Shadow Walker
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
Twist the Knife
When Clint saw the blade slice through the air, he lunged backward to clear a path. The knife hissed past his stomach, but came back in an even deadlier strike. Clint lowered his left arm and tensed his muscles, fully expecting to feel the sharpened steel cut through his flesh. It did, but only as it was deflected by Clint’s block.
Without wasting a single moment that he’d just bought for himself, Clint grabbed the other man’s arm to keep it from swinging the blade again. From there, he pounded the knuckles of his free hand into the bones just below the dark-skinned man’s wrist. He thought he felt one of the bones snap, but couldn’t be sure.
When Clint stepped into him and turned to one side, he managed to catch the incoming knee before it gained any steam. One more hit to the same spot on the other man’s arm, followed by a backhand to the mouth, put the fighter out of the brawl.
As if trying to pounce on that very opportunity, Holling shouted, “A hundred dollars to the man who drops that prick!”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
SHADOW WALKER
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition / April 2007
Copyright © 2007 by Robert J. Randisi.
All rights reserved.
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eISBN : 978-0-515-14285-3
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ONE
Tad’s Billiards was the biggest business in town. Of course, for a town the size of Markton, Wyoming, that wasn’t saying a whole lot. Apart from earning as much as a few of the stores combined and holding its own against both of Markton’s hotels, it was the center of attention on Markton’s main street.
The place was two floors high and sported a freshly painted sign that most locals considered garish. That sign didn’t mean much to Tad’s regular customers, though. All that interested them was what went on inside.
All but one actual billiard table had been hauled away years ago. The one that remained stood by itself in a corner, collecting dust and beer stains as folks took in some of the more popular attractions. One of those attractions was the array of gambling tables scattered throughout the place. Another attraction was the entertainment that moved around the main floor, enticing men to the rooms above.
The working girls came in a wide mix of shapes, sizes, colors and temperament. They dressed in everything from clothes they’d stitched together themselves to fashions that had supposedly come straight from Paris. At any time of day, Tad’s was full of noises to hear and sights to see. Most of those sights and sounds were made by drunks stumbling to and from the bar near the front door. Thanks to them, there was no need for a stage show. They were also the reason why the barkeeps, dealers, servers and working girls alike all carried some sort of weapon.
None of this was kept a secret, but none of it discouraged the drunks from raising hell. In fact, some of the nastier drunks took it as a challenge to try and get away with something in Tad’s.
Nobody had ever accused drunks of being smart, but some drunks were dumber than others. The only good thing about them was that they were real easy to pick out of a crowd.
“Hot damn! That boy can play the hell out of that fiddle!”
&nb
sp; Although the fiddle player was barely plucking out a tune, he nodded a quick thanks to Andy Phillips and looked the other way.
“Maybe you should take it easy there, Andy,” one of the men at Phillips’s table said.
“To hell with that! I knows me some good music when I hears it and that’s some damn fine music right there!”
The two other men at Andy’s table chuckled and shook their heads. Both of them were in their early twenties, which made them at least five years younger than Andy. One of the men had a scar on his chin and the other had a chin that looked as if it hadn’t even considered sprouting a whisker.
Andy, himself, had a pockmarked face with uneven scrub covering his chin and cheeks. Short, greasy, red hair was plastered against his scalp and still had dust in it from his ride into Markton three days ago. He was a skinny fellow with a face that was always twisted into a scowl. Bony hands were wrapped around a bottle of whiskey, which he continually slammed against the table in time to the beat he thought he was hearing in the music.
“I wanna see some dancin’ girls!” Andy demanded. “Bring out the dancin’ girls!”
“There’s no stage, Andy,” the smooth-faced kid said.
“I don’t care! I still wanna see some dancin’ girls.” Andy’s eyes widened when he spotted a pretty brunette walking from the ring of nearby faro tables. “Hey now. There’s a sight for sore eyes. Come on over here, darlin’.”
The girl looked to be as old as the two younger men at Andy’s table and she responded instantly to Andy’s lecherous gaze. She had a round face, full lips and dark eyes. Her skin was tanned a light brown and looked smooth as silk. The smile she showed to the three men was even smoother.
“Howdy,” she said with a hint of a Texas accent. “You fellas look like you’re having a good time.”
“I sure am,” Andy slurred. “You want to dance for me?”
“I can do plenty more than that for five dollars. You can even take me upstairs and have me all to yourself.”
Andy’s eyes were like dirty panes of glass in front of an empty display case. They were hazy, with nothing whatsoever behind them. “Five dollars? I got more’n that.”
“You want to go upstairs?”
“What’s yer name, sweet thing?”
“Jill.”
“Jill? I’m Jack. You want to climb my hill?”
Andy laughed at his joke almost as much as his two buddies. Although the girl joined in a bit, it was plain to see that she’d laughed at that same joke plenty of other times.
After clearing his throat, Andy straightened up and put on the most serious expression he could manage. “Tell you what I want, darlin’. I want you to hop onto this table here and get to dancin’.”
“I don’t think Sal would like that too much,” she replied.
“Then get Tad out here. I can tell him how much I like his place. I’ll bet he wouldn’t mind if you danced for us payin’ customers.”
“Tad?” Jill’s eyes widened a bit as she nodded. “Oh, there’s no Tad. I think he sold this place way before I started working here.”
The man with the scar on his chin burped and muttered, “Just dance, bitch.”
Jill scowled and turned to fix an angry glare at the man who’d spoken. Less than a second later, she swiped her hand out and caught him across the face with a loud slap.
The two men flinched as if they’d also been slapped. When they got a good look at their friend’s surprised face, they broke out into raucous laughter.
“That might’ve been worth the five bucks right there!” Andy hollered.
Although the fire in her eyes had died down a bit, Jill wasn’t trying to force a smile any longer. “Any of you boys want to have some fun with me, or do you just want to keep it between yourselves?”
“You know what I want, bitch,” Andy snarled as the laughter dried up quicker than a puddle in the desert. “But before I pay anything, I’d like to get a sample of the merchandise.”
With that, Andy reached out to grab hold of Jill’s wrist and pull her closer to him like he was reeling in a fish. When Jill started to squirm and struggle, Andy only grinned up at her.
Andy pushed himself out from his table and forced Jill to sit on his lap. He then wrapped his left arm around her waist while using his right hand to grope her rounded breasts. “Ehh, I like what you got darlin’,” Andy rasped into her ear.
Recoiling from the smell of sweat and whiskey coming off of Andy in waves, she started to get up, but was shoved back down again by the man with the scar on his chin.
Pulling her in tightly against him, Andy said, “You’re gonna dance for me and I ain’t payin’ a fucking penny. But first, I might just have a little fun right here and now.” He shoved his hand under her skirts.
Before he could get his hand beneath the layers of material Jill wore, Andy felt his arm get pulled away so forcefully that it almost came out of its socket. Before he knew what was happening, Jill was lifted off of him and moved away from the table.
“What in the hell?” Andy groaned as he turned to get a look at who’d interfered with his party.
“Don’t those ears of yours work?” Clint Adams asked as he stepped between Jill and Andy. “The lady told you she didn’t want to dance.”
TWO
Andy was so drunk that he didn’t hesitate in getting to his feet and standing toe to toe with Clint. “And who the hell are you s’posed to be? I ain’t run afoul of no pimp because I was gonna pay for this bitch to do what I wanted.”
“The money’s right here,” the youngest man at the table added.
Clint nodded and said, “I’m not a pimp.”
“Then get the hell away from us.”
“I do work here, however,” Clint added. “So I get the pleasure of telling you men to leave.”
“Tell all you want,” Andy growled. “We ain’t going nowhere.”
When Andy got up, he didn’t have to wait long before the other two men joined him. The sound of those chairs being pushed back was enough to catch the attention of a few nearby customers, but not enough to bring the whole place to a halt.
“There’s no need for this to get ugly,” Clint said. “All you need is some fresh air and some time to sober up. After that, you’re more than welcome to come on back. Isn’t that right?”
Answering his question was a beefy man with an olive complexion who stood behind the bar as if he’d been planted there. His head was bald and thick layers of skin gathered at the back of his neck. Listening to what Clint had said, he nodded grudgingly.
“See?” Clint asked. “We’re all friends here.”
“To hell with that. I want that bitch to dance and that ain’t askin’ fer much. She’s gonna dance, or you’ll be dancing after I put my boot up yer ass for steppin’ in where you ain’t wanted.”
“That’s a whole lot of tough talk. I’m surprised you’re not winded.”
Clint had figured that would be enough to either back Andy down or push him over the edge. He was right.
Andy grabbed his bottle and took a swing at Clint’s face. Clint stepped back to easily dodge the bottle and even slapped the back of Andy’s arm to make sure it kept going away from him. As Andy tried to regain his balance, the other two men with him lunged toward Clint with their hands clenched into fists.
Clint wasn’t able to get away from the first punch and felt it crack against his jaw. The impact was enough to rattle him a bit, but not enough to do any damage. Clint was able to send a quick punch into the gut of the man with the scar on his chin. His fist drove in deep and forced all the air from the man’s lungs.
The youngest man at the table reached for his boot and got hold of the knife that was sheathed there. When Clint saw the glint from the blade in the younger kid’s hand, he could have easily made certain that blade wound up in the scarred man’s back rather than his own chest. But Clint moved the scarred man in the opposite direction, so he could confront the kid directly.
As soon
as he saw Clint focus on him, the kid with the knife hesitated and staggered a step. That was more than enough time for Clint to grab hold of the kid’s wrist and twist it in the wrong direction. The kid let out a pained yelp and couldn’t drop the knife fast enough.
From there, all Clint needed to do was toss the kid toward the door and boot him in the backside to make sure he kept on going.
Clint pivoted to get a look at the two men who were left. Andy still had his bottle in hand, while his scarred friend was tightening his grip around the backrest of the closest chair.
“Two of us an’ one a him,” Andy slurred. “I like them odds!” With that, he cocked back his arm and prepared to swing the bottle again.
Clint raised his left arm to block the swing. Although he stopped the bottle before it did any damage, the impact against his forearm sent a jolt of pain all the way up to Clint’s shoulder. Keeping his left arm raised, he slid it around the back of Andy’s neck so he could draw him into a powerful, right-handed uppercut.
Andy dropped the bottle, let out another wheeze and was shoved toward the door so he could follow in the kid’s footsteps.
Hoping he wasn’t too late to keep from getting dropped by a chair, Clint turned to get a look at the only man still standing near the table. Sure enough, the man had screwed up enough courage to take his swing. Either that, or he was just too drunk to know any better.
The scarred man let out a visceral growl as he picked up the chair and swung it toward Clint.
Clint could see the scarred man was putting all of his strength behind swinging the chair. That didn’t mean he was about to stand there and let himself get hit.
Moving in the same direction as the incoming chair, Clint managed to stay ahead of it until the man swinging it had lost most of his momentum. Now that he was in close to the scarred man, Clint could pick his shot. He decided on a simple uppercut and dropped the scarred man with ease.
Thanks to the liquor in his system, the scarred man was able to scramble onto his feet before he truly felt the pain from getting hit. His eyes were big as saucers as they fixed upon the closest thing on the floor that was within his reach.