Distracted at gunpoint

The first thought that went through my mind was something like, Wow her voice is hot. The second was, How the hell did she catch up to us so quickly?
Oh, and somewhere in there the practical side of me chimed in with, It would be bad to get shot.
What came out of my mouth was, "Is your last name really Romany?"
I didn't hear any footsteps, but her voice came from closer when she answered. "It was my married name. Briefly. Now please step away from my little brother."
Hell's bells, she was his sister! Familial dementia. She might not react rationally to a threat. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that under the circumstances, I'd be an idiot to push Lara Raith. "I assume that when I do, you'll lower the guns?"
"Assume instead that if you don't, I'll shoot you dead."
"Oh, for the love of God." Thomas sighed. "Lara, would you relax? We were just talking."
She clucked her teeth, a sound of almost maternal disapproval. "Tommy, Tommy. When you say ridiculous things like that, I have to keep reminding myself that my baby brother isn't as large an idiot as you would like us all to believe."
"Oh, come on," Thomas said. "This is a waste of time."
"Shut up," I said with an ungracious waggle of the blasting rod. I looked over my shoulder at Lara. She was wearing black lacy things with stockings and heels-
(How the hell had she caught up to us in the freaking heels? Even for a wizard, some things are simply beyond belief.)
-  and she held a pair of pretty little guns in her hands. They probably weren't packing the high-caliber ammunition of heavier weapons, but even baby bullets could kill me just fine. She held them like she knew what she was doing, and sauntered closer through the heavy shadows, her skin luminous. And showing. And really gorgeous.
I gritted my teeth and beat back the sudden urge to taste-test the curvy dents in her stomach and thighs, and kept the blasting rod lit and pointing at Thomas. "Back off, toots. Put the guns down, stop with the come-hither whammy, and we can talk."
She stopped between one step and the next, a faintly troubled expression on her face. She narrowed her eyes, and her voice slid through the air like honey and heroin. "What did you say?"
I fought off the pressure of that voice and growled, "Back. Off." My inner Quixote was not to be entirely denied though, and I added, "Please."
She stared at me for a moment, and then blinked her eyes slowly, as if seeing me for the first time. "Empty night," she murmured, her tone one of someone speaking an oath. "You're Harry Dresden."
"Don't feel bad. I cleverly concealed my identity as Harry the Production Assistant."
She pursed her lips (which also looked delicious) and said, "Why are you threatening my brother?"


Blood Rites Chapter 15, Page 113