Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson Read Online Free Page B

could see him thinking it over. Asking himself, is this
just some dumb bimbo, or is something going on here?
    His training kicked in.
    His hand went for the Tec-9.
    I anticipated the move and kicked to the
side, my right foot striking just below his knee cap. I followed
the blow through, scraping the side of my shoe down his shin,
drilling the stiletto heel into his instep.
    He bellowed like a bull.
    Without pause, I brought a knife hand blow to
his forearm, targeting his radial nerve just below the elbow.
Localized strikes are hard to pull off on a moving target, but I
was fast.
    The Tec-9 fell from his grip and swung on its
sling. I grabbed the strap, dropped, and jerked it off his
shoulder, twisting as I did. Then I released. The machine gun
skittered across flagstones without going off.
    I moved to follow-up with a chin jab, missing
and hitting his chest. High heels were effective weapons, but they
also made balancing trickier. By putting so much of my weight
behind the stab to his foot and the blow to his arm, I’d left
myself unbalanced.
    I saw him aim the palm of his hand for my
chin, but I couldn’t reverse my momentum fast enough.
    My head snapped backward, the blow clanging
through my skull. My brain stuttered, overtaken with too much
stimuli at once. I staggered, almost going down. Motes of light
swirled in my vision just as the pain came.
    He lunged at me again, slamming a fist into
my solar plexus.
    Air burst from my lungs, and I doubled over
and tried not to puke.
    He came at me again, an old-fashioned right
hook this time.
    I twisted out of the way, causing his attack
to bounce off the top of my skull. But even though it was a
glancing blow, the force clanged through my head like a fire bell.
I was able to get in close and respond with an elbow strike,
snapping it up under his chin, but I wasn’t sure the behemoth even
felt it.
    “That’s enough.”
    I heard the unmistakable sound of someone
racking a semi-auto.
    Udelhoffer and I both stumbled to a halt.
Above us on the steps, Hawk Nose glared down, a 9mm pointed at my
chest.
    Another dark-haired man emerged from the
house, one I hadn’t seen before. Wearing a white Scarface suit, he
held an automatic pistol.
    Outnumbered and outgunned, I dropped my gaze
and rounded my shoulders, looking submissive.
    “Take her inside. Think you can handle that,
Udelhoffer?”
    The brute grumbled, breathing hard. He
wrapped his left arm around my right like a bridegroom escorting me
down the aisle, then grabbed my hand, locking me into place by his
side. It was a hold often used by police to convince unruly
civilians to come along without a fuss. Just a little pressure and
he could easily bring me to the ground or break my elbow.
    I gasped as if he was hurting me. “Let me go.
Please.”
    He forced me back in the direction of the
house.
    The pulse of helicopter blades speeding up
their rotation registered somewhere in the back of my mind. If that
craft lifted off, Julianne was gone.
    I couldn’t let that happen.
    The man’s training and size would enable him
to counter any move I threw at him. My only shot was suckering him
into underestimating me. I thrashed against him ineffectively,
hoping to convince him this was all I had left to give.
    “Knock it off.” He put pressure on my wrist,
and I let out a cry of pain that wasn’t entirely acting.
    I let him lead me past the pool, and we
started up the shallow flagstone steps. Above us, Hawk Nose lowered
his pistol. Apparently satisfied that Udelhoffer was under control,
he and the other man turned and slipped into the house ahead of
us.
    Halfway up, I stumbled a little, getting out
of step, throwing him slightly off balance. Then I made my
move.
    I veered toward him and reached down with my
free hand, grabbing his balls and yanking them like the handle of a
Nautilus machine.
    He released my arm, buckling over with a
grunt. No matter how much hand-to-hand training a man had, when you
went below the belt he forgot