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

closed and locked the door, then ran to the fire escape.

Uh-oh.

Now what should she do?

When she had visited the condo earlier in the day and found the bastard wasnтАЩt home, she had stood in
the corridor with tears trickling down her face, still unable to believe that he had cut off her credit, and
she had happened to gaze at the fire escape door. Then and there the idea had occurred to her, how to
get her revenge and all the crack sheтАЩd ever need, and she had impulsively unbolted the fire escape door
and departed using the elevator. Now that her plan had succeeded. she was stuck with the dilemma of
how to bolt the door behind her.

There was no way.

Shrugging, Fayanne decided bolting the door didnтАЩt matter.

She giggled at her triumph and fled into the muggy August night.

CHAPTER ONE




The chatter of automatic gunfire attained a veritable crescendo, causing a flock of starlings roosting in an
oak tree a short distance away to take flight in alarm.

His huge arms folded casually across his massive chest, the giant nodded in satisfaction as he watched the
six members of the Freedom Force practice their marksmanship with M-16тАЩs. Even when he was
standing at ease, the giantтАЩs bulging muscles emanated an aura of raw, unbridled power and vitality. A
comma of dark hair hung above his gray eyes, which narrowed as he concentrated his attention on one of
the six. A black leather vest, green fatigue pants, and combat boots served as his attire. Strapped around
his slim waist were his ever-present Bowies, twin knives that had saved his life on many an occasion.

The blasting of the M-16тАЩs temporarily abated as the shooters expended the rounds in their magazines
and went about inserting new ones.

His mouth curling downward. the giant saw the man on the right fumble and drop a new magazine. He
uncurled his arms and snapped, "Concentrate, Lobo! YouтАЩre not concentrating!"

"Says you, sucker," responded the stocky black man. He wore a black leather jacket, a blue shirt, jeans,
and knee-high black boots. Only five feet, seven inches in height, he weighed in the vicinity of 190
pounds, none of it flab. He preferred to style his hair in an Afro that crowned his handsome features.

"Cease firing!" the giant commanded, and strode over to the line. "What did you say?"

"Who, me?" Lobo replied innocently.

"Do you think weтАЩre playing games here?"