The Dog From Hell: Book Four of the Star Risk Series by Chris Bunch

Author:Chris Bunch [Bunch, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents, Military
ISBN: 9781440553837
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 2012-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

“It has been four days since we sent that ransom note,” Aren said. There was a slight note of pleasure in his voice. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to offer evidence of our seriousness.”

M’chel considered the situation.

There were Aren and two guards — one with a dangling pistol, the second with a blast rifle at port arms in the room she and Jasmine had been held in.

Good enough.

Aren reached in his pocket, took out an old-fashioned spring knife, snapped it open.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said, sounding very not sorry.

M’chel let out a sob, held her hands close to her face.

Aren stepped closer.

“Now,” Riss said to King in a very calm voice.

As she spoke, one hand came off her face in guard position, the other snapped forward in a palm smash against Aren’s nose.

It squashed, messily.

He yelped, more in surprise than in pain.

Jasmine snap-kicked the first gunnie in the upper thigh. He grunted, spun.

Jasmine had the gun out of his hands, reversed it, shot the other gunman in the forehead, then blew the top off the first man’s head.

Riss grabbed Aren by the hair, jerked his head down as her knee jerked up, ruining the rest of his face. M’chel ran him forward, slamming his head into the very solid chest of drawers against one wall.

He collapsed, soggily.

To make sure, Riss snapped the side of her foot down against Aren’s neck, and the dullish snap settled any doubts she might have had.

Riss went across the room in a rush, snagged the blast rifle from the second gunman’s dead grasp, and went through the door into the apartment’s main room.

The man who called himself Rabert and one other gunman were just coming to their feet, alerted by the shots.

M’chel shot the gunman in the chest, swung the rifle to Rabert.

He was lifting his hands, possibly to protest, possibly to beg for mercy.

Two guns went off almost simultaneously, almost blowing Rabert in half.

M’chel had a tight grin on her face. She was about to say something to Jasmine when they heard the roar of an engine, and a lifter floated around the corner of the building outside.

It nuzzled against the balcony, and Chas Goodnight, wearing coveralls and a combat harness, rifle in hand, leapt from its open door onto the balcony, shot the window out, and crashed through. He had a com bud in one ear, and a throat mike on.

At the controls of the lifter was Redon Spada.

In almost the same instant, the door to the apartment crashed down, taking the frame with it, and Grok rolled through, his paw dwarfing the blaster in his hand. He also wore a com.

Behind him, also gun-ready, was Friedrich von Baldur.

M’chel eyed them.

“A little late, boys.”

Von Baldur looked around at the carnage.

“So I see.”

“Come on,” Goodnight prompted. “Less chit-chat. Let’s blow this joint.”

The two women hurried across to the balcony and were almost bodily pitched into the lifter’s cargo area by Goodnight. Behind them came von Baldur.

“I am getting too old for this,”

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