The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One V. Timlin (mobi reader .txt) 📖

But this had been her idea.

“I know, I know,” Anouk muttered. She licked her dry lips. All moisture had vanished from her mouth. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, and her whole body was on high alert. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and glanced to the opposite side of the street—Vari’s and Fitzwil’s position. Knowing they were there eased her nerves a touch. Her thoughts drifted to Nat, and she looked up to Madam Valeria’s roof. He should be up there somewhere.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. She gasped, startled, and jumped back from the hand. A man in a black cap with matching jacket and trousers leaned towards her, swaying. The clothes had seen better days. Some tears had been patched, but some still waited to be mended. A few days of old stubble covered his square jaw. He would have been a handsome man if he took better care of his appearance and stank less of alcohol.

Anouk put her hand over her nose and glowered at him. “What do you want?”

The man’s drooping grey eyes tried focusing on her face, and he slurred a litany of words.

“What?” Anouk asked.

The man frowned and slurred again, like he was trying to ask her something.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

The frown on his face deepened into a scowl as he raised his voice. “You… look like that bitch… who dared to defy me in that whorehouse.” He stabbed with his finger towards Madam Valeria’s.

Anouk gulped. Shit, this was the man who had grabbed her—the one she’d humiliated with her wrist lock. Everything had happened so quickly, she hadn’t had time to take a proper look at her attacker. She couldn’t blame him for remembering her but still, she shook her head. “No, sir, you must be mistaken. I’ve never been to that place, but am heading there now. I’ll tell you what…” she took him by his shoulder and turned him around, “…if you go home now and…”

The man slipped from her grasp with surprising agility for someone clearly worse for wear and turned to face her again. “You’re that bitch.” Spit flew from his mouth, and she dodged to avoid getting any on her face. He growled and lifted his arms to grab her. “I’ll show you, whore.”

Anouk jumped back. “I’m not a bitch or a whore,” she snapped. “And if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll have to hurt you.”

The man charged with the elegance of a drunken peg-legged panther, flailing his hands. He snarled; his face twisted in rage. Anouk danced out of his reach. She had to get rid of him before their uneven match drew too much attention. The wrist lock was out of the question. It would attract unwanted eyes. There was only one thing she could do.

The man charged again. “Come here, you bitch.”

“You really are annoying, aren’t you? Well, I warned you.” She veered behind him, wrapped her arm around his throat and started to press his neck. The man snarled and fought, frantically trying to claw Anouk’s hands but she simply added more pressure. Sweat ran down her face as she kept him firmly in the neck lock. After what seemed like a valuable eternity, the man’s resistance weakened and he went limp.

Anouk gritted her teeth, trying to keep a hold of the man. He was a dead weight. A dead weight? Had she killed him? She glanced around, searching for a place where she could drag the body and check for life signs. She spotted a bench and started to pull him towards it. Her eyes stopped at a couple—they were looking at her, their faces creased. Anouk forced a smile. “Legs gone. Too many drinks.”

“He has a bit of a drinking problem, but otherwise he’s a good groom,” a woman said behind her. Vari. Relief washed over Anouk.

She looked over her shoulder at the older woman. “Quite, and he doesn’t like being reminded about it.”

Fitzwil stepped forward and took the man from Anouk. “Come on, lad. Time to go home.”

The couple eyed them for a few moments before shrugging. They strolled past without another look.

“Thanks,” Anouk whispered. “I had no choice.”

“Yes, we saw,” Vari said. “Nat will be in position soon, so you better get there too. We’ll take care of this one.”

“Is he…” Anouk started.

Fitzwil nodded. “He’s alive. Now, go.”

She bobbed her head and hurried towards Madam Valeria’s. She chewed her lower lip, all too aware of the time wasted. If Nat was already in, he wouldn’t know Anouk had yet to get in position. No sound of a fire alarm came to the street, though, nor were people pouring out from an evacuation. She stalked towards the basement and ran down the stairs. In front of the dark door, she lifted her fist to knock, but stopped—the courage she had seconds ago plummeted into her boots. An icy grip clutched her stomach tight, flipping it upside down and threatening to send her last meal up to her throat. She drew a deep shaking breath to steady her storming innards and knocked on the door before she could hesitate more. Soon the flap opened, and Mr Sunshine filled the square gap with his squinting eyes.

“Yes?”

“Good evening…” Anouk’s voice faltered. What was his real name? She could hardly call him Mr Sunshine. “Sir. Could I speak with Madam Valeria, please? Tell her it’s Miss Herring, and I’d like to know if the offer of employment is still on.”

The eyes of the madam’s bouncer narrowed even further. She knew she looked exactly how she felt—scared almost beyond her wits. Her whole body shook.

“I need a job,” she whimpered.

He made a gruff noise and closed the flap. Anouk stared at it. Had he dismissed her right away? Did he suspect a trap? If so, what should she do now? Nat would need her help. Soon.

“Calm down, girl. He just went to check with Madam Valeria,”