"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 05 - Fire In The Blood E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

He got his balance fixed and carefully drew back one of his rough leather toes
to kick my skull into the next county. I could disappear and let his foot sail
through empty air, but this was the wrong place for that kind of fancy workЧtoo
many people and too many eyes. Just in time, I got my hand up and caught his
ankle. He grunted at the initial shock and then gasped when I squeezed and
twisted. He had to turn with it or suffer a green-stick fracture. Arms
pinwheeling, he hopped once on his other foot and crashed into a waiter who had
come up to stop the ruckus.
Both of them were on the floor in a sloppy football scramble. The guy that hit
me started to hit the waiter, but I still had his ankle and gave it a sharp pull
to remind him. He grunted out a very ripe curse, which upset some lady into
calling for the manager at the top of her lungs. Another woman told her to shut
up and a drunk said he would put ten bucks on the skinny guy in blue.
"Harry, how could you?" This from Marian, who had slid from the booth and was
standing over us both.
Harry was in no mood to discuss motives and tried to kick me with his free foot.
He hit my collarboneЧhurting, but not breaking itЧthen he tried to slam sideways
and get my other ear. I got my hand up in time again and twisted him
pigeon-toed. He yelped, sat up, and tried once more to belt me, this time with
his fists.
The waiter spoiled his aim by crawling out from under him just as another man
was coming up. Together they tried to haul Harry away from me. I released my
grip, still plenty mad, but content to let them handle him until it became clear
they'd want help themselves. I got my feet under me, leaned over, and carefully
pulled the punch I poked into Harry's gut. He only needed the breath knocked
from him, not burst organs.
It worked. You can't fight if you can't breathe, and normal humans do need air
on a regular basis. Harry stopped struggling with the waiters and rolled on his
side, probably burning one of his own ears for a change as he scraped against
the carpet. He made choking sounds trying to refill his lungs.
A man in a tux appeared, took the situation in with an experienced eye, and
jerked his head toward the exit. The waiters picked Harry up and marched him
away, presumably to throw him out. He didn't fight them, but his mottled red
face was eloquent. If I wasn't careful, I'd be in for an ambush when I went out
for my car.
"I apologize, sir, I trust you are not injured?" The tux was not a happy man. I
told him I was fine, and then he apologized to the dozen or so people who had
watched with varying degrees of interest. Two or three left, and the rest
settled down to discuss the fight and wait for signs of more entertainment.
I straightened and dusted my suit, took Marian's arm, and made a decent exit
myself as far as the lobby before stopping to square off with her. "Okay, who
was he?" I already knew, but had appearances to keep up.
"Nobody important. Are you all right?" Her face was bright with excitement.
"Give me a name."
"Just some guy I used to date."
I kept looking at her.
Exasperation superseded the excitement. "Harry Summers," she snapped. "Is
nosiness a part of your profession? No, forget I asked, the answer's got to be
yes."
"I always like to get the name of anyone who sucker-punches me."