Midnight Jewels

backward as he lost his balance under the impact. The gun in his hand went off and Mercy thought that this time she would lose her hearing, the sound was so close and so loud.
    Without any warning Croft was there, materializing in the alley behind Dallas as the other man floundered in an effort to keep his balance. Dallas seemed to sense that he suddenly had another enemy in the small space besides Mercy. He swung around awkwardly, trying to bring the nose of the gun up to aim at Croft, but it was too late. Croft was already reaching out for him.
    Mercy was watching the whole thing, but later she couldn't describe what happened. One instant the man in front of her was trying to aim a gun at Croft, the next Dallas was lying in an unconscious sprawl on the cold ground.
    Croft stood quietly, his bare feet slightly spread in a balanced stance, his hands at his side. He glanced down at the man on the ground and then looked at Mercy.
    "Are you all right?" Croft asked, his words unnaturally even.
    Mercy gasped for breath and nodded, staring at him. "What about you?"
    "It's cold out here."
    He appeared vaguely surprised, as if he were noticing the mountain chill for the first time. Mercy glanced down at his bare feet.
    "Yes," she said. "It's cold." But the shiver that went through her had nothing to do with the mountain air.
    "You should have stayed in that shack where I left you." There was no masculine outrage or chiding complaint in the words; no male fury over disobeyed orders. There was no emotion whatsoever. There was only perfect calm.
    Mercy wasn't sure how to respond. She wasn't being chastised, so there was no reason to launch into a passionate self-defense, although that was her first instinct. She wanted to scream at Croft in an effort to break through the unnatural serenity that gripped him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and be soothed and comforted while she offered soothing comfort in return. She wanted to hear him chew her out for having disobeyed his orders so she could have the release of yelling back at him.
    The potent cocktail created in her bloodstream by the aftermath of violence was causing her to tremble with reaction. She wanted to seize Croft and shake him while she pointed out that although this might be a normal occurrence for him, it certainly was not for her. She craved some sort of emotional explosion, needed it to use up the nervous energy flooding her system.
    But one look at Croft's remote, too-serene expression was enough to keep Mercy still. Somehow it seemed futile to use emotion of any kind as a weapon against such an impregnable fortress of self-contained isolation. She hardly knew this man.
    Croft went down on one knee beside the unconscious Dallas. He started going through his victim's pockets. The process was a curiously detached one, methodical and totally without emotion.
    "I think we'd better get out of here," Mercy offered tentatively. She found herself groping helplessly for words as she tried to communicate with the stranger in front of her.
    "Yes," he agreed, pulling Dallas' wallet out of a back pocket. He flipped it open.
    "What are you looking for?" Mercy whispered.
    Croft didn't bother to respond. He was slipping a credit card out of its plastic envelope. He picked up the flashlight and used it to glance at the name on the card.
    "Well, I'm glad to know you have some normal human limitations," Mercy heard herself mutter before she stopped to think. "I was beginning to think you might even be able to read in the dark."
    Croft glanced up. "This credit card doesn't belong to Dallas."
    She frowned. "Whose is it?"
    "My guess is that it came from the wallet of one of the guests in that motel we stayed in on the way to Gladstone's."
    Mercy's eyes widened. She crouched down to look at the card. The name etched in plastic was Michael J. Farrington. "You don't think Farrington is just Dallas' real name?"
    Croft pulled out another card. "This one's in the name of one Andrew G. Barnes. I'll bet Gladstone would be furious if he knew his hired muscle had stashed a little on the side for himself after that robbery. Dallas and Lance were probably supposed to get rid of all the evidence, but they were too greedy to dump the credit cards."
    Mercy nodded. "As long as they keep purchases under a certain minimum, they can use the cards a long time without anyone checking for authorization. You've made your point, Croft," Mercy said ruefully as she got to her feet. "It's probably