Ace in the Hole by George R. R. Martin

Author:George R. R. Martin [Martin, George R. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
ISBN: 9780553282535
Publisher: Bantam Books

10:00 P.M.

Spector was relieved when it was time to leave. Everyone said their goodbyes, except Armand, who didn’t look like he could say anything. Tony slipped Shelly an envelope as they stood in the doorway. Spector figured there was a check in it. Shelly waved goodbye and closed the door. Spector and Tony headed down the stairs toward the car.

“You see what they’re like if you give them half a chance,” Tony said. “Oh, son of a bitch.” He was looking at the car. Someone had spray painted “BARNETT. FOR PRESIDENT!” in six-inch yellow letters on the Regal.

Spector didn’t say anything, but figured that the Hartmann stickers on Tony’s car had made it too much of a temptation for the jerks with the spray paint. “What do you bet it was those shitheads in the Chevy?”

“Good guess.” The voice came from behind them. Spector and Tony spun around. There were seven of them, clad in sweat-stained T-shirts and denim jeans. The largest had on a brown leather flight jacket. “We don’t much like being called shitheads, though. I think we need to teach you some manners.” There were grunts of approval from the others.

Spector had seen and heard it all before, but this time it was different. He couldn’t just kill these punks, or Tony would figure out he was an ace. Seven to two was lousy odds. They were going to take a beating.

The boy in the jacket slipped on some brass knucks and walked straight toward Tony. The others spread out and moved in. Tony was in a crouch, fists raised. Spector moved over next to him. Hopefully, he could keep the guy with the knucks busy. It’d hurt, but he’d heal in a hurry. Tony wouldn’t. At least none of them were showing knives or guns.

The leader took a wild swing at Tony and got a hard, straight right to the jaw as a reward. The kid was knocked back a step, but the others swarmed in. Spector caught one of the punks in the throat with a flailing elbow, but this wasn’t his kind of fighting. They quickly hammered him to the sidewalk, and started kicking him in the stomach. Spector rolled into a ball and protected his head. They kept on kicking the shit out of him for a few moments, then stopped.

“Let’s teach these joker-pokers a real lesson now.” The kid spoke with the bravado only a pea-brained street punk can manage.

Spector rolled over and looked up. Tony was lying next to him, blood coming from his mouth and nose; eyes closed. He was out. The kid in the jacket pulled out a switchblade and clicked it open. Spector knew game time was over. He blinked a few times to clear his head before killing the kid.

There was a gunshot from the window behind them. The kid went down with a funny look on his face, his switchblade spinning off into the darkness. The other punks scattered before Spector could get up. The kid had gotten over the initial shock of being shot and was now screaming on the sidewalk.

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