Primer by Ty Patterson

Author:Ty Patterson [Patterson, Ty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

56

Cutter acted instantly.

Can’t turn around and fire. That will take too much time.

His left hand blurred upwards and caught the pan’s handle. He heaved it backwards, over his head.

Kuznetsov howled when hot liquid splattered him.

Cutter spun around and dove at him, but the killer had retreated into the dining room again.

He pictured it in his mind from his earlier visit. Couches. A glass table in the center. Chairs around it. A couple of stools. A wooden cabinet along the far wall.

Not much cover, there. Cutter lunged forward into the room, keeping low on the floor, his Glock raised high.

Kuznetsov’s kick struck his wrist like an iron bar and sent his gun spinning away. The killer, who had taken cover behind the wall and to Cutter’s left, dropped down with both knees.

Cutter rolled away just in time, evading the full force of the attack. He reared upwards with an elbow strike to the Russian’s chest. It was a brutal blow, and it would have broken the assassin’s ribs if it had landed true.

The Russian turned sideways, lessening the impact. His clenched fist struck down, landing squarely on Cutter’s throat.

He gasped, feeling the air forced out of him as his vision dimmed. He lashed up with his knees, striking the Russian’s back and throwing him sideways. Kuznetsov roared furiously, his face contorted with rage.

The assassin caught a stool and swung it around with brutal force. Cutter blocked it with his left forearm, groaning at the shock. He caught the killer’s wrist in a kimura lock. His grasp was slippery with sweat, and the assassin broke free.

Jenny screamed from the kitchen. ‘HELP! SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE.’ Her voice, high and desperate, pierced the air.

Kuznetsov rose lithely to his feet, his face red from the water burns. Cutter dove at his Glock, his fingers closing around it just in time to fire a burst.

Bullets peppered the wall, following the assassin as he fled. He thought he saw the killer’s leg jerk. Did I get him? Then the assassin was out of the room.

Cutter hauled himself up swiftly. He crouch-walked to the door, entered the living room. Cleared it and heard the front door slam.

He didn’t rush to it. Kuznetsov could be waiting beyond it, sucking me into a trap. He dropped to the floor and jerked it open with his left hand.

No killer outside.

He hustled onto the driveway to see the killer sprinting down the street. Cutter fired, cursing when he missed, and then the killer had gone down Twenty-Fourth Avenue.

Can’t risk going after him. He might have backup. He could even come around and get to Jenny from the back.

He holstered his Glock bitterly.

Kuznetsov had gotten away yet again.

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