"Kevin O'Donnel Jr. - The Journeys of McGill Feighan 01 - Caverns" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Donnell Jr Kevin)

you'll have to take, won't you?"
His eyes were a deep, unflecked blue. They saw her without
acknowledging her. Uneasy, she stared into them, challenging them to show
feeling or concern. Still they lay on her as though she were a wall, or a dead
rat. For a moment she tried to recall whose eyes they reminded her of. Then
she remembered: her own.
 The time for words was past. Any second the woman would leap for the
phone and call the police. She had to act, and now! The briefcase, dropped,
thudded on the speckled vinyl tile.
A step forward, and a feint with the stiffened hands. She saw his own
rising to parry them, and knew then that she could take him, she could
break him. Jubilantly she swung up her foot, blurring the boot at his balls.
To her astonishment he pivoted, caught her heel, and twisted it.
She rolled with the torque. Turning her upper body, outstretching her
arms to bear her weight, she whipped the other foot off the floor and
snapped it at his head. That shouldтАФ it missed! But at least he'd released
her right foot. She scrambled away and bounced up.
A pleased smile played about Feighan's mouth, but it came nowhere near
his eyes. That ran sweat down her backтАФshe was supposed to be enjoying
this, not him. He ambled toward her, as flat-footed as a bear, and damn near
as big.
With a shout she launched another attack, a flurry of chops and kicks and
punches. Half missed entirely. The others thwacked into slabs of muscle
without provoking even a grunt. She retreated a meter and studied him.
His sandy hair was tousled and his blue workshirt torn. His only
expression was the remnant of his smile. His breath came soft and easy.
Fear slipped into her, then, bubbled up her spine and sizzled in her brain.
This wasn't at all what she'd been expecting. She should have been warned!
The guy was a killer. He'd taken her best shot and hadn't even tried to reply
in kind.
Uh-uh, she decided abruptly, Hommroummy wants the kid, Hommroummy
can snatch him himself. She spun and dove for the door. Before she could
reach it, the ceiling fell in. The floor slapped her face. Huge hands clutched
her wrists and tugged them behind her back without even noticing her
resistance. ThenтАФshe was so insulted she could have screamedтАФ one of
them fettered both her hands while the other slid under her belly and
hoisted her to her feet.
"Do you want me to call the police, Pat?" she heard Buongiorno say.
"Of course not," replied the incongruously cheery voice. The bastard still
wasn't breathing hard. "The police would come and take her away with all
due respect for her civil rights to silence. It's a fine thing indeed, this respect,
because the innocent do contrive to have themselves arrestedтАФbut it's not
for this little lady. This little lady wants to talk."
"Bullshit," she spat out. "You're not getting anything from me."
"Boil me some water, Nicky."
"Pat!" Horror infused Buongiorno's exclamation.
"And isn't it your son she came to steal?"
"One kettle or two?"
"That's my little Nicky." He said it with genuine affection.
Dammit, she thought. Soft footsteps sounded in the front hall. She drew