Titan Song Dan Stout (top 20 books to read txt) 📖

focus on me and not the struggling men. I couldn’t risking opening fire, but if the attacking Mollenkampi managed to pry Jax’s revolver out of his hand, that math would change quickly.

Jax pivoted his hips, putting his left side into the guy’s weight, stretching his right arm to keep his weapon out of his attacker’s grasp.

“Stay where you are!” I kept my revolver locked on the guy with the crowbar, who could potentially throw his weapon. “Hands where I can see them!”

I closed in on Jax and the shorter Mollenkampi, rotating so that none of the men were in my blind spot. A few months earlier, I might have shifted my weapon and grabbed the assailant. But even with all my physical therapy, my left hand was still missing two fingers, and I didn’t trust myself to fire a weapon with it.

The wide guy shifted his weight forward, and I swung my aim, snarling, “Don’t do it, asshole!”

From the corner of my eye, I tracked Jax trying to bring his weapon around, but the short Mollenkampi kept batting his arm away, and the filth-slicked alley gave neither of them purchase for their feet.

Unwilling to drop my aim or to switch hands, I reached into the wrestling match with my left hand. I knew better than to try to grab the Mollenkampi near either mouth, so instead I locked my free arm with his. I pivoted, turning my back on the other men for a perilous second. But it was worth the risk. While I was rotating across my front, putting the strength of my entire body into the motion, the Mollenkampi was pulled backward, tipping him off balance and freeing Ajax from his grip even as he stumbled to the side.

Jax spun, weapon raised, covering the other two as he backed up to gain a little space. Breathing heavily, he half turned to assist me. But I was already taking the Mollenkampi to the ground, letting my greater height and weight pin him to the ground. He pushed upward, threatening to topple me over, and I struck him hard, three times, putting my full strength behind each blow. The heel of my left hand connected just below his ear at the start of his jawbone. His head struck the alley stones, scattering trash and debris before bouncing back up to be hit again. After the third strike I shoved the muzzle of my weapon into the base of his neck and screamed, “Don’t move!” His jaws went slack and his eyes flickered rapidly. I looked away, keeping one hand on the short Mollenkampi’s back so I’d have a warning if he began moving as I surveyed the alley.

Jax had the two humans under control. He directed them to their knees, then prone. The crowbar had been kicked to the side. Maybe it was seeing their friend taken down, or maybe it was the look in Jax’s eye as he held them at gunpoint. Regardless, both men were complying.

I caught my breath. The wide guy was on the ground, arms spread out in front of him. His tattoos were in the light, and I noticed that one had the bear and salmon insignia of the Weathering Storm rig. It confirmed my suspicion that they were rig men, out of work and willing to do whatever it took to pay the rent.

Jax took two steps toward me, and I stooped and picked up his badge from the alleyway filth. “Think you can hold on to it this time?”

He didn’t laugh. “I’ll watch these guys. You go back to the car radio and air this out.”

From inside the building, there was a clang and a screech of metal on metal. I stepped in that direction.

“Carter!” It was Jax, reining me in.

“Dammit, she’s getting away!”

“So? Control this scene and we’ll get her later. We need backup.”

I snarled a curse. “You go. You’re faster than me. Run like the imps are on your ass, then get back with patrol cops as fast as you can.”

“I’ll be right back.” The slap of shoes on pavement, fading as he rounded the corner. I kept myself positioned where the three men couldn’t see me, focused on the two humans with more fight in them. Occasionally I shifted my stance so that I could view them from different angles, the better to catch any hidden movements. The seconds stretched to eternity. With each heartbeat, I expected someone to come bolting out of the building, wielding a shotgun and screaming suicidal defiance.

So maybe that’s my excuse for being surprised when voices came from the far side of the alley.

I spun, and found Vandie Cedrow and a tall Gillmyn woman frozen at the alleyway corner. They each held paper bags, and the Gillmyn was sporting treated canvas coveralls, the kind a welder might wear.

Vandie’s hand was on the welder’s back, as if they were sharing a joke.

I turned. Aimed at her center of mass. “Drop the packages.”

They stared, eyes wide. I repeated the command, louder this time.

Vandie recovered first. “Do as he says.” She spoke to her companion. Her initial surprise was turning into a calm control.

To me she added, “Are we under arrest?”

“You’re detained,” I said, “until I can control the situation.”

“Control away, mister hero.”

“Yeah, I feel real bad about breaking up your party. Hands on your head.”

They complied, and I glanced behind them. No sign of Jax or any patrol. I was between the newcomers and the men on the ground. I placed my back to the alley wall, allowing me to split my attention between both groups.

“Now kneel,” I said.

Vandie and the welder sank to the ground. I tilted my head toward the building door. “What are we gonna find in there, Vandie? And how are you going to explain it away? Oh, wait—let me guess. It’s for the greater good. Why is it that the greater good always seems to be great for a select few while the rest of us simply get screwed over in new