Black List Read Online Free PDF Page B

was a razor, but it wasn’t up his sleeve, it was behind his belt, and the way the man was holding him, he could move neither of his arms far enough to grab it. There was only one thing he could think to do.
    Moving his mouth, he began to mumble, and the ruse created exactly the right response.
    “What the fuck are you trying to say?” the drunk spat.
    As Nicholas continued, the man drew him closer in an attempt to better understand what he was saying. That’s when Nicholas struck.
    In one lightning-quick snap, he whipped his head forward and slammed the drunk right on the bridge of his nose. There was a crack of cartilage and a spray of blood.
    The drunk dropped Nicholas, screamed in pain, and staggered backward.
    “What the fuck?” demanded the other man, looking over his shoulder to see what had just happened.
    Nicholas drew the razor from behind his belt and got to his feet just as the man at the urinal spun to face him. He didn’t wait for the man to engage. As soon as he was in range, Nicholas swiped at him with the blade.
    He caught the man just above the knee, slashing through his trousers. He failed to cut him, though, and the man became enraged.
    “You sneaky little bastard! Now you’re going to get it.”
    “Kill that little fucker!” the other drunk yelled from behind his hands, as blood gushed from his nose.
    Nicholas kept his razor ready, and when the man he had tried to cut lunged, he slashed at him again. But the lunge was only a feint. As the razor sliced through the air, the man pivoted and kicked it out of his hand. He then followed up with a punch to the side of Nicholas’s head, which sent him sailing across the tile floor.
    His vision dimmed and his ear began to ring as blood rushed to the site of the blow. Since he was unarmed, there was no mystery as to what was going to happen to him next. The only question was how bad it was going to be.
    He saw the man with the broken nose, blood covering the front of his shirt, stand and come over to join his colleague.
    “Now you’re going to pay, you little fucker,” he hissed.
    As the words came out of his mouth, there was a gentle whoosh of air as the bathroom door was opened and someone entered.
    From his perspective, all Nicholas could see were a pair of leather pant legs. He heard a distinct schlink as a collapsible baton was flicked into place, and then the real attack was on.
    The woman dropped the drunk with the broken nose first via a blow to the back of his right knee. When his friend spun to see who was behind them, she swung the baton and broke his right arm. As he howled in agony, she hit him in his left leg, sending him to the floor alongside his buddy.
    Without a word, the woman tore out both their wallets, studied their IDs, and then pocketed their business cards. Tossing their wallets back to them she said, “You’ve got five minutes to get the hell out of this hotel. If I ever see either of you again, I’m going to tell the world you tried to rapeme, only to get your asses kicked by a man less than half your size. Now get the fuck out of here.”
    The woman emphasized her point by putting the boot to each of them until they began crawling toward the door.
    After they had regained their feet and limped away, she turned to Nicholas. “Punching a bit above your weight class there, weren’t you?”
    His head hurt like hell, but he smiled.
    “Let me help you up.”
    “Thank you,” he said as she led him over to the sink, wet a paper towel with cold water, and handed it to him. “My name’s Nicholas.”
    “I’m Caroline,” the woman replied. “Caroline Romero.”
    That had been more than twenty years ago, and since then, Caroline Romero had never asked anything more of Nicholas than friendship—at least not until now.
    There were multiple ways she could have contacted him, yet the method she chose had been very unorthodox, as was her warning.
    As the ranch vehicle approached and the crew started unloading his belongings