Venetian Blonde: A Charles Bishop Novel by Dave Sinclair

Venetian Blonde: A Charles Bishop Novel by Dave Sinclair

Author:Dave Sinclair [Sinclair, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-06T16:00:00+00:00


For a moment in time Astrid and Bishop were united in one goal. And they were glorious.

They cut through the violent mass like a scythe. The two danced in unison, one entwined body, perfectly in sync. Like intimate lovers, each anticipated the other’s moves and struck when they would have the greatest effect. The art of their brutality was magnificent.

Firing, hacking, gorging, burning and blasting their way through the bedlam of two warring tribes, they out-gangstered every mafia hardman who had the misfortune to stagger into their path. They showed no mercy. Whether it was Salvo’s or Pugliese’s men, it didn’t matter; all met the business end of their guns and the steel of their blades.

After twenty minutes, they emerged at the front gate, bloodied and exhausted but alive. Without the other, neither would have survived.

The two trod away from the compound, dragging their feet, memory of movement the only thing propelling them forward. They tossed their spent weapons; every bullet had found a home.

Bishop found he had to concentrate to even walk. His body ached for rest, but he knew they weren’t done. “Head into town or cross country?” His voice was as broken as his body.

Astrid was equally unsteady, her black cocktail dress slick with the blood of her enemies. “Town, but let’s take the back streets, you never know who’s calling for reinforcements. We can beg, borrow or steal a phone. Then we become ghosts.”

They limped down the moonlit backstreets of the Italian countryside in silence, their tired footfalls and the occasional bleat of a sheep the only sounds.

Bishop was unsure if their silence was due to exhaustion or the fact that they were avoiding talk of what came next. For a brief moment they’d been allies, united in one goal: survival. Now it was a different matter. Bishop still needed Astrid, but that would soon change. It was a delicate balancing act. He needed to remind himself that Astrid was Astrid. No matter how glorious the warrior woman appeared with her mussed hair, she was still the enemy. Necessity forced him to side with her, but it was inevitable that the dynamic would change, and soon. Astrid would resort to her usual ways and Bishop would try to bring her to justice. They both knew it was coming.

Under the full moon, Bishop kept Astrid one step ahead of him, a tactically advantageous position. Or at least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. It also gave him ample opportunity to bask in her beauty. Underneath the grime, she was still exquisite. With a straight back, she strode forward, the slit down the side of her cocktail dress showing the gloriousness of her slender leg. Her face was smeared with grime and blood, yet her brilliance shone through. Even with the coating of death, she was still stunning.

Bishop’s tired mind reeled. How could someone so wrong cause such conflicting emotions? How could I be so attracted to someone who has wrought so much pain?

Any second, Bishop expected Astrid to turn on him.



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