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The tone of Dawson’s voice told me something was wrong. Crisco had stopped walking and was currently staring right at me. His eyebrows narrowed.
“I think we’re made.”
“How?” I murmured, more to myself than anyone. “He doesn’t know me. He’s never even seen m—”
Crisco suddenly bolted, making a beeline for his coveted door. He was faster than I thought he’d be. But sadly for him, not fast enough to avoid Lazlo’s outstretched foot.
“Unnnfff!”
He tripped hard, pinwheeling his arms wildly as he headed for an abrupt date with the wall. But in a stroke of good timing, the door swung open at that exact moment… and somehow he angled his body right through it.
“WHAT THE FUC—”
There was a horrendous crash, followed by the sound of cursing and screaming. The door slammed into the wall so hard it actually swung shut again, muffling a whole cacophony of screams. I glanced at Lazlo and Dawson, who only shrugged.
“Whatever you’re gonna do, do it fast.”
I nodded appreciatively and kicked the door in. These two men weren’t just associates, they were mercenaries and competitors as well. Neither of them particularly liked me, if I were being honest. But that was okay. I didn’t like them either.
Luckily though, I still had favors to cash in with them. In the mercenary community it was always good to do favors. When someone called for help, you rarely wanted to say no.
And that’s because you never knew when you’d need some help of your own.
“GO!”
We pushed through the doorway, only to find sixothermen trying to pick up the mess Crisco had inadvertently made. And the mess was gigantic.
The entire back room was a poker game. Or at least ithadbeen.At the moment it was a clusterfuck of chips and cards and broken whiskey glasses, along with whatever ice cubes and booze were scattered over the surface of the dirty checkered floor.
“Get off me, you piece of shit!”
Crisco leapt to his feet, pushing off the largest of the six players who was flat on his back. He scrambled across the table so hard he actually tilted it onto its side, then ran to the back of the room.
“Hey!” a voice shouted angrily. “Who the hell areyou?”
Twelve vengeful eyes turned on the three of us. In that moment we became a lot more important than Crisco, who’d completely destroyed their game.
“We’re not here for you,” Dawson growled. “We’re here for—”
Dawson’s jaw clapped shut with the sickening clack of teeth on teeth as someone punched him. They did it hard too, but not nearly hard enough.
I knew from personal experience that this was a big mistake.
“Motherfucker!”
The next minute was pure chaos, as Lazlo and Dawson began utterly cleaning house. Bodies flew. Splinters of shattered tables were flung everywhere, mixed in with the clatter of clay chips against the hard floor.
Through it all though, I focused on Crisco.
He was edging toward the back door without trying to look at it. The second I shifted my gaze, he flung himself through it and out, into the night.
FUCK.
I leapt forward to follow him, but one of the poker players shifted to block me. A quick elbow to the chin dropped him like a sack of lead weights. The whole fight took all of three seconds, but the man was big enough to disrupt my momentum and give Crisco a good eight or ten second head start.
Apparently, that was all he needed.
The cool air kissed my skin as I ran full tilt at my adversary. By the time I reached the back fence of the parking lot, Crisco had already scaled it. There was a salvage yard on the other side; a full-blown maze of wrecked vehicles, engine blocks, and discarded car parts. There were a hundred different paths to take. A thousand places to hide. My feet were ready to leap over and keep on running, but my heart already knew where the chase would end.
