Raven's Prey

on, Honor, it’s getting late. Let’s go.”
    “No, please!”
    But he was already on his feet, drawing her up beside him. Throwing a handful of pesos down on the table, Judd Raven turned and led Honor out of the smoky cantina and into the balmy Mexican night. Instinctively Honor tried to fight the steady, inexorable grasp on her wrist but he simply ignored her efforts as he started down the dusty street. After a moment it was obvious he knew where she lived, and Honor felt a new rush of despair. He must have asked about her before locating her in the cantina.
    “Won’t you at least listen to me?” she pleaded as he led her down the nearly silent street to the small cottage she had rented from the woman who owned the cantina. Aside from the crowd in the tavern there was very little sign of life at this hour. This was a farming community and most people were in bed early. The lack of electricity in many of the homes did not encourage late hours, either.
    “In the morning.” Judd sighed. “I really don’t feel like listening to fairy tales tonight. I’ve had a long, hard day.”
    Something about the way he said that told Honor there was no hope of ever getting him to listen to her side of the matter. As far as Judd Raven was concerned he had accepted a job and would see it through to the end. It undoubtedly suited him to know as little as possible about the details of a situation like this, Honor realized bitterly. He simply wanted to collect his pay and go on to the next job.
    If there was no hope of talking her way out of the situation then she really had no alternative but to use the gun. The thought of the deadly little weapon lying in the drawer beside her bed brought little comfort. In her heart of hearts she had prayed she would never have to use it. What was it going [_to _]be like, aiming that thing at another human being? Especially a human being who was only a tool, not the real source of danger? Would she really be able to pull the trigger if Judd Raven challenged her? He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would bluff very easily.
    But she had no choice. She had only herself to rely on. If Honor didn’t defend herself, no one would. Lifting her chin, she straightened her shoulders and began to deliberately summon the land of resolve [_it would _]take to remove the wicked little gun from the bedside drawer.
    Her cottage was one of the more comfortable structures in town. It was blessed with a naked light bulb which dangled precariously [_from _]the ceiling, a very old bathroom and a small electric burner. Other than the bathroom there was only one room, which served as both living room and bedroom. The few pieces of furniture were threadbare and dilapidated.
    “You’ve been living here for four weeks?” Judd asked as he stepped through the door and scanned the stark interior. “I should think you’d be more than ready to go home by now!”
    “Nobody’s asking you to spend the night here,” she muttered tightly, her eyes straying quickly to the night-stand beside the single bed. “Perhaps you’d rather sleep in your plane?” she added icily.
    “No, thanks. I’ve slept in worse places than this. I just [_have _]a hard time imagining you being content here. It’s hardly Acapulco!”
    “But, then, you don’t really know me, do you?” she shot back, freeing her wrist to walk restlessly across the small room. She stood staring out the uncurtained window, her back toward the tall, dark man behind her. “You don’t know me at all.”
    There was a strange silence and then Judd said quietly, “You forget I’ve not only been told a great deal about you but I’ve been looking at that damned photograph your father gave me for a solid week.”
    She swung around angrily. “The photograph! What the hell can you learn from a picture?”
    “Not much, apparently,” he retorted unconcernedly. “Based on that photo I would have said you were a different sort of person than your father and brother described. In fact, when I first saw you in that cantina tonight I would have said you were… Never mind. You’re just not quite what I had imagined. Which only goes to show,” he went on carelessly, examining the bed, “how deceptive appearances can be.”
    “Somehow I get the impression your appearance isn’t deceptive in the least,” Honor gritted. “You look exactly like you seem to be. A cold, hard, inhuman man who’s only interested in collecting his pay for this dirty little