Levi could be some kind of cold-blooded killer as well as a superhuman healing machine. And here she was, going into a barn with him.
But she didn't think so. When it came to men, her judgment didn't exactly have the world's greatest track record, but she was good at steering clear of the guys who were really bad news-the ones who hit girls or got into serious kinds of trouble, dealing hard drugs or boosting cars for cash or doing dirty work for anybody.
Killing girls in barns would definitely fall into that category, and though she barely knew him, she couldn't believe that Levi was that type. After all, he'd stopped the car because he was afraid she'd hurt herself.
And anyway, at least she still had her knife.
Levi returned to the car, started it, and let the transmission's idling speed roll it into the shadows of the barn in first gear.
The interior was dark except for the big rectangle of sun from the door and the thin lines of daylight that gilded the cracks between every board in the upper levels of the barn. A massive pile of tools and the skeletons of old furniture leaned in a tangle against one wall, taking up a third of the interior. The rest of the vast, echoing space was empty, waiting for the harvest.
"You gonna close it for me?" Levi asked, cutting the engine.
Harper realized that he meant the door. Right. He wasn't going to take off without her from inside the barn, and she certainly wasn't going to trick him into leaving the keys in it, so why not?
She rolled her eyes at him but unbuckled and got out, walking through the haze of dust that danced in the yellow block of light. Harper reached the door and squinted at the horizon. The sun was high overhead, glaring down on the fields and the distant ribbon of the road, where a single car glinted on its way south.
She pulled one door, and it moved easily on its rail. A few seconds' effort brought them together. She returned to the car in the sudden dimness and bent down at the driver's side window, resting her forearms on the edge of the door.
"Now what, Superman?" she asked.
He narrowed his eyes, taking her in with a long look that lingered on her cleavage. "I thought I was Wolverine."
"Well, you certainly aren't Batman," she said. "When he's hit by a bullet, he keeps bleeding."
"I'm not telling you a thing, babycakes, so you can stop fishing." He pulled out a cell phone and waved it at her. "And what happens now is that I have a little chat with my friend. In private."