Elements of Risk: A Noah Stark Thriller by Ridgway Brady

Author:Ridgway, Brady [Ridgway, Brady]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-12-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

I opened the door a crack, just enough to see out. A man was standing in the passage. He had an envelope in his hand and was wearing what looked like a hotel staff uniform. He seemed familiar. For a moment I thought that he must have been behind reception when I checked in. But that thought only lasted a moment; he kicked the door hard, slamming the edge of it into my face. I dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He was an old pro, came charging in like a pissed off bull, hoping to catch me on the ground.

He wasn’t quick enough. I slammed both feet into his stomach, sent him smashing back into the door. It closed with a bang. I was still stunned, but knew that if I stayed on the floor a second longer I was fucked. I didn’t know if he had a gun, only a fool would assume he didn’t. I needed to stay close to him, prevent him from using any weapon he might have; but I was in an awkward position, hemmed in by walls on either side, on my back like an overturned dung beetle.

I rolled onto my side and kicked him in the balls. That gave me the break I needed; I jumped to my feet. But he was back in fighting mood already.

Most people know bugger all about fighting; it’s nothing like the movies. Most bar fights aren’t real fighting either, they’re just bitch slapping. If they were real fighting there would be a mortuary vans parked outside every bar.

Close quarter fighting is the most savage thing you can imagine. It’s two people going at each other without reserve, with only one thing in mind: the absolute and utter defeat of their opponent. Anything else is just fucking around.

I’d like to give you a blow-by-blow, gouge-by-gouge, account of what happened, but I just don’t remember the details. I do remember the bit right at the end though, when he finally got his hand to his gun and jammed it into my ribs. I thought that was the end. But his finger was outside the trigger guard and he was struggling to get it in. I grabbed the top of the gun, shoved the web of flesh between my thumb and forefinger in front of the hammer just as he squeezed the trigger. The hammer ripped my flesh, but the round didn’t go off.

I couldn’t let go, didn’t have a free hand. For a few moments there was an impasse. I broke it by using the only weapon left to me, my teeth. We were in an untidy bundle on the floor, his cheek pressed up against my face. I turned my head a fraction and bit his nose, sunk my teeth in as far as they would go, pulled with all my strength. I was left with a bloody chunk of flesh and gristle in my mouth. He had two holes in his face where his nose used to be.

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