The Equalisers. Debra Webb
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Название: The Equalisers
Автор: Debra Webb
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon By Request
isbn: 9781408970713
isbn:
He twisted one-eighty, slammed against the man’s right shoulder with his full body weight.
The silencer hissed. A pop followed.
Spencer shoved the man’s left arm upward as they went down together.
They hit the floor.
Another hiss and pop.
Spencer had a good thirty pounds and six inches of height on the guy, but the other man was strong. Enough with this.
Spencer drew back and jammed the heel of his right hand beneath the guy’s chin. His head snapped upward. A final hiss and pop erupted from the weapon clenched in his hand. A violent twist of his head and the fight was over.
Spencer scrambled to his feet and ran for the stairwell.
He buttoned his jacket on the way down. Ran a hand through his hair to ensure he didn’t look as if he’d just been in a fight. No need to tip off the clerk any sooner than necessary.
At the door to the lobby, he paused long enough to catch his breath. He opened the door a crack and scanned the area.
Two men hustled through the front entrance and spoke in Arabic to the man behind the desk. Spencer didn’t catch everything that was said, but he got that they were looking for him.
If those men were from the limo, he had to assume that the vehicle was still out there and that meant Willow would still be close by as well.
When the two men headed for the elevator, Spencer opened the door a little wider to watch them board.
The elevator doors glided closed. He counted to three and exited the stairwell.
Barely suppressing the need to break into a run, he strode across the lobby.
“Mr. Anders!”
Spencer ignored the clerk.
He didn’t have to look back to know the man would attempt to contact the men headed to the third floor.
They’d have to catch him if they wanted him.
He burst out onto the sidewalk.
Two things were immediately clear: the limo was still parked in front of the gallery and Willow was no longer standing at the shop window.
He ignored the blaring horns as he dashed across the street.
The limo windows were too dark to see inside, but the driver’s seat beyond the windshield was empty.
That meant that any other occupants besides the ones who’d gone after him were likely inside the gallery.
Withdrawing the Beretta, he burst through the shop door. It wasn’t like they couldn’t see him coming. But he couldn’t not go in… Willow was in there.
Other than the whoosh of the door closing behind him the shop appeared dead silent.
No signs of a struggle.
No milling customers.
Nothing.
He moved deeper into the gallery, around sculptures, beyond complicated displays of smaller pieces of artwork comprised of various mediums.
As he moved past the counter, a muzzle rammed into the back of his head.
“Mr. Anders.”
Spencer froze. He analyzed the voice. Male. Western… almost.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Three more men stepped out of the shadows of the farthest recesses of the gallery, weapons trained on one target… Spencer.
The man who’d spoken moved in closer behind Spencer. “Before you die,” he said, his words uttered softly now as if he were speaking for Spencer’s ears only, “I have only one question.”
He jammed the barrel of his weapon harder into Spencer’s skull. “Where is my wife?”
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