No Rest For The Wicked

by James, Harper

  She never got a second chance. He lashed out with a vicious kick and caught her right in the belly. She screamed again, louder, higher, filled with pain. Her breath went out of her like it wasn’t ever coming back. She doubled over, fell on her side, the pain radiating out into every part of her body.

  He rolled off the bed and picked up the poker. He prodded her with it a couple times, like he was testing to see if she was still alive—still able to feel pain—then went to the fire and buried it deep in the burning logs.

  ‘You are gonna be so sorry,’ he said and kicked her in the ass.

  Chapter 19

  EVAN FROZE AS A scream split the air. It came from their room, right above him. More like a war cry than a scream. Like something from another place, beyond man’s comprehension.

  She’d understood, lured the crazy one up to their room.

  Another scream, higher and desperate. He was too late.

  He slipped again. Progress was slower than he’d anticipated—or she’d been quicker to get under the crazy kid’s skin. He’d shimmied up a drain pipe, no problem. Then it got harder. Despite the shallow pitch of the first and second story roofs, he slipped on the snow so many times he lost count. But he’d made it in the end, hauling himself up the covered balcony on each floor and onto the roof above and then slip-sliding, two steps forward, one step back, on his way to the balcony above.

  Now he was directly below their room.

  His hands were numb from the cold, his fingers blue. Every limb ached, his clothes soaked with wet snow. That was all forgotten when he heard the scream. He took hold of the rustic wood railing around their balcony and heaved himself up until he could see through the French doors into the room.

  What he saw made his blood boil.

  Gina lay on the floor in a fetal position, moaning softly.

  A man—the one called Sonny, more like an overgrown boy—walked to the fire with a poker in his hand. He thrust it deep into the flames, twisting it, sending a burst of sparks crackling up the chimney. The light from the fire lit up his face, made his greasy skin shine. He turned back to Gina.

  ‘You are gonna be so sorry,’ he said, kicking her viciously on her butt.

  Gina cried out as he kicked her again.

  Something snapped inside Evan, a red mist descending on him. He clamped his hands on the top railing and hauled himself up like a swimmer pushing out of a pool.

  Inside the room, Sonny grabbed Gina by the back of her sweater and dragged her along the floor. The sweater rolled up over her bare back, riding up at the front. It caught under her arms, halfway over her head, trapping her arms as he dragged her onto the edge of the bed, pushing her face down into the covers. She tried to fight against him but she was no match for him, every movement re-igniting the pain in her belly.

  Evan bit down on his anger, barely able to breathe.

  This was his plan, his fault.

  He swung one leg over the rail and then the other, his feet landing silently in the thick snow.

  Sonny had one hand around the back of Gina’s neck pushing her face roughly into the bed, the other one fumbling with her jeans.

  ‘Now we’ll have some fun while the poker gets good and hot,’ he said, his voice thick. Evan barely heard a word through the roaring in his ears. Sonny’s back was to the doors, a gun stuffed down his pants. Evan could have reached it before he knew what was happening, blown his ugly head clean off.

  That was too easy, too good for him.

  It had to be direct, personal contact.

  More than anything he’d ever wanted before, he wanted to feel Sonny’s scrawny neck in his hands, to slowly squeeze the worthless life out of him breath by breath, feel all the little bones in his neck snap under his thumbs . . .

  There wasn’t time.

  He flung the doors open, took two fast strides to the fireplace and pulled the poker from the fire. It was hot, but not branding iron hot. Sonny turned as Evan crossed the room, reaching behind him, pulling out his gun. He saw the news of his death in Evan’s face, heard the sound of shovels in the dirt and faltered, his gun hand trembling.

  ‘Drop the gun, or—’

  Sonny fired, the shaking of his hand so bad he missed by a country mile. He did it again, pulling the trigger over and over, the dry clicking of an empty gun the only sound.

  On the bed, Gina moaned, struggling to extricate herself from the tangle of her sweater. Evan felt as if he’d thrust the hot poker deep into his own heart.

  Sonny’s head snapped from side to side, his eyes wild, wide open with panic. His knife was still on the floor where he dropped it earlier. It didn’t matter he was a punk, a worthless sack of shit, he was young and fast. He dipped and scooped up the knife in an instant.

  Gina sat up on the bed, her head finally free of her sweater, not sure who was where. Sonny threw his left arm around her head, clamping his hand over her mouth and chin. He pulled her off the bed and into his body, twisted her head to the side. He jabbed the tip of the knife into the flesh under her jaw.

  She gasped in pain as he drew blood.

  Evan watched the drop of blood make its way slowly down her exposed neck, feeling its progress as if it was a zipper opening up his guts.

  ‘Drop the poker,’ Sonny hissed. His lips were twisted into a mocking grin, the look of a man who thinks he’s got the upper hand.

  It was the last time he ever had anything to smile about.

  Evan roared, a barely human sound, swinging the poker in a backhand arc, taut muscles responding to the fury inside him, uncoiling all the way from the waist, putting every ounce of his weight into it. He caught Sonny on the side of the head. There was a sickening, satisfying thud as hard iron fractured bone. Sonny screamed as his jaw shattered, the most beautiful sound Evan ever heard.

  The impact threw Gina out from under his arm, backwards onto the bed. Sonny’s legs gave way. He dropped to his knees, the knife slipping from his fingers. Evan buried his foot in his mid-section, lifting him clean off the ground. He caught him before he landed on his back, flipped him over his shoulder and carried him to the wide-open doors.

  He stood there a long moment, the pitiful sound of Sonny’s screams like angels singing sweetly in his ear as Sonny twisted frantically on his shoulder. Then he heaved him over the balcony, arms and legs flying everywhere as he plummeted through the air. He bounced on the roof directly below and tumbled off the edge, dropping onto the one below, slid down that and fell the last long drop to the ground. He landed head first in a broken heap and lay still.

  Evan turned back into the room as Gina pushed herself off the bed and straightened her sweater.

  ‘That was too damn close, mister,’ she said, dredging a reluctant smile up from somewhere.

  ‘Now you know what I felt like—’

  The sound of a shotgun blast, then a hysterical scream from outside cut him short.

  Chapter 20

  IN THE KITCHEN, EVERYONE jumped as a body flew past the window and hit the ground with a heavy thump, a cloud of snow floating down after it.

  Todd saw enough as it flashed past to recognize Sonny’s clothing. He should have shot the crazy kid and to hell with it. The pain-in-the-butt woman couldn’t have pushed him, she was too small. Her boyfriend had found a way into the hotel. Time to go, take his chances on the run.

  He couldn’t risk the front door, not with the guy on the loose somewhere inside, maybe charging down the stairs at this very moment, consumed with uncontrollable rage. He’d go out the back and work his way around.

  Everybody was staring at him, waiting to see what he’d do.

  ‘Looks like you’re on your own now,’ the chef said, his tone mocking. ‘Three down, one to go.’

  Todd swung the sawed-off towards him.

  ‘I’d give yourself up—before he gets you too,’ Luca added. ‘It’s just a matter of time.’

  ‘You better hope he doesn’t find out you hurt his girl.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, all of you.�
�

  Todd backed towards the door keeping them all covered with the shotgun. He pulled it open and checked outside, saw Sonny’s broken body on the ground. He was still alive, just about, one foot twitching in the snow. If he was a dog, you’d put him out of his misery, but Todd wasn’t about to waste any time on him.

  ‘How’s your boy?’ the chef said. ‘Maybe he’s okay—he might have landed on his head.’

  ‘I told you to shut up. And he’s not my boy.’

  On the floor, Emily snuggled next to her mother while she kept vigil over her husband, the comforter spread over the two of them. Todd grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. He backed towards the door again, dragging her with him. Emily screamed. Linda jumped to her feet, forgetting all about her husband. Todd levelled the sawed-off on her chest. The sight of the two barrels pointed directly at her made her freeze for a moment. Todd backed fully out the door, Emily squirming in his grip, as he pulled it shut after him. He looked around but there was nothing to secure it with.

  They hadn’t got more than ten yards when the door flew open and Linda ran out with the chef and Luca close behind.

  ‘Back off,’ Todd shouted.

  Linda kept on coming.

  He raised the shotgun and let off a shot into the air. Linda screamed as if she’d been hit.

  ‘You two,’ Todd called to Luca and the chef, ‘you better hold her. I’ll shoot her if she comes any closer.’

  They looked at each other, then stepped forward and apart.

  ‘You’re going to have to shoot us all,’ the chef said.

  ‘And you’ve only got one shot left in that. You can’t get us all. Give it up now.’

  Todd looked from one to the other, but the answer didn’t take long to work out. He jammed the barrels of the sawed-off into Emily’s small back.

  ‘Yeah, but I only need one for this little sweetie.’

  ***

  EVAN AND GINA LOOKED down in horror from their balcony to the scene unfolding below.

  Gina’s hand flew to her mouth.

  ‘He wouldn’t do it, would he?’

  She looked back into the room to the gun lying on the floor.

  ‘The other one dropped his gun—can’t you shoot him?’

  Evan shook his head.

  ‘It’s empty.’ He felt behind his back. ‘I’ve got another one, but it’s no good, not from up here. I might hit Emily. Or if I hit him, the shock might make the shotgun go off.’

  ‘We’ve got to do something.’

  ‘Wait here,’ Evan said and put his hand on the railing, ready to vault over.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘It’s the fastest way down. With any luck he’s so distracted he won’t see me coming.’

  ‘And if he does? You’ll be a sitting duck.’

  ‘Then he won’t have any left to shoot Emily.’

  And then he was gone, vaulted over the railing. It worked for Orenda hung in the cold air where he’d been a second ago, as he landed on his heels on the roof directly below, dropped to his ass and slid feet first over the edge to the next roof down, gaining momentum the whole time, the wet snow that frustrated him on the way up, now his slippery ally.

  On the ground below, Todd heard the whumpf of Evan landing on each successive roof, saw the avalanche of snow thrown up by his descent. By the time he was halfway down it was big enough to partially conceal him. Todd’s concentration wavered. He raised the sawed-off towards the roof, away from Emily, taking his eyes off the people in front of him. The cloud of snow, glittering in the bright sunlight, made it difficult to see. The chef took a step forward. Luca did the same. Todd brought the gun back down, swinging it from one to the other.

  He couldn’t cover all of them at once. He shoved Emily hard, sending her reeling, stumbling back towards her mother. He turned and ran. On the roof above, Evan tucked his feet under his butt as he got to the edge and launched himself at Todd’s fleeing back. One hundred and ninety-eight pounds of angry muscle and bone flew through the air with all the grace of a wrecking ball. He slammed into Todd’s back, flattening him like he’d been run over by a freight train, grinding his face into the frozen ground as the shotgun went sailing through the air.

  Evan rolled off and onto his feet in one smooth action, ready for more, for anything. But it was all over. Todd lay spread-eagled on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out from his smashed nose, staining the snow bright red. Ten yards away, Sonny’s foot still twitched. Evan looked over at him and then at the sawed-off lying a few feet away.

  His mind replayed the scene he’d witnessed in their room, Sonny with one hand around the back of Gina’s neck pushing her face into the bed, the other one fumbling with her jeans, the sound of her cries . . .

  Without being aware of it, he took a step forward.

  A hand touched his arm.

  ‘Don’t. He’s not worth it.’

  He looked at Linda standing next to him as if he was surprised to find someone there. She kept her hand on his arm, Emily tucked into her hip on the other side, eyes wide as she stared up at him in awe.

  ‘You didn’t see what he did—’

  ‘I know.’ She gripped his arm tighter. ‘They hurt us all. But she needs you now. You won’t be any good to her stuck in jail for the next ten, twenty years. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid—I’ve got to get back inside to Scott.’ She turned her head at a sound behind them. ‘Here she is now.’

  Gina came out from the kitchen and ran towards them. She looked like she’d been through hell and back. He braced himself and staggered as she landed in his arms almost as hard as he’d landed on Todd.

  ‘Thank God you’re okay. That was the stupidest, most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.’

  He grinned and spun her around, her legs flying through the air.

  ‘Forget me, what about you?’

  ‘Well, I think I might be sick in a minute if you keep spinning me around, but apart from that, yeah, I’m okay.’

  He dropped her feet to the ground and held her steady. She looked over at Sonny and shuddered. He felt it ripple through her as the grin slid off his face.

  ‘I wanted to shoot him lying there, but Emily’s mom—’

  ‘Linda.’

  ‘—right, Linda stopped me.’ The grin crept back. ‘Probably a good thing. But feel free to go over and kick him if you want to.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dirty my boots. Let’s get back inside, there’s lots to do.’

  ‘Good idea. You think chef is up to making breakfast? I could eat a horse.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Don’t start all that again.’

  ‘Start what?’

  ‘Last time I heard you say that was at the steakhouse you took me to, the one outside Louisville. You know, the one where you put your business card in a jar . . . and look where that got us.’

  He nodded like he’d forgotten all about it.

  ‘That was my last one, too. Talk about lucky.’

  ‘Lucky? By the way, I’m busy next time.’

  He grinned knowingly.

  ‘We’ll see. C’mon, I can smell bacon cooking.’

  She stopped mid-stride, put her hand on his arm, as something came back to her.

  ‘You said something right before you jumped. It worked for Orenda. What was that all about?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘You really don’t want to know.’

  But her words had rattled him. He hadn’t said that at all. He’d said Lucinda. He’d never known her Iroquois name.

  ENJOYED THIS BOOK? YOU CAN HELP THE NEXT READER TO ENJOY IT, TOO.

  Reader reviews are the most powerful tools in my arsenal when it comes to getting attention for my books.

  New York publishers can spend big bucks on full page newspaper ads, radio slots, and posters on the subway. I don’t have that kind of financial clout, but I do have something much more powerful and effective than that, and it’s something that those publishers would kill to get their h
ands on.

  A committed and loyal bunch of readers like you.

  Honest reviews of my books help bring them to the attention of other readers.

  If you’ve enjoyed this book I would be very grateful if you could spend just five minutes leaving a review (it can be as short as you like) on the book’s Amazon page. You can jump right to the page by clicking below.

  Amazon US

  Amazon UK

  Amazon CA

  Amazon AU

  Thank you very much.

  BOOKS BY JAMES HARPER

  The Evan Buckley Thrillers

  BAD TO THE BONES

  WHEN EVAN BUCKLEY’S latest client ends up swinging on a rope, he’s ready to call it a day. But he’s an awkward cuss with a soft spot for a sad story and he takes on one last job—a child and husband who disappeared ten years ago. It’s a long-dead investigation that everybody wants to stay that way, but he vows to uncover the truth—and in the process, kick into touch the demons who come to torment him every night.

  Amazon US

  Amazon UK

  Amazon CA

  Amazon AU

  KENTUCKY VICE

  MAVERICK PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR Evan Buckley is no stranger to self-induced mayhem—but even he’s mystified by the jam college buddy Jesse Springer has got himself into. When Jesse shows up with a wad of explicit photographs that arrived in the mail, Evan finds himself caught up in the most bizarre case of blackmail he’s ever encountered—Jesse swears blind he can’t remember a thing about it.