Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson
at me again, slamming a fist intomy solar plexus.Air burst from my lungs, and I doubled overand tried not to puke.
He came at me again, an old-fashioned righthook this time.
I twisted out of the way, causing his attackto bounce off the top of my skull. But even though it was aglancing blow, the force clanged through my head like a fire bell.I was able to get in close and respond with an elbow strike,snapping it up under his chin, but I wasn’t sure the behemoth evenfelt it.
“That’s enough.”
I heard the unmistakable sound of someoneracking a semi-auto.
Udelhoffer and I both stumbled to a halt.Above us on the steps, Hawk Nose glared down, a 9mm pointed at mychest.
Another dark-haired man emerged from thehouse, one I hadn’t seen before. Wearing a white Scarface suit, heheld an automatic pistol.
Outnumbered and outgunned, I dropped my gazeand rounded my shoulders, looking submissive.
“Take her inside. Think you can handle that,Udelhoffer?”
The brute grumbled, breathing hard. Hewrapped his left arm around my right like a bridegroom escorting medown the aisle, then grabbed my hand, locking me into place by hisside. It was a hold often used by police to convince unrulycivilians to come along without a fuss. Just a little pressure andhe could easily bring me to the ground or break my elbow.
I gasped as if he was hurting me. “Let me go.Please.”
He forced me back in the direction of thehouse.
The pulse of helicopter blades speeding uptheir rotation registered somewhere in the back of my mind. If thatcraft lifted off, Julianne was gone.
I couldn’t let that happen.
The man’s training and size would enable himto counter any move I threw at him. My only shot was suckering himinto underestimating me. I thrashed against him ineffectively,hoping to convince him this was all I had left to give.
“Knock it off.” He put pressure on my wrist,and I let out a cry of pain that wasn’t entirely acting.
I let him lead me past the pool, and westarted up the shallow flagstone steps. Above us, Hawk Nose loweredhis pistol. Apparently satisfied that Udelhoffer was under control,he and the other man turned and slipped into the house ahead ofus.
Halfway up, I stumbled a little, getting outof step, throwing him slightly off balance. Then I made mymove.
I veered toward him and reached down with myfree hand, grabbing his balls and yanking them like the handle of aNautilus machine.
He released my arm, buckling over with agrunt. No matter how much hand-to-hand training a man had, when youwent below the belt he forgot everything and tried to protect thegoods.
As he leaned forward I slipped to the side,grabbing his shoulder, using his momentum to carry him forward andintroduce his head to the stone planter at the top of the stairs.He hit it with a dull thud, then crumpled to the ground.
I didn’t know if I’d killed him or merelyincapacitated him, and I didn’t wait to find out. I raced down thestairs and past the pool, kicking the shoes from my feet as I ranfor the helicopter.
I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d do once Ireached it. I had no weapon, no plan. The aircraft was a purpleBell 427, under ten years old. Twin engine, light utility, seatedeight. Through the cabin doors I saw four people inside, one ofthem the pilot, one Julianne. I’d been trained to fly severaldifferent varieties of chopper, including more common types usedfor corporate flying, but I didn’t think they were just going tohand over the keys because I asked nicely.
Voices erupted behind me, but I didn’t turnto look. I ran in a zigzag pattern, waiting for the pop of gunfire,but it never came.
Then I heard grunting behind me; a runner,giving chase.
I straightened course and pushed more energyinto my legs. The grass was stiff and harsh against the soles of myfeet, jabbing and slicing. The copter backwash was hot, smelledlike exhaust, blowing faster and louder every step closer, until Icouldn’t hear my pursuer anymore.
But I knew he was still there.
Ahead the helicopter shifted to one side,then started to lift.
I hit a dip in the ground and stumbled to oneknee. Pushing off, I righted myself and ran harder.
I could feel the man behind me now, feel hisfootsteps gaining. I was fast, but in a few strides he wouldovertake me.
I was nearly upon the aircraft. Sandparticles pelted my skin, stirred into the air by the blades. Hairwhipped across my eyes. The chopper was now three feet in the air,rising fast.
There was only one thing I could do, and Icouldn’t believe I was actually going to attempt it.
Once I passed under the chopper, I leaped forall I was worth. My fingertips hit the right skid. I grabbed on,one hand slipping. The helicopter swayed and bucked and for amoment, and I thought the whole thing might come down on top of me.I made another swipe with my loose hand, and this time my fingersheld and the helicopter lifted me into the air.
My pursuer was right beneath me. His armsclosed around my legs, binding, holding tight. It was the TonyMontana wannabe.
I twisted, fighting to break free.
The chopper tipped and veered to theright.
I pulled a foot loose and kicked, hitting himin the forehead with my heel, but he wouldn’t let go.
The blades canted, dangerously low to theground. One hit and it would be over for all of us. I’d seen a birdcartwheel before. They never found all the pieces of the dead.
I pummeled Scarface with my bare heel, theforce shuddering up my leg. His hold slipped. He clawed at my knee,locking my ankle in his armpit, but I kept up my assault, drivingmy foot into his head, his face, as we ascended.
My grip was one of my best skills. I couldcrack walnuts barehanded. Once, during training, I hung onto aniron bar for six hours.
But I didn’t have an extra hundred eightypounds gripping my ankles, or the extra g-force of liftoff. Unableto hold on, my left hand slipped off the skid.
My right wrist turned, and I felt like I wasbeing pulled in half. I chanced a look down, saw the groundblurring beneath me, and