Lair of Killers Read Online Free PDF Page A

hell, and his leg ached. He pulled another healing draught from his belt satchel and downed it.
    It seemed he had only put his head down on the crappy straw pillow when he heard someone, a soon to be dead man, knocking on the door.
    Bam! Bam! Bam!
    Jerrod sighed and opened his eyes. The knock came again, lighter this time, and he thought maybe the fool would have left him alone if he didn’t answer, but they knocked once more. He swung his legs over the bed and went to the door but not before grabbing his long sword. It slid out of the leather scabbard with a soft hiss. This was trouble. No one knew his location.
    Bam! Bam! Bam!
    A bolt of adrenaline surged through him, his lethargy gone in an instant as he stalked towards the door ready for anything. Enemies didn’t knock. No window. No way out except the lone door. The room was the only one with a bed big enough for him to stretch out, and his insistence on being comfortable might have spelled his end.
    Bam! Bam! Bam!
    Jerrod yanked the door open. “Who the fu—”
    It was Zandor. With a crossbow. The weapon was armed and pointed at Jerrod’s chest. Jerrod was about to move, but froze because he recognized the look in his former ally’s eyes that brokered no compromised.
    “Go ahead and move on back now, Jerry,” Zandor said and took a step forward. “Move!”
    Zandor did not raise his voice often, but when he did, it made an impact. For as small as the little shit was, there was a level of command in his voice that men twice his size would envy. Jerrod backed away, lowering his sword arm. Zandor flicked his eyes at the sword, and Jerrod let it slip to the ground. It clattered to the floor as he backed into the room.
    Zandor followed, his eyes never leaving him, his body never flinching. The smallish man was decked out for battle, with a multitude of knives pinioned into his maroon shirt and soft leather belt. The weapons never made a sound on his body, though, and Jerrod had never questioned before how that was possible until that moment. Zandor wasn’t what he seemed.
    “Have a seat,” Zandor said and kicked the door closed with a single flick of his leg. “And put your hands under your thighs.”
    Jerrod did it, taking a long, deep breath and studying the man across from him. Zandor was too good and in too good a position to overcome.
    This could’ve been Jerrod’s end, even after everything at the cabin. All for nothing.
    Zandor did not lower the crossbow when he sighed. “I never wanted this, son. I wanted us to be partners, friends even. I think we were once, at least for my part, and that’s me telling you the truth.”
    Jerrod scoffed. “You gonna use that pussy weapon or not? Get it over with so I can rest.”
    Zandor’s nostrils flared. “That’s your problem, Jerry, you don’t give a damn about anything, even your own worthless hide. A man who has nothing to lose ain’t much use to anyone.”
    Jerrod flushed with anger. “Then fucking kill me! Do it!”
    Zandor flinched and almost pulled the trigger. “I should, you know. I really should, you miserable son of bitch. But I don’t think you want to die today. If you did, you woulda jumped up right now, and I woulda fired.”
    “One bolt ain’t enough to take me out.”
    Zandor managed a smile. “That’s what I like about you, Jerrod. Tough as nails. But dumb as one too. Get that nonsense straightened out. Or maybe you are finished.” He glanced around the room real fast then shook his head. “Pretty shitty place. Even for you. Course, your cabin ain’t an option anymore, is it?”
    Jerrod stewed. Zandor was just fucking with him.
    “You know about that, huh? Put three of them in their graves. I blame their training. Pretty shitty and all that. Worse than you used to put out, I tell ya that.”
    Zandor rested the crossbow on the ground and nodded. “I know what you’re thinking right now. How did it ever come to this. That thought, that curiosity might be the only thing you wanna