"David Robbins - Blade 13 - Vengeance Strike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

gunfighter called Doc Madsen. He dressed the part perfectly, wearing a
black wide-brimmed hat, a black frock coat, black pants, and black boots.
His shirt, however, was white. A gun belt slanted across his narrow hips,
and in the brown leather holster on his right side rode a pearl-handled,
nickel-plated Smith and Wesson Model 586 Distinguished Combat
Magnum.

Bringing up the rear were two others.

One happened to be the recruit from the Clan, a husky black man
whose name aptly fit his character: Lobo. He wore jeans, a blue shirt, a
black leather jacket and knee-high black boots. His hair was styled in an
Afro. He was about six feet tall, his 190 pounds almost all muscle.

The last man Blade didn't know, and he promptly reasoned it had to be
Havoc's younger brother. He was surprised to discover the man in a
Special Forces uniform, and detected the Havoc family resemblance in the
young man's handsome, rugged features and striking blue eyes. This new
Havoc had jet-black hair. Four stripes on his sleeves indicated his rank.

"You're back!" Raphaela cried in delight, halting in front of the giant
and impulsively hugging him.

Blade couldn't return the favor because he had his hands full with the
Marlin and the Uzi. He grinned and said, "Glad you missed me."
 "Did we ever," Raphaela said, stepping back and blushing. Her gazed
shifted to Grizzly, then looked toward the gate. "Where's Mike?"

The Special Forces sergeant stepped closer. "Yeah. Where is my
brother?"

A shadow descended on the Warrior's face. He wished he could relay
the news under better circumstances, but he had no choice. "Mike is
dead," he informed them.

"No!" the younger Havoc cried in a flaring fit of commingled grief and
rage. "No!" His face flushing crimson, he staggered backwards as if struck
by a blow, then caught himself, glared at the giant, and charged.


CHAPTER TWO
The unforeseen assault took Blade unawares. Burdened as he was with
the guns, he couldn't employ his hands to ward off the youth's rush
without dropping them, which he refused to do. Instead, as the noncom
grabbed at the front of his vest, he simply tried to dodge to the left.

Unable to check his momentum, the young Havoc ran into the giant's
shins, tripped, and sprawled onto his stomach. In a flash he jumped up,
still in the grip of his fury, and assumed a martial arts stance, the
Kokutsu-tachi, most of his weight resting on his back leg with his front