Tony grunted and felt himself being pushed off as she tucked a knee under his abdomen. His grip on her other wrist faded and he was down on his back once more.
Just like last time, Emma was holding the fireplace poker. She licked her lips, chuckled, and raised the metal rod above her like the hammer of Thor.
“Hold it!” a voice called, deep and loud and clear. “Emma, drop your weapon.”
She lowered the poker slightly and did a half-turn.
“Hello, Avis,” she said. “It’s been a long time since we really got to talk.”
Tony spotted Jackson at the doorway, his hands locked around a pistol he kept pointed at Emma’s head. The cool in his eyes had thawed. His too-large forehead reminded Tony of the lid of a bubbling pot. He had no clue what the detective would do next.