Eye of the Beholder

make it last a little longer as he escorted Alexa out of the restaurant.
    The warm, velvety darkness of the desert night settled over them.
    He wondered what Alexa was thinking. Covertly he studied her as they walked between the rows of cars in the club's dimly lit parking lot.
    The handkerchief points of her weightless little blue-green silk dress floated around the elegant curves of her calves. He had been studying the garment all evening, wondering if it was really a slip or a sexy nightgown in disguise. It had tiny little straps and it was cut so that it skimmed over her high, apple-shaped breasts and elegant thighs.
    It was exactly the sort of dress a woman could wear to descend the staircase in his new hotel.
    The high heels of her strappy sandals clicked on the parking lot pavement. The sleek, sophisticated curve of her bobbed hair swung forward, just past the high arch of her cheekbones, partially veiling her face.
    She appeared to be lost in deep, mysterious female thoughts. He wanted to haul her back out of that dark pool and get her to focus on him again as she had during dinner. But he had no inkling of how to go about it.
    He wondered if she considered the evening a total waste because he hadn't confided any of the substantive details of his plans.
    Alexa halted without any warning. Her eyes widened. "Trask, your Jeep."
    The shock in her voice got his full attention. He looked at the Jeep, which was parked between a BMW and a mammoth SUV. There was something wrong with the way the light hit the front windshield. Then he saw the web of glittering glass shards.
    "My insurance company is not going to be thrilled."
    "Trask." Alexa's voice was infused with shocked urgency. "Behind you."
    He heard the soft thud of heavy-soled boots on the pavement and turned quickly.
    They exploded out of the dark void between parked cars: two men dressed in denim shirts, jeans, and ski masks. One of them carried a length of metal. The tire iron that had been used on the Jeep's windshield, Trask thought.
    He had only a fleeting second to contemplate the incongruity of ski masks in the desert before they dosed in.
    "Get out of here, Alexa . Run, damn it."
    He saw her mouth open on a scream that was probably meant to summon help. The man in the red ski mask seized her from behind, threw an arm around her throat, and hauled her back against his chest.
    The second man, the one in a blue mask, came straight at Trask, tire iron raised.
    "You're lucky," Blue Mask snarled. "Tonight all you get is a warning and a little something to think about."
    He swung the metal rod in an arc intended to connect with Trask's ribs.
    There was something to be said for having worked heavy construction to pay his way through college and to support Nathan for a few years, Trask decided. Life occasionally got rough on job sites. He had broken up more than one fight in the past, had more than one enraged combatant turn on him in frustration.
    He leaped back. Heard the whoosh of air as the tire iron skimmed past, inches from his rib cage.
    "Listen up," Blue Mask said, dancing closer. "You're not wanted here in Avalon. Understand?"
    "Who sent you to tell me that?" Trask moved back into the narrow space between the Jeep and the BMW. "Guthrie?"
    "All you need to know is that you're supposed to go back to Seattle ." Blue Mask advanced, coming forward between the two vehicles.
    He raised the tire iron again and brought it down in a savage motion.
    Trask was already moving. He vaulted up onto the hood of the Jeep. There was another rush of air as the tire iron whizzed past his thigh.
    He heard the crack of metal on metal, knew that the tire iron had collided with the Jeep's fender. Irresistible force meeting immovable object.
    Blue Mask grunted in pain and staggered under the jolt. Trask launched himself from the hood of the Jeep before the thug could recover.
    He dropped straight down on Blue Mask. The weight of his body carried them both to the pavement. Blue Mask, however, was on the bottom. He took the brunt of the impact.
    It probably did not help that his head struck the Jeep's fender a glancing blow on the way down, Trask thought.
    Blue Mask lay stunned and unmoving. Trask grabbed the tire iron.
    " Sig ?" Red Mask sounded alarmed. " Sig , what the fuck is going on? Finish it, man, or I'm gonna get outta here. The bitch is too much trouble."
    Trask got to his feet and moved out of the dark place between the Jeep and the BMW.
    "Your friend decided to take a