ed at Cade for a moment, then asked in a way
that sounded more like a discovery, "You really aren't trying to manipulate me,
are you?"
"Nope. You're Mandi Steele, the woman who can juggle cars and shrug off
big-assed explosions. You don't need me or any man to escort you to a taco
factory. Or anywhere else."
"What if I simply asked you politely to come with me?"
"Then you'd be trying to manipulate me at this point in things. Same answer.
Same reasons."
"You're only leaving me with the choice of going to the Mexican restaurant
or going with you. Isn't that manipulation?"
"No, that's just self defense. There's a third option. You can just do what
you want and not worry about whether anybody's getting the upper hand or how
things look to the natives."
After another moment of regarding him, Mandi chuckled and said, "The funny
thing is; talking about Mexican food made me think about it. Now I really do
want some."
With a short sigh and a nod, she said, "Ohhkaay. I'll find you in a little
while," and headed for the Mexican place.
Cade watched her go for a moment, then began walking toward the street. As
he reached the other side of the highway, a blue, late-model car full of people
cruised past, abruptly made a U-turn, and headed back.
It screeched to a stop a few feet from Cade and all the doors opened at once
as six young men of various colors got out and spread out to surround him.
The guy who'd lost his knife to Cade earlier was among them. His forearm was
bound tightly with a sports wrap bandage and he tried not to move it much.
"That's not good enough," said Cade, pointing at the elastic bandaging.
"You'll need a cast."
The injured guy said, "Watch out. He's got a gun."
"Fuck his gun," said the apparent leader of the mob, ambling up to Cade. "He
won't try nothin' 'cuz he know they ain't no way he can take us all."
The guy's left hand remained behind him as he approached. Whatever he held
was heavy enough to make the muscles of his forearm stand out. Likely a gun.
Cade said, "Five guys and a scared cripple. Could be you need a little more
help."
One guy laughed and another one simply glared at Cade as the others hung
back a bit and waited for their leader's commands.
"Oooo, he be a bad-ass!" cackled the laugher.
The leader showed his left hand, which he'd been keeping behind his back. In
it was a black Taurus 92F autopistol.