He had her pinned. He looked directly into her eyes and she read everything.
Your skills are spectacular and I’d rather not kill you on that alone, but you tried to hurt something I love and I can’t let that stand.
Part of her brain was contemplating how a man she’d pegged as a stone-cold killer (and since he was about to kill her, she was pretty sure she’d pegged him right) could be so goddamn expressive.
The other part of her brain was wondering what it was he loved that she’d tried to harm.
“Mr. Reese,” a familiar voice said, “She’s not an enemy.”
There was a pause, in which her uncle’s voice almost overrode all of the man’s obvious training. Uncle Harry had said it was safe, and apparently the man, like Root, knew that Uncle Harry couldn’t be anything but correct in most cases.
He held steady, and growled, “She tried to kill you. If she’s not an enemy, who the hell is she?”
“She’s my niece,” Uncle Harry said dryly, and with a hint of a smile, Root thought. “Trying to kill me is how she says hello.”
“You know me so well, Uncle Harry,” Root purred, “That’s why you’re my favorite.”
Mr. Reese gave her a flat look that informed her he did not have a problem shooting her and would do so without compunction if she made a wrong move because Uncle Harold wouldn’t fire him unless he actually killed her.
How? Root thought again. Those eyes. No wonder he’d caught Uncle Harry’s attention. He did tend to collect all the rarest editions for himself.