Chapter 5 - The Ghost in the Alley
Gold-Tooth froze.
The lean man, clutching his bleeding nose, spun around toward the alley entrance, raising his iron tire lever. "Who the hell are you—"
THUMP.
A suppressed gunshot echoed through the alley—a low, mechanical pop that sounded like an industrial staple gun.
The lean man’s knees instantly collapsed beneath him. He didn't scream; he simply crumpled into the wet gravel, clutching his right thigh where a nine-millimeter round had sheared through muscle and bone.
Gold-Tooth slowly released his grip on Clare's hair, stepping back, raising his hands to shoulder height.
Nicholas Duca stepped out of the mist, emerging from the dark space between two grease dumpsters.
He wore a dark charcoal wool coat over his unbuttoned shirt, leather gloves on his hands, and the suppressed nine-millimeter pistol held with a motionless, absolute precision focused straight at Gold-Tooth’s forehead.
Gold-Tooth’s eyes went wide as saucers, his teeth chattering in sudden, overwhelming horror.
"Jesus... Mary... and Joseph..." Gold-Tooth whispered, his face turning the color of curdled milk. "Nicholas?"
"Hello, Frankie," Nicholas said softly. His voice carried no anger, no theatrical fury—only the terrifying weight of a dead man standing in the rain. "I see Marcus still uses you for clean-up work. You always were sloppy."
"Nicholas... I didn't know!" Frankie stammered, his hands shaking in the air. "I swear to God! Marcus sent us because the hotel network picked up an unauthorized key card scan! We didn't know you were alive!"
"I know," Nicholas said smoothly. "If Marcus knew I was alive, he would have sent twelve men with assault rifles. Not two idiots with a tire iron."
"Please, Nicholas!" Frankie begged, taking a tiny step backward. "We can make a deal! I'll tell Marcus I found nothing! I'll tell him the girl was just a maid!"
"You already know I'm alive, Frankie," Nicholas replied, his dark eyes entirely devoid of mercy. "That makes you a loose end."
"Nicholas—"
THUMP.
Frankie fell backward into the wet brickwork, his body going limp instantly.
Clare gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, her entire body shivering uncontrollably on the wet pavement. She had never seen a man die before. It was fast, quiet, and horribly efficient.
Nicholas stepped over Frankie’s legs, standing over Clare. He didn't look at the two fallen men. He looked down at her, his eyes unreadable in the dim alley light.
"I told you to go home, Clare Bennett," he said softly.
"I... I was going home," she whimpered, tears cutting hot tracks through the grit on her cheeks. "They... they were waiting for me..."
Nicholas leaned down, extending his gloved right hand toward her.
"Get up," he said. "The police will be here in three minutes. And if Marcus’s men catch you now, they won't ask questions."
May you like
Clare looked at his hand, then looked into the dark eyes of the ghost who had just killed two men to save her life.
She took his hand.
