A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(33)
Seemed like Daley was Utopia’s mole in the LVMPD, rather than the other way around. That wasn’t going to go down well.
“I told you not to ever leave this house empty,” said another man.
“Yeah, well-”
“Would you two shut up?” the woman snapped. “If there is somebody here, they’re gonna hear you.”
A little late to worry about that.
There was nowhere for Dominic to hide, so he’d have to fight his way out of the house. But he found himself facing a dilemma: use his gun or not? He was breaking the law here; did he want to compound the offense by committing assault with a deadly weapon or possibly homicide? If he killed someone while committing a crime, it would be considered murder, not self-defense.
Better in trouble with the law than dead.
The footsteps were approaching the room. Dominic readied himself, and the moment he heard them cross the threshold, he shoved the door forward with all his strength. It collided hard with whoever had entered the room first, drawing startled shouts, and rebounded as Dominic slipped out from behind it with his gun in a two-handed grip.
He found himself facing Carson and Spencer, as well as a man he didn’t recognize. Both Carson and Spencer were holding guns, but the shock of being hit with the door had knocked them off-balance and made them lower their weapons.
“Ah, ah,” Dominic said. “Guns on the ground, hands in the air.”
They complied with poor grace. Spencer was still holding her car keys, and he was about to tell her to drop those as well when Carson spoke.
“I know you.” Carson’s eyes were narrowed, and the seething hatred pouring off him was so tangible Dominic felt it like oily fingers crawling over his skin. “Dominic Russo. You fuck that Jew cop.”
Dominic remained calm, refusing to take the bait. “That’s me. I’m also a veteran Army Ranger, so I’d suggest getting out of my way before I have to teach you what that means.”
The man behind Carson spat on the carpet. “Letting perverts like you serve in the military is a disgrace to the entire country.”
Dominic couldn’t help it; he tensed, distracted for a single moment-and that moment was all it took for Spencer to throw her keys at his face.
He recoiled. Carson leapt forward with a savage yell, smashing into him, and struggled with him for the gun until it clattered to the floor.
Fine. Grabbing Carson’s shoulder with one hand, Dominic drove his other fist into Carson’s stomach so hard he lifted the bastard right off his feet. Carson made a horrible choking noise that cut off when Dominic’s brutal right hook knocked him unconscious.
Even with Carson limp and insensate, it was no problem for Dominic to support the man’s weight. He used Carson’s body as a human shield while he glared at Spencer and the other guy. They both had guns trained on him, but they were clearly unwilling to shoot their friend, and there was a healthy amount of fear in their eyes now.
“You gonna fire those guns in here?” Dominic asked. “Probably bring every cop in the area right to your cute little home laboratory.”
Spencer’s eyes darted toward the second man. “Boyd?”
“Get a stun gun,” Boyd said tensely.
She hurried out of the room. Boyd didn’t make the mistake of watching her leave, but it didn’t matter. As soon as she was in the hallway, Dominic heaved Carson’s body at him. Boyd went down with a yelp, and Dominic lunged forward to slam the door shut and throw the lock while Boyd flailed out from underneath Carson’s dead weight.
Spencer started pounding on the other side of the door, but Dominic was more concerned with Boyd, who was reaching for his dropped gun as he freed himself. Dominic flung himself atop Boyd from the side, sprawling his upper body over Boyd’s torso in a way that crushed Boyd’s arms beneath his chest and put most of his considerable weight on Boyd’s ribcage. He trapped Boyd’s head between his elbow and knee like a pincer.
Boyd thrashed like a beached dolphin, gasping for air-but because Dominic wasn’t sitting on his hips, he had no leverage to buck Dominic off. It also helped that Dominic outweighed him by at least seventy pounds.
Dominic smashed his elbow into Boyd’s face, breaking his nose. Boyd screamed, and now Dominic swung astride his hips, landing a couple of clean follow-up strikes that sent Boyd into dreamland with his buddy.
Spencer was shouting obscenities from the hallway as she kicked the door over and over. Dominic jumped to his feet, and just in time, because the next thing she did was shoot the lock off and charge inside.
He swept her arm aside, stripped the gun from her hand, and cocked his fist. But then, although he knew that in this situation it was patronizing at best, he hesitated. The taboo against hitting a woman was too deeply ingrained in him.
So, of course, she hit him first.
She had a solid right cross, almost as good as Levi’s. It split his lip, making him stagger backward, but he managed to block her next strike and get in a punch of his own-though still not as hard as he’d hit either of the men. She crumpled to the floor, dazed but conscious.
Dominic snatched up his gun and ran.
He bolted through the front door and down the street. Rebel barked again when she saw him, her front paws up on the side of the truck bed. But he was only halfway there when her body stiffened and her lips peeled away from her teeth in a vicious growl.
He whirled around, raising his gun, to see that Spencer had chased him out of the house. She was weaving like a drunk as she ran, apparently not recovered from the blow to the head.