Dread Brass Shadows Read Online Free PDF

uncaringly kempt. And looked so damned hard.
    “The name’s Winger, Garrett,” she said. “Hunter.” Her stance dared me to treat her like a lady. She wasn’t dressed like any lady. Lots of worn leather and stuff, that needed cleaning as much as she did. Lots of metal, stuff hanging all over her. She looked like a hunter. She looked like she could whip thunder-lizards with one hand tied behind her. Hell, she could knock them down with her breath.
    The name meant nothing to me. She had to be new in town. I would have heard of an amazon like her if she was a regular.
    “Yeah, I’m Garrett. So what?” Still gulping air by the bucket, I couldn’t get gracious.
    “I’m looking for work. New in town.”
    “No kidding?”
    “People I talked to said we might could kind of team up sometimes.” She looked at Saucerhead, jerked her head at me. “Kind of puny to have such a big rep.”
    Tharpe grinned. “Things get exaggerated.” He was loving it. The big goof. The way he was grinning I was sure there were wonders yet to come.
    “Not much call for hunters in the city,” I told her. “We can catch our dinner at the corner butcher.”
    “Not that kind of hunter, Ace. Manhunter. Bounty hunter.” Just in case I’d mistaken her meaning. “Tracker.” Her gaze was hard and steady. She worked at being tough. “Trying to make contacts. Trying to get set up. I don’t want to have to cross the line to make it.”
    She had small hands for a woman her size. Her nails were trimmed neatly. But her palms were used to hard work. Looked like she could bust boards with them. Or backs. I wanted to chuckle but decided I might be smart to keep my amusement to myself. Not more than ten thousand people ever said I wasn’t smart. “What do you want from me?”
    “Whyn’t we get in out of the sun, set a spell, down a few brews, let me tell you what I can do?”
    Saucerhead was behind her now. Grinning from ear to ear. She must have tried to sell him already. I kept a straight face. “Sure. Why not?” I hammered on the door, glared Tharpe a dagger or three. He thought he’d set me up. I was going to get him for this. Right after I got him for skewing the lap count. Right after I got him for about seven other things on my list.
    Dean opened up. He looked at Winger in awe. She snapped, “What you staring at, runt?” Still working hard at that tough.
    “Dean, we’ll be in the office. Bring us a pitcher. After you lock up.” No more free drinks for Tharpe.
    I stepped out of Winger’s way. “Straight up the hail.”
    I followed her while Dean locked up. She looked around
    like she was trying to memorize every crack in the walls.
    I guess Saucerhead was outside har-harring.
    “Take that chair,” I told Winger, indicating the client’s seat. It’s wooden, hard as a rock. It’s supposed to discourage prolonged visits. They’re supposed to sit there only long enough to tell me what they have to, not long enough to bury me in trivia. Theoretically. The real whiners enjoy being miserable.
    Winger kept looking around like she was sneaking through enemy territory. I asked, “You looked for anything in particular?”
    “You stay alert when you’re a woman in a man’s racket.” Another dose of tough.
    “I imagine. What can I do for you, anyway?”
    “Like I said, I’m new here. I need to make contacts, You could use an extra hand sometimes, probably. Finding people.”
    “Maybe.” Her alertness had me wound up now, She had something on her mind.
    Dean brought the pitcher. I poured. Winger downed a mug, stared at the painting behind me. She shivered. Eleanor can have that effect. The man who painted her was a mad genius. He filled her portrait with indefinable creepiness.
    I glanced back. And Winger moved so fast I barely had time to face her again before she had a knife at my throat. A long knife. A knife that looked like a two-handed broadsword right about then. “I’m looking for a book, Garrett. A big one You