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Stepping away from her he said, “What are you doing with these?”
She blinked at him, reality returning, and she saw the batteries she’d had clenched in her fist now in his hand. Straightening her shoulders, her chin inched up. The soft lips he’d kissed a moment before compressed into a hard line. She lunged for him, her breasts colliding with solid muscle of his chest when he twisted, throwing his hand up where she couldn’t reach it.
He repeated his question.
She pulled her knife and stepped back, placing her feet for better balance. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she said.
Jori had traveled long and far enough to know that anyone who carried a weapon, likely knew how to use it. “Just tell me what you want with the batteries from my equipment.”
Her fierce scowl deepened, “I will protect my people any way I have to. I don’t want to have to kill you, but I will.”
“You’d kill me over camera batteries?”
Her nod was sharp, and she shifted the knife in her hand, drawing his attention.
Was his life worth the batteries? The batteries meant his ability to record. If he couldn’t record anything the entire excursion was a waste of time and resources.
He stared at her. And it was then he knew, absolutely, there was something here. No one would react the way she was if there weren’t.
His mother’s words drifted back to him—there’s always another way to achieve a goal.
Lowering his hand, he held it out to her, open palm up.
Her eyes flicked between his hand and his face then snatched and threw them as hard as she could into the ocean.
He cringed, knowing what that would do to the immediate environment.
Kymri’s posture relaxed, then she sheathed her knife.
Jori walked over the to the equipment boxes, looking in each one. At least she hadn’t damaged the units themselves. Later he’d move the memory cards into sealed cases and slip them under the foam casing. He wouldn’t tell her she hadn’t taken all of the batteries, there were spares still in the plane.
Threat removed, her demeanor changed. “Tell me more of yourself and where you come from,” she said, as though there hadn’t been a sharp blade between them moments before.
“Well, uh... What do you want to know?”
She thought a moment for a specific question, “Where is your home?”
“I have a condo in Philly, for now, and a cottage up at Lac L’Achigan in Canada, but I don’t spend much time at either.”
“You don’t have a regular home?”
He shrugged, “Haven’t really found the right place that felt like a home. I’m used to being on the move.”
“I couldn’t imagine that.”
So, she clearly was deeply rooted. No wonder she was willing to cut him to defend it from what she thought was some kind of a threat.
“Tell me something of your home.”
Her gaze shot to his face, studying him. “It is a good place to live. We work hard to keep it going.” She considered him again, “What is your role?”
“My role? What I do for work?”
She nodded.
“As I said before, I’m a documenter. I travel the world visiting new and unusual places, recording each excursion. With the material I gather I make documentaries for people to watch and publish companion books with the photos and essays.”
“That doesn’t sound very difficult or practical.”
