Beat up by Harry again

The guy tried to get up, but I slammed my forearm into the back of his head a few times, bouncing his face against the asphalt. He was tough. The blows slowed him down, but he started moving again and suddenly twisted with the sinuous strength of a serpent. I went to one side; he got out from under me and immediately leapt for the fence.
He jumped four or five feet up and started climbing. I pointed my blasting rod at the top of the fence, drew in my will and snarled, "Fuego."
Fire lashed across the top of the fence, bright and hot enough that the suddenly expanding air roared like a crack of thunder. Metal near the top of the fence glowed red, running into liquid a few feet above the man's head. Droplets pattered down like Hell's own rain.
The man cried out in shock or pain and let go of the fence. I beat him about the head and shoulders with my blasting rod when he did, the heavy wood serving admirably as a baton. The second or third blow stunned him, and I got the blasting rod across his neck in a choke, locked one of his arms behind him with a move Murphy had taught me, and pinned his face against the fence with my full weight.
"Hold still," I snarled. Bits of molten wire slithered down the chain link fence toward the ground. "Hold still or I'll hold your face there until it melts off."
He tried to struggle free. He was strong, but I had all the leverage, so that didn't mean much. Thank you, Murphy. I wrenched his trapped arm up until he gasped with pain. I snarled, "Hold. Still."
"Jesus Christ," Thomas stammered, his voice pained. He ceased struggling and lifted his other hand in surrender. Recognizing the voice, I could place his profile too. "Harry, it's me."
I scowled at him and pulled harder on his arm.
"Ow," he gasped. "Dresden, what are you doing? Let go. It's me."
I growled at him and did, shoving him hard against the fence and standing up.
Thomas rose slowly, turning to me with his hands lifted. "Thanks, man. I didn't mean to surprise you like-"
I hit him solidly in the nose with my right fist.
I think it was the surprise as much as the blow that knocked him onto his ass. He sat there with his hands covering his face and stared up at me.
I drew up my blasting rod and readied another lash of flame. The tip of the rod glowed with a cinder-red glow of light barely a foot from Thomas's face. His normally pale face was ashen, his expression was startled, and his mouth was stained with blood. "Harry-" he began.

Blood Rites Chapter 14, Page 110-111


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."

Blood Rites Chapter 15, Page 113