Fun and Games Read Online Free PDF

Sounds tribute.”
    Nothing else down here—was there room for anything else?—except two other padded doors. One was open a few inches, and obviously led to a bathroom. Hardie could see a white-tile floor and the edge of a silver mirror. He supposed that when Lowenbruck was in full-on work mode, this was all he needed. His keyboards and a place to take a leak or splash water on his face from time to time. The other door probably led downstairs to the third-floor bedroom.
    Hardie was about to head down when the bathroom door flew open all the way and someone screamed and rushed at him and hit him on the head with something really, really hard.

4
     
    I don’t make things difficult.
    That’s the way they get, all by themselves.
    —Mel Gibson, Lethal Weapon
     
     
    T HE FIRST blow dazed Hardie, made his vision go fuzzy, sent him stumbling one step to the side. The second blow struck him on the upper arm. The entire limb went numb. Some muscle memory kicked in just in time for the third blow. Hardie was able to block the hard, shiny object with a forearm.
    With his other hand he snatched out and grabbed a wrist, then twisted it hard. His attacker—a young girl, he could see now—cried out. Hardie yanked her out of the bathroom doorway and spun her into the room proper. Her back hit a mixing board, and her head banged into a monitor that was hanging from the ceiling.
    Hardie held up his hands. Tried to, anyway. His left arm was still numb. At least the right one still worked.
    “Hey!”
    His voice sounded strange to him. Hardie couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken out loud.
    The girl was wearing only panties and a T-shirt, and her ankle was bandaged. Her legs were lean and muscled. Her whole body trembled.
    “Get the fuck away from me or I’ll cut you, I swear to God I’ll jam this straight up your ass!”
    Hardie looked at the this in her hands. He couldn’t place it. Long, silver, metal. A tube of some kind. About two feet long, with the circumference of a nickel. Uncapped on the end. Then he looked behind her, into the music studio, and saw others just like it.
    A microphone stand.
    She had been beating the shit out of him with a mic stand.
    Hardie said, in a slow and steady and reasonable voice:
    “Give me that.”
    “I said, stay the fuck away! You people are making a big mistake.”
    “You people? Only one of me here, honey.”
    There was something vaguely familiar about the girl’s face, like he should know her from somewhere. Had Lowenbruck sent Virgil anything about her, maybe attached a photo to an e-mail? No, Hardie would have remembered that. Nobody was supposed to be here in the house. No girlfriends, no relatives, no friends—nobody. Hardie wouldn’t have taken the job otherwise. That was the whole point. Avoiding people.
    Hardie steadied himself, took a step closer. The girl responded by swinging at the air with the mic stand, then inching her way back into the studio.
    “Come on, now. Enough’s enough.”
    “Stay the fuck away from me!”
    “I’m not going to hurt you.”
    The girl’s hands fell to her sides. Her head hung low. Her entire body went limp, and she started breathing strangely. It took Hardie a second or two to realize she was launching into a full-on crying jag. He took a step toward her, said:
    “Look, why don’t we start with—”
    Without warning she lunged. Another hard, mean swing. Hardie was ready this time. He snatched the pole in his hand and refused to let go. She tugged. He held firm. She tugged again. He held on tighter. Uh-uh. Bitch was not getting her mic stand back. Bitch was definitely not hitting him with the mic stand again.
    Then she did something Hardie did not anticipate. She lunged forward, pushing the mic stand toward Hardie. His grip was not prepared for this. The mic stand slid through his fist and went into his chest.
    Both Hardie and the girl looked down at the pole for a moment before Hardie took a confused step backward. What had just