The Death of Lorenzo Jones Read Online Free PDF Page A

swept toward Hook’s head, ready to start digging. Hook had gotten his name for a reason, however, and leaping to the
     left, he let Killer fly. Just as the big mug’s face went by, Hook smashed a straight right into his nose. Crack, they all
     heard it break, and blood streamed down the nostrils that looked like they belonged more on a horse than a person.
    “Want more?” Hook asked, his fists raised in the classic boxing pose. Behind those fists was an expert boxer, one who could
     weave and duck and throw out jabs that would make his opponent’s head spin. Killer was still shaking his head, trying to clear
     it.
    Hook heard a noise to his side and turned to see Walter-the-Waiter coming at him with the blackjack. Walter seemed to snarl;
     a strange, animal sound issued from his throat. Walter wasn’t nearly as large as Killer Dumbrowsky but was covered with muscles.
     At the gym they said he could press 500 pounds.
    Walter leaped at Hook, who danced away, leaving the man floundering in space.
    Walter flailed madly at Hook with the blackjack, swinging it every which way, but Hook kept dancing backward and off to the
     side. He played with Walter for a few seconds before he started punching. His first jab got Walter right in the eyebrow. His
     head jerked back like he’d been hit with a hammer. Hook moved in as Walter raised the mean little weapon in his hand, and
     caught him square on the jaw.
    Walter grunted and raised his hand again.
    “Fools never learn, do they?” Hook asked and gave Walter the old one-two.
    The first one caught Walter on the side of the head. As his body fell, Hook gave him a sharp uppercut with his right. That
     was it for Walter-the-Waiter. He pitched forward, his body stiff as a piece of wood, and fell face down onto the sidewalk.
    Half-Pint, who had been standing off to the side smirking, didn’t look so happy now. He started jumping up and down in frantic
     fear.
    “Get him, you idiots,” he yelled at Killer Dumbrowsky who stood about ten feet away rubbing his head. Dumbrowsky didn’t look
     enthusiastic about the task, but he stood up straight and headed back toward Hook, who just waited.
    “That’s it, Killer! Get him! Break his neck. Smash his face.” Half-Pint was in a rage now. He wasn’t going to let some lousy
     dick like Hook get one over on him. Especially when he didn’t have to do the fighting.
    Killer approached cautiously. He waved his fists around in front, trying to catch Hook on the shoulder. But Hook just kept
     moving, staying out of Killer’s range only by inches.
    Killer looked increasingly frustrated. “I’m gonna get you, worm,” Dumbrowsky yelled.
    “Well, you don’t have to look far to find me,” Hook said. He sneered at his attacker.
    Killer Dumbrowsky had had enough. He leaped through the air, 340 pounds of angry flesh aimed at Hook’s head.
    Hook spun and tried to move out from under the giant’s weight. He had just about gotten away, when Killer reached backward
     with his long arm and caught Hook by the hair. He pulled Hook forward and got him in a headlock with his other arm. He had
     the bastard now, the creep who had just humiliated him.
    “Yeah, break his head. Now, do it now,” Half-Pint screamed, jumping up and down like some broken jack-in-a-box. At last, he’d
     gotten Hook.
    Killer’s bald head glistened in the bright sun as he tightened his grip around Hook’s head. Just as Killer began to smile,
     he screamed. And screamed again, for Hook’s hand had reached down and grabbed the big oaf’s nuts, and he held on.
    Dumbrowsky straightened up like a telephone pole and then collapsed. He seemed not to know which way to move, but jerked about
     frantically like a fish out of water at the end of a line.
    “Aahh, enough,” Hook said, and he let go of the giant’s jewels. “Here, let me take a look at you.”
    Hook stood up and looked at Killer Dumbrowsky, who seemed unsure whether to scream, cry, or just fall down. He had both