"David Robbins - Blade 9 - LA Strike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

Beaming, she quickly closed the safe and swung the mirror into position, then hastened to the living room.
She was halfway across when she heard-the voices and her blood seemed to transform into ice.

They were beck already!
For an instant she panicked, wondering if she had removed the key and locked the door, until she
touched the back of her right hand to her pocket and felt the hard outline of the key. Terrified. she det*4
to due sofa positioned near the south wall stud moved to one side. If she recalled correctly, there was a
narrow space between the back of the sofa and the wall. She knelt and squeezed into the space, scraping
her shoulders, and wiggled behind the sofa, accidentally pushing it outward several inches in the process.

Would they notice?

She held tier breath, scared to her core, the notebooks and the wad of money clutched to her chest.
тАШThank goodness the bastard always left the lights on! He couldnтАЩt stand a darkened room, even when he
slept. Just one of his many quirks.

The front door opened and the voices became dear.

"тАФknow what to do when the stupid son of a bitch gets here."

The melodious voice brought a rush of memories: The night they met at EdithтАЩs party; the first time they
made love; the first time they did drugs together; her eventual addiction and his loss of interest. She
frowned and held herself perfectly still, thinking of the bodyguard. The Claw possessed senses like a cat.
-

"I know what to do, Boss."

That was him! The professional killer! She recognized his deep, raspy voice immediately. How many
times had she seen his tinted shades turned in her direction and wondered what he was thinking about?
Dozens, at least.

"Good. Then letтАЩs attend to business and get back to the China White. Gloria is waiting for me."

Gloria! That scuzzy buffarilla! Gloria was the one whoтАЩd stolen him away!

"I donтАЩt much like the idea of wasting the sucker here." the Claw mentioned.

Waste? Did he say waste? She couldnтАЩt believe her ears.

What the hell was going on? She heard muffled footsteps, and then the creak of leather as someone sat
down in a chair. The bastard liked leather furniture. All four chairs and the sofa sported the best
Corinthian leather money could buy.

"Can I get you anything, Boss?" asked the Claw.

"Not now. I need my mind sharp. Curtis wonтАЩt go down easy.

The name rang a bell. Curtis lemon, the dealer who handled a twelve-block territory on the southwest
side of Los Angeles.. She had talked with him a number of times, and even danced with him once at the