Her automatic was in the other hand, pointed out, though not at anyone in particular.She let the breath out slowly as the door creaked open. Kris did everything slowly as she tried to let her stomach . . . and her trigger finger . . . catch up. She’d been alert but confident, then suddenly switched to ready for deadly action. Now there was a guy standing there as casual as could be asking for a few words with Kris as nonchalantly as some girls asked for her autograph.Kris’s neck was definitely putting in for whiplash compensation.“Since you know my name, would you mind telling me yours?” Kris said as she put one foot on the pavement.“Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I’m Manuel Artamus. My friends call me Mannie. I’m the mayor of Sevastopol. At least that’s what they’ve been calling me since all hell broke out a few months ago.”“I think I’m glad to meet you,” Kris said, stepping away from the truck.“Good,” Mannie said, then raised his voice just a bit. “Guys, gals, let’s put the guns away.
