Page 5 of Dodge

She stepped back and looked around the room. The table men had stood. She said, “Sit,” and they sat.

The bartender looked at the phone.

Marlowe said, “You really want the cops in here?”

It was Rudy who shook his head, and the bartender returned to suds.

Cops were the last thing she wanted here too.

She looked Lumberjack over. He was no longer shocked or intimidated. The sneery smile had returned.

“You have a piece?” she asked.

“Sure don’t.”

“Tug it up, turn around.”

He hesitated, then decided her eyes meant she was wild enough to pull the trigger.

High-tension wire ...

He grimaced and did as told. She pulled from his unpleasantly sweaty waistband the small semiauto, an Italian .25. Her Smittie was small too but in her hand it didn’t look silly—the way this weapon would in his.

She said to the bartender, “You have anything underneath?”

“Baseball bat is all.” His voice trembled. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

Keeping the gun on Rudy, she walked to the table he’d been sitting at and said to his two companions, “Stand up. Up withyourshirts.” They did. Neither was armed. She nodded at the chairs and they settled.

She glanced at the other three patrons. And knew they were clean. You get a feel.

Looking Rudy up and down. Broad shoulders, meaty hands. Strong, yes. But a fair measure of his bulk was the sort that arises when you start drinking whiskey around noon.

She went to her backpack, which she’d set on the floor when she’d entered. From inside she extracted a gray bag that looked like a pocketbook a woman in the 1950s might carry, a clutch. It was made of carbon fiber, nearly impossible to cut open. Marlowe worked the combination lock at one end and unzipped it. Into this went his gun.

And then hers.

She sealed up the bag and clicked the lock.

Constant Marlowe, now in a mood, had just taken weapons off the table.

Rudy’s face tightened, perplexed.

She then removed her jacket and set it on the barstool. On one arm was a tattoo of a hawk’s head. On the other, the lettersD.K.

“You touched me twice without consent. Now, I’m consenting.” She balled up her fists, dropped into the stance.

“You’re kidding.” With a smile, Rudy glanced back at the table to where his friends sat. “She’s kidding.”

They were not smiling. He was a bully and she was unhinged. This could go bad in several ways.

“Seriously? I’m not going to hit a girl.”

Too damn much talk in this world.

Marlowe moved in fast and launched a stunning uppercut with her left. His head snapped back and he tottered, while she danced away, out of range.

Rudy blinked. Astonishment held off the fury, though only for a few seconds.

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