She looked at me. Hard. Her face shifted from fright to ire in a heartbeat.
‘I came to check on Monica. I don't know you. I owe you nothing.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Do you owe Monica?’
The way she looked at me almost hurt. ‘Fuck you.’
I didn't expect that. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Fuck you! She's in this because of you.’
‘Because I worked with Viktor? He was my agent!’
Her face went pale. ‘Isn't that the problem?? Mister—’
First, there was a loud slam. Then the door came off the hinges. Two men in black balaclavas rushed in. I stood up to a gloved fist smashing into my face. I fell backwards. Hard. The back of my skull bashed against the hard Canadian Oak of the coffee table. On my back I kicked reactively. One of my socked feet—I don't remember which one—located the solar-plexus of the one that punched me. In turn, he fell straight down. The wind knocked out of me and dizzy, it took a bit to get on my feet. On the way up I saw Effie fighting the other assailant. She's giving him a damn hard time. Now on my feet I had to decide. Help Effie Faulkner, or deal with the masked man that came at me with Monica still in the kitchen...
Chapter: EFFIE
Excerpt from EMBOUCHURE, the first entry in the Services Rendered political crime novella series.
Copyright © 2024 by Archibald Fitz