He'd been 12 the last time he was aware Killer had to play hard-to-get, and it wasn't because she enjoyed the game, but because Kidd had cut his leg in the scrapyard and the infection was starting to spread. She'd smiled softly to the men, batted her lashes, teased and flirted and toyed with them until she had been sure that Kidd would be provided for; left Kidd holding the coin when she'd lead them away to a back room or alley.