Death in the Hallows (Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre Book 2) by Jamie Sedgwick

Author:Jamie Sedgwick [Sedgwick, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, best selling fantasy, best selling mystery, fantasy, Thriller & Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Mystery
Publisher: Timber Hill Press
Published: 2012-06-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

I looked over at the two unconscious hobgoblins on the floor, and suddenly wished I hadn’t done such a good job of knocking them out. I glanced down at Butch and saw the glazed look in his eyes. “You all right?” I said.

Butch blinked and nodded slowly. “There’s something I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya, Boss,” he said in a weak voice. “I suppose this is as good a time as any.”

I frowned, looking down at him. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled weakly. “I’m retirin’.”

“Retiring?” I said. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But I also don’t want Talia to be on the SWAT team anymore. We made a deal.”

I grimaced. “You made a deal. You’re quitting? For real?”

“Sorry, Boss. A man’s gotta choose his priorities. After this is all over, I’m a family man.”

I contemplated that. “So… what are your plans? You gonna get a regular job?” I tried not to laugh as I said it. Between Butch’s drinking, carousing, and his general lack of ambition I couldn’t think of a single real-life job he could hold down.

“I’m not workin’,” he said. “Talia’s transferring to a desk job and she’s gonna support us. I’m gonna be a kept man.”

I laughed. Now that I could picture Butch doing just fine. “Well good for you,” I said. “I’m gonna miss you, though.”

“Forget him!” Curly shouted. “What are you, nuts? A few more minutes and we’re all gonna be toast!”

I snorted derisively, but then I felt the heat of the flames washing over us and realized he was right. It was uncomfortably hot, and the flames were licking closer by the second. Thick gray smoke curled up along the roof, filling the room. The dizzying scent of burning alcohol filled my nostrils, along with the sickly-sweet smell of all the flavorings and sweeteners. It made me nauseous.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I can break these cuffs,” I said, sighing.

“You can?” Curly said. “Well do it then!”

“Sure. One thing, though. I’ll probably have to break your arms to do it.”

“Eh?” Curly said in a worried voice. “You serious?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going to do that… yet.”

A slight whimper escaped his lips. I didn’t have to tell Curly that if it came down to it, Our lives were more important than his arms.

I twisted in the chair, trying to judge its weaknesses. I knew it wouldn’t be hard to destroy the thing. I could probably do that with just my weight. The problem was that it was made out of steel. I could collapse it sure enough, but what then? Would I be able to separate those welds? I thought not. We’d be down on the floor then, in an even more awkward position.

“Try to stand,” I said. I started to rise up, and Curly followed my lead. We made it about six inches before he started yelping.

“Wait, stop!” he cried out. “You’re breaking my arms! I can’t bend like that!”

I settled back into the chair and sighed.

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