The Vulture's Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

torched, not caring if there was an old man sleeping in one of the apartments. He had muscle behind him and a lot of handy cash, and I was banking on the clear fact that he would underestimate me. That he would see me as I chose to be seen—a young man, inexperienced, sent in to rattle his cage. He would not think of me as a danger. He would be convinced that from me he had absolutely nothing to fear.
    My bet—and my uncle’s—was that Frank Scanlon was wrong on all counts.
    I turned right on Riverside and 84th, the street ahead of me dark and empty. Lisa’s brownstone was halfway down the block. It was a warm and humid night, the lights above barely giving off enough glow to cast a shadow on the cars parked on both sides of the street. I never heard the two men coming at me. It wasn’t until I was tossed through a small gate leading to a basement apartment that I even got a glimpse at one of them. He lifted me to my feet and held onto both ends of my blue jacket and bashed the back of my head several times against the red brick wall. He then kneed me in the stomach and stepped back as I slid to the ground, gasping for air. The second man stood with his back against the three-foot fence and watched as it all unfolded. I was kicked twice more across the chest and stomach and felt a hard, crunching punch land against the side of my face.
    It was all darkness after that.

    It took a week to get me back on my feet.
    I had two cracked ribs and a bruised eye socket and a cut on my neck that required four stitches to seal. I don’t remember how long I was out and I barely recall making my way to Lisa’s apartment building. I do know I had enough left to stand in herdoorway until I fell into her arms. She told me later that she helped maneuver me down the brownstone steps, my arms holding tight to her small frame, and back to the street, where she hailed a passing cab. The driver got out and helped shove me into the backseat and then got behind the wheel and raced me to the Roosevelt Hospital E.R.
    I was kept overnight and released late the next morning. Lisa had spent the night by my side, and I convinced her that the attack on me was nothing more than a street mugging, even though my wallet was left untouched. “These guys panic,” I told her. “They might have heard someone coming and took off before they had a chance to take my money.”
    It was the first time I had lied to her. Right then and there I decided it would also be the last.
    “What aren’t you telling me, Vincent?” she asked.
    I turned to look at her, barely able to make out her beautiful features—her face thin, her eyes dark and hypnotic, her body shapely and soft to the touch. Lisa had an infectious laugh and the warmest heart of any person I knew. She was also a stunning young woman—rich shoulder-length blond hair and a manner as calming and relaxing as a warm bath. She was concerned about me, seeing me in that hospital bed banged and bruised. That was clear enough. But she wasn’t afraid, that was even clearer. I knew she loved me, and I wanted nothing more than to be with her for the rest of my life. But if that were to happen I would need to plunge her into a world far removed from the one she knew.
    “I didn’t see them, Lisa,” I managed to say. “It was so dark and they moved so quickly.”
    “They could have just pulled a gun or a knife and taken your wallet,” she said. “They didn’t have to do what they did.”
    “They’re probably a couple of strung out skels,” I said. “You can’t apply logic to their behavior. They don’t know what they’re doing. They let the drugs do the talking.”
    “I love you, Vincent,” Lisa said. She moved her chair closer to the bed and reached for my right hand and held it tight in hers. “And I will be with you no matter who you are or what you do. I need you to understand that.”
    I stared at her and tried to swallow, my throat dry and coated. “I know,” I finallysaid. “And I will