Part 14 (2/2)
”Yeah. On the surface. Underneath, he's a cheapskate.”
”He did buy two of those drinks.”
”At six fifty a whack. Not only a cheapskate, but he likes to play martyr.”
Lacey looked at Scott, and saw he was smiling.
The door's lock b.u.t.ton snapped out. Lacey turned, saw the door lurch, the chair tip forward a fraction. She thrust herself to her knees. The knife fell from her lap. She grabbed it. Scott threw himself against the wall on the other side of the door. He held a table leg in one upraised hand, the knife in the other. The automatic remained tucked in his belt.
The door eased back silently, then rammed the chair again, this time forcing the legs to scoot an inch across the carpet.
”Shoot him through the door,” Lacey whispered.
Scott shook his head. ”Louder,” he mouthed.
”Shoot through the door!”
”Right.” Clamping the club between his legs, he pulled out the automatic. He held it close to the door and worked its slide, jacking a live cartridge out.
The door settled back into place.
Lacey waited, holding her breath, expecting another thrust. Scott picked up his bullet and dropped it into his s.h.i.+rt pocket.
Nothing happened.
”What ever he is,” Scott whispered, ”he doesn't like bullets.” Tucking away the pistol, he shoved the chair more firmly under the k.n.o.b. ”I think we're all right for a while...till he figures a new way to get at us.”
”What'll he do?”
Scott shrugged.
”What time is it now?”
Scott glanced at his wrist.w.a.tch. ”Five minutes later than the last time you asked.”
”Encouraging,” she muttered.
”Three and a half hours to go.”
”If your man's on time.”
”Knowing Dukane, he'll be early.”
”I hope so.” Lacey sat down again, feeling a slight pain as her shorts drew taut across her wound. Raising herself for a moment, she tugged the shorts to loosen them. Fortunately, the cut was high enough so that she didn't rest on it, sitting upright. It hurt very little, except for a frequent, achy itch. It itched now. She scratched it gently with her fingernails. ”What makes you think this Dukane will do us any good?”
”He's brilliant, innovative, a crack shot...”
”Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?”
”d.a.m.n near. Won the Medal of Honor in Vietnam. Dropped in behind the lines, killed G.o.d-knows how many gooks, freed two dozen POWs and led them all back. Alone.”
Scott shook his head, looking astonished by the feat. ”He's been a private investigator and bodyguard for nine years. An amazing guy. He's actually lived the Charlie Dane stories. Most of them are based on incidents from Dukane's past.”
”Hope I live long enough to meet him.”
”I keep trying to figure out what he'd do, if he were here instead of me.”
”What would he do?”
Scott shook his head. One corner of his mouth smiled. ”He'd make clubs out of the table legs.”
”Would he shoot through the door?”
”More than likely.”
”I wish you had.”
”Don't tell anyone, but my shooting has been limited to pistol ranges. I've never killed a man.”
”That would've been a good time to start.”
”Well...” Scott sighed. ”I'm not against it-morally, I mean. Sort of a big step, though. Besides, I'd still rather take him alive. I mean, can you imagine the story? It'd be terrific! Do it up non fiction. A hardbound sale. Major advertising and promotion. Whammo, a best seller!”
”Give me your gun,” Lacey said, scrambling to her feet. She held out her hand. ”Come on, give it. If you aren't willing to shoot him, I sure am.”
He held onto it. ”Sorry.”
”Sorry won't get us out of a coffin. Now come on! You've missed two big chances to blast this b.a.s.t.a.r.d to h.e.l.l. Let me do it.”
”Lacey, don't get...”
She lunged, reaching for the automatic. Scott knocked her arm away. He shoved her backward with the table leg, its bolt biting into her chest. ”Calm down!”
”You'll get us killed!” she blurted, and suddenly started to cry. She turned away. She wanted to run for the bedroom or bathroom, to let out her despair in private, but was afraid to leave him. So she faced the wall, crying into her hands. She heard Scott approach. His arms reached forward and folded lightly across her belly.
”I won't let anything happen to you,” he said, his breath warm through her hair. ”I promise.”
”What about your best seller?”
”I won't let him get you.”
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