"Isabo Kelly - Thiefs Desire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly Isabo)

the man in action, and he could move like a crocodile. There was no way to reach the door with him
looming so close. Not smart, Vic Flash. Not smart at all.

Around them, the other patrons of the Red Dawn Tavern quieted. Those sitting close to the impending
fight started to move to the opposite side of the commons; some patrons ducked out the door.

Vic took a deep breath, eyes trained on Charlie. Scold yourself later. Right now, it's time to leave.
"Listen, Big Charlie," Vic began in a conciliatory tone, palms up and facing outward to halt the large
man's steps, "I just had a lucky streak is all. Cards fall as they will." Just need to stall him. A few steps
backward...

"No one gets three Devil's High in one night," Charlie boomed, grabbing Vic by the collar, effectively
preventing any more of those few steps backward. Vic swallowed, the movement made difficult under
Charlie's grip. Okay, so maybe the third Devil's High had been a mistake. Worry about it later, Flash!
Because calming the situation wasn't working.

Vic stared at the raging man and tried to speak around his vice grip. Charlie shook Vic, suddenly and
hard, addling brains and concentration with the jolt. Whatever the young gambler had intended to say
was shaken loose and lost. It took several seconds for instinct to kick in.

Too long, Vic thought as the grip tightened, stealing much needed air. Way too long.

In a move too quick for the eye to follow, Vic pulled a dagger from a concealed spot and pressed it
against Charlie's neck. Calming wasn't gonna work. Time for the straightforward approach. Threaten
back. Charlie looked at the dagger against his neck, his grip easing enough for Vic to talk. "It was a lucky
night for me, Big Charlie. Let it be." The gambler's voice was quiet, but each carefully enunciated word
sounded loudly in the now silent commons.

Slowly, Charlie released the crumpled collar of Vic's tunic. For just an instant, Vic felt relief leak past the
anxiety. Then without warning, he captured Vic's knife wrist in another vice grip, his big hand
encompassing half of Vic's forearm. "You threaten me with this poker, boy," Charlie hissed. His breath
stank of stale ale and bar smoke. Vic held back a gag and turned full focus on the hand caught in
Charlie's grip. So much for threatening.

"Enough, Big Charlie," Riyack whispered harshly. "You'll break his wrist."

With a sadistic snarl, Charlie said, "Good," and twisted Vic's wrist just a little more. Exactly what Vic had
been hoping for. A second concealed dagger appeared in Vic's left hand, slashing a shallow line along
Charlie's huge, hairy forearm. The big man howled and let go.

It was all the young gambler needed.

Dashing past tables and startled patrons, Vic fled into the darkened city streets, heart pounding loudly
with a rush of adrenaline. A furious roar erupted from the door of the Red Dawn, but Vic was already
lost in the shadows of a nearby alley when Big Charlie charged into the street.

The heavy purse of gambling winnings hung at the thick black belt cinched around Vic's dark brown
homespun tunic. It remained safely hidden beneath a black cloak, the hood of which was now pulled up
over the young gambler's head. The weight of the money purse felt reassuring. Vic touched it, just to
make sure it was secure. Not a bad night's work, if I do say so myself.