Page 67 of Dark Alliance
“Tony.” Cat sighs and inches toward him. “Tony, are you okay?”
He whips around to confront her, his face purple from wine and rage, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
She jerks back, her breath catching. “Tony?—”
“Fuck you!” Rising, Tony shoves Cat, and she falls with a loud gasp.
That bastard. “Cat, are you?—”
Tony whirls for me, swiping through the air with a broken wine bottle clutched in his fist.
I duck and slide, but I felt the breeze of his efforts on my neck.
A couple centimeters over and that would’ve been it for my jugular.
The man is playing to kill.
He charges me again.
Grabbing the wine racks for balance, I back up and land a kick to his face.
His nose crunches beneath my heel, spewing blood like a sprinkler down the front of his white shirt.
He stumbles away, cradling his head.
Cat manages to stand and grasp his arm. “Tony…”
I steady myself and start toward them. “Damn it, Cat. Stay back!”
Tony bats her away while swinging the bottle.
Her arm catches the sharp edge, blood slicing through the air.
Red floods my vision.
This bitch is going to die.
I yank my ankle knife free. “Settle down, Tony!” At this point, whether Cat wants him to or not, I hope he comes for me.
He does.
The rabid bull jumps at me with surprising agility, aiming that broken bottle at my face.
Tony di Norelli might have sixty pounds on me, but I’ve got speed, experience, and agility.
As I bend backward to keep the sharp glass from shredding my jawline into hamburger, he practically throws himself on my knife.
The blade sinks into his flesh, right between two ribs.
The jackass collapses, gurgling and spitting blood, with my knife jutting from his chest to the hilt.
Cat covers her mouth, her eyes wide, crimson still spilling down her arm.
Maybe fifteen seconds elapse before the bastard stops breathing altogether, the tang of iron mixing with the scent of dark, spicy fruit.
Tony di Norelli dies on the cold stone floor.
Chapter 21
