The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

their car along the embankment, narrowly missing trees and bushes, until she managed to slam on the brakes.

“Holy shit! That must’ve been what happened to Parekh,” Hayes observed, unclipping her seat belt and opening her door. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

Miller was up and out before Hayes received a reply. “We’re in trouble. They’ve pulled up over there. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

Listening to her partner, Hayes stared into the distance, observing the rear red lights of the transit. “Oh crap!” She instinctively went into her pocket for the cosh, which she extended. “Let’s call for backup.”

“It’s too late for that.” Miller took her butterfly knife and bottle of mace out of her suit jacket pocket. “Here, you take this. I’ve got the knife and cosh.”

“Right, let’s move!” Miller took control, unsheathing the blade.

They made so much noise running through the woods, hoping the van occupants wouldn’t catch up with them. If they did, Hayes knew they would put up one hell of a fight. The fact their pursuers had guns didn’t bode well. “Stop! Shh!”

In the blackness, she listened to twigs snapping and bushes rustling. Hayes knew which direction their aggressors were heading: towards them. “Quick! Behind this tree.” She snuck behind a tall, wide oak. “If we keep running, they’ll win.”

“We make a stand here, now,” Miller agreed.

With her partner stood next to her, Hayes listened to them approaching. They weren’t the brightest of assailants, which was probably why they left the door open at Paula Lang’s home, together with their mobiles and wallets. Stupid. And why one of them stuck the muzzle of a pistol in the back of Henry Curtis’ head. Dumb.

“They’re around here somewhere. Split up.”

Hayes waited as one walked off in a different direction. The moonlight was enough to make out Miller’s features. The remaining pursuer was in front of them, right by their tree; she could hear him breathing. She took a step out.

A twig snapped beneath her shoe. “Oh sh–”

Raising her bottle of mace, she aimed it at the guy’s face and pressed the button, liquid firing in his face. He fired the gun wildly a couple of times.

While he screamed, Hayes stepped forward, and kicked him in the balls, using the cosh to force him to drop the pistol.

When he pitched forward, Hayes used the cosh to sweep away his legs, putting him on his back. Stood above him, she whacked his legs a couple of times with the cosh.

Miller jumped on him, turning him over onto his stomach. She read him his rights while cuffing him.

The cuffed assailant screamed that his eyes stung, his voice loud, high.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

A bright flash in the distance preceded a dull thud in the tree next to her. Hayes instinctively looked for the gun their cuffed guy had, but couldn’t find it. She heard Miller make a move. “What are you doing?” Her whisper was angry.

Before Miller replied, her partner ran into the darkness. “Over here, dickhead.”

“Miller, no!” She wanted to go after her partner, but she couldn’t leave her captive. His legs weren’t bound, so he could still be a menace. “Stay where you are.”

Sweeping her flashlight over the ground, as she heard another gunshot. “Miller!” Worried, Hayes found the pistol, and when she turned around, heard a scuffle, as her bound assailant ran into the woods.

55

“We don’t have to do this, Sarge.” Walker took a step towards his boss. “Look, she’s just a woman. We can do a deal with her, yeah? No one else has to die tonight.”

Sarge had a pistol pressed against Demirci’s forehead.

“Oh, and we all live happily ever after, is that it?” Zuccari shouted from behind.

Walker turned and pointed at his “colleague”. “You, shut your fucking mouth! You’ve already done enough damage. You really won’t be happy until they’re all dead, will you?” He received a defiant stare from Zuccari. “Yeah, well, you’ll be digging three graves yourself, you piece of shit. Don’t be expecting my help.”

“Enough, Luke.” Sarge glared at him. “None of this matters now. We have to do this. She can’t live, not after tonight. And besides, this is no worse than she’s done to others. This bitch has had more people killed than I’ve had hot dinners, haven’t you, love?”

Demirci shook her head. “Not me, uh-uh. I’ve not had one person killed. Why would I? I’m a businesswoman, not a gangster. If someone owes me money, I don’t have them killed. Where’s the sense in that?” She tried to lean forward, to grab his attention. “I play up to that image on purpose. It never hurts to have people running scared of you, but I swear I never had my cousins kill anyone.”

“And what about his fingers?” Walker noticed her close her eyes. “Your cousin sliced them off, and Zuccari says you wrapped them up in a hanky and put them in your handbag before you left him with these psychos.”

“I never said I’m Mother Theresa,” Demirci said, leaning back. “I said I’ve never had anyone killed, not that I’ve never hurt anyone. It comes with the turf, but I’ve never had to order anyone’s death because everyone pays, sooner or later. How quickly they pay back determines how many body parts they walk away with.”

Sarge raised his eyebrows. “You see? Would this world be any worse off without her?” He pulled back the hammer, his finger on the trigger.

“Hang on, Sarge, let Luke do it,” Zuccari suggested. “I don’t trust him, and I won’t until I see his hands bloody. Give him the gun, let him do her.”

Walker threw his hands up, took a couple of steps back. “Hey, no fucking way am I doing that. Forget it! If you want to blow her brains out, one of you can.”

When he took another couple of steps back, he bumped into Vodicka, who glared at him. “Or let one of them do it. I’m not touching that gun, got it?”

Sarge turned the pistol on him. “You’ll do