Fiona Glenanne had a gamin appearance. Her slender form, flowing hair, wide eyes and high cheekbones all conspired against those who might sell her short, or take her at face value. There were men who’d dismissed her for being delicate, and therefore, no threat at all.
Michael knew better. Fi’s waifish appearance was a deception, as much as her American accent. She was a little Irish hellcat. Fi could take on men twice her size – and barely have a hair out of place afterward. The power of her punches and kicks shocked when she struck, and her ability to shoot put her at sniper levels. Her driving would put a bootlegger to shame, and her explosions – whether personal, or from her continuing arsenal – were always exciting.
It really made him glad she was on his side.