Page 100 of The Hunter
“Give it up, Dorshaw, I’m blocking your only means of escape,” Argent taunted. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make it painless.”
“Let me go before the copper’s minions arrive, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Tell me everything now and I’ll consider—”
Fenwick’s chair toppled, revealing Dorshaw’s sinewy body mid-leap, his knife arcing toward Argent.
Crouching, Argent caught Dorshaw by the hips and used the man’s own momentum to throw him over his shoulder and into the wall. Hopefully head-first.
It was too much to hope. The man caught himself, rolling out of the fall, absorbing minimal damage and unfolding to stand with his back to the window. His lip was bleeding, and broken glass had done a number on his skin, but all wounds seemed superficial.
They circled each other, low and ready, testing the reach of their blade, looking for a place to strike.
“What’s happening to you?” Dorshaw’s handsome face grimaced with disgust. “Protecting a mark, all for a piece of quim?”
“Shut up.” Christopher sliced, but the blow was parried.
“Why not just fuck her first, then kill her and collect the money?” Dorshaw smirked. “It’s simple enough, even for someone like you.”
“I don’t enjoy that,” Christopher hissed. He lunged again, but caught the edge of Dorshaw’s jacket before his blade glanced off Dorshaw’s knife. “I’m not like you.”
“I know you’re not.” Dorshaw’s smile revealed sharp, uneven teeth. “I’d kill her first, and then fuck her.”
Losing the battle for his control, Christopher saw the opening, just the slightest gap in Dorshaw’s guard, whether a trap or a mistake, he was going to fucking take it, and there would be two men’s entrails staining the Fenwick library carpets.
The click of a revolver action pulled him up short. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Morley had gained his feet, his right arm curled uselessly around the large knife almost embedded to the hilt in his shoulder. Though his stern features were devoid of color, his left hand, the hand holding the gun, was absolutely steady.
Argent sent him a silent tirade. This was supposed to have been easy. A quick climb, the snap of a neck, and then Millie and Jakub would be out of danger. Men like him, ones that shifted through shadows, they had no purpose for loud and messy guns, not on a job like this. Argent made a silent promise that his pistol would be his new permanent accessory. If rogue coppers were carrying them now, it might be a necessity from here on out.
“Shoot him,” Argent commanded.
Dorshaw dropped his knife and put his hands up, backing toward the broken window in the guise of making himself more visible to Morley.
“You heard what I said, shoot him.Now.”
“I’m unarmed,” Dorshaw cried, throwing a bit of fear into his voice for flair. “And you only have this man’s unholy word that I’m guilty of anything that transpired here today.”
“You… threw a knife at me,” Morley slurred, a bit incredulous. Argent wondered if it was blood loss or shock making the inspector unsteady; either way, it didn’t bode well.
“I was aiming for him,” Dorshaw lied, gesturing to Argent. “Upon my word.” He took several steps back, inching closer to the window, hands still in the air.
“Shoot, goddammit,” Argent snarled. “He’s going to escape.”
“No I won’t. I’m not leaving this city.” Dorshaw smirked, glee twinkling in his wild eyes. “I think I know where I’m going next. To catch up with an old friend, the Blackheart of Ben More… I hear he has a houseguest who’s going to justdiewhen she sees me.”
Twisting his torso, Dorshaw leaped for the window.
Argent dove after him.
Morley’s first shot went wild. He cocked the hammer and tried again, this time hitting the window molding just as Dorshaw slipped beneath it. His third bullet landed so close to Argent’s face as he moved to follow, that he couldn’t be sure whether it was the bullet or splinters from the windowpane that grazed his cheek.
“I won’t miss this time,” Morley warned.
“He’s getting away, you bloody fuck wit!” Argent eyed the pistol. Two bullets left. Five paces away. If he charged, what were the odds of Morley missing? He considered the inspector’s condition, losing blood, his hard lips pinched with the indescribable pain of the blade embedded in his shoulder. His pale hair now slick with cold sweat that trickled down his neck.Maybe,Argent thought, maybe he had a chance.
“Didn’t you hear him?” Argent demanded. “He’s going after Millie. I have to stop him. Lower your weapon.”
