy seconds, or so Blu thought until the church mouse hefted the boot that lay within arm's reach and clouted him alongside the temple with enough force to cause him to see stars.

Chapter 3.

^ "You say she was wearing nun's clothes, but you don't think she was a nun?" Blu turned from the window in the New Orleans Police Department and gazed a Ryland Archard, one of the NOPD's most respected homicide detectives. "I don't think too many nuns pack heat, do you, Ry?"

"She had a gun?"

"A fancy little .22 derringer. A specialty piece with a pearl handle."

"A nun with a gut warmer. That's a first for me."

"For me, too."

Blu saw the amus.e.m.e.nt in his brother-in-law's eyes. He knew how ridiculous it all sounded. He also

knew what a slim chance he had of finding the gutsy littlefille. But he was determined to try. He'd wrestled with the idea the entire night. Those d.a.m.n eyes and her dainty pink mouth had kept him awake; that, and the headache she'd given him by crashing his own d.a.m.n boot into his skull.

True, he was curious as to why Salvador Maland had put his face on an entire wall in his office, but that wasn't the primary reason why he'd shown up in Ry's office first thing this morning. Something important was driving thatfille, something powerful enough to make her dress up in nun's garb and pull a gun on him. She'd been scared to death, and still she'd stood her ground.

Blu wanted to know why. "I want you to help me find her." There, he'd said it. He'd asked his brother-in-law for help. "Did I hear right? You wantmy help?" The smug look on Ry's face was followed by an open-faced grin. Blu swore crudely."Oui, you heard me. I've already cleared it with Brodie. I'm taking time off work and he's agreed to do double duty until I

get back." Ry's grin faded. "You've never taken a day off in your life. Well, not willingly anyway. Speaking of time off, Margo and I are headed for Texas for two weeks. She wants to meet my parents and brother."

"When?"

"We leave tomorrow."

"Your timing stinks." Blu saw the way Ry's brow arched. "Okay, so I was expecting more than just a

little help. I know this isn't your field of expertise, but I really need to find this girl."

"If it's that important, I'll get in touch with Jackson. He can follow it up on this end."

Jackson Ward was Ryland's rebel partner-the loose cannon of the outfit. A man who was on

suspension more than he was on duty because he didn't go by the book on anything.

"So Jackson's working?" Blu asked. "Last time we talked he was on suspension."

"He was just reinstated yesterday."

"That won't last long."

"It never does," Ryland agreed. "But when he's working, he's the best there is."

"I thought you were the best. That's what the paper claims." "And we know that every word the paper prints is gospel, right,hero?" Reminded of the hara.s.sment he'd endured over the past year due tofreedom of the press over his "heroic deed," Blu snorted.

"So Brodie's willing to wrangle with Spoon Thompson on your behalf for a few days? That should be worth a front-row seat." Blu grimaced."Oui. Those two are about as agreeable as two cottonmouths fighting over the same rat.

No, Brodie's not too happy about me taking time off, but he's a good friend." "He proved it last year," Ryland agreed. "Not too many men I know would have lived through the beating he took from Denoux's men to protect you and Margo. No, Brodie Hewitt is a good man. Though I would certainly like to know where he calls home. No one seems to know his story. A man who keeps himself a mystery is a man who usually has something to hide." Blu remained silent. He knew Brodie's story, but he'd sworn to keep it to himself. When Brodie was ready to deal with his past, he'd head home. But until then, Blu would value Brodie's friendship and the big guy's loyalty to the duFray Devils. "Do you think this girl has something to do with your pal, Patch? You made quite a few enemies when you were working for him. Maybe she wants revenge for some old, unsettled score." "Then why didn't she just shoot me? She had plenty of time if that's what she wanted." Blu walked away from the window and the warmth of the morning sun and sat on the chair in front of Ry's desk. "She asked me if I knew a man named Salvador Maland. She seemed to think I should. And when I said I didn't, she called me a liar." "You're sure youdon't know him?" "I don't think so. Does the name mean anything to you?" "Not offhand." "She had the d.a.m.nedest eyes," Blu mused, still unable to forget their warm color, or her s.e.xy little mouth. "This is personal, then?" "h.e.l.l, yes, it's personal. d.a.m.n personal whenafille you've never seen before points a gun at your nuts and threatens to blow them off." Grinning, Ry said, "Sure would have made a h.e.l.luva headline for theTimes-Picayune." Blu evil-eyed Ry. "The girl pulled a gun on me and you're making jokes." "You make it sound like it was the first time you've ever looked down the barrel of a gun."

"It was with a youngfille backing it. Claiming to be a nun, no less." "Is that what's bothering you, that it was a woman?" "You're not listening. She was little." Blu held up his hand. "About this big." "So she's maybe five four, not a woman, and not a nun?" Blu swore and was halfway out of his chair when Ry pulled a notepad from his drawer and said, "Not so fast. Give me some facts."

Blu eased back down onto the chair. "You mean, a description?"

"Yeah. What did she look like? What was the color of those d.a.m.nedest eyes?"

"Brown. Soft brown."

"Hair?"

"Didn't see it."

"You said she's young?"

"Real young. Eighteen at the most. And she's..." He held up his hand again. "Five feet, four inches