Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,68

danced in his vision and he squeezed his stomach with his arms to numb the pain.

He felt himself being lifted up by the lapels of his coat. He dodged left in time to blunt a blow to the face. He grabbed Kuznik’s arm, but the man wrenched it back, throwing Piers to the ground. Kuznik pulled a knife and Piers scrabbled backward, deeper under the bridge. His coat caught under his hands, and he fought to stop falling onto his back. Kuznik reversed the knife in his hands and stepped forward. Piers heard the water lapping under the bridge. He was right beside it, but if he jumped, Kuznik would surely come after him. If he was going to escape the man, he had to stop him first.

Piers wrenched off his coat and whipped it around across the front of the Kuznik. The man stepped forward, slashing the coat into jagged halves with one sweep of his knife. Piers slid one arm out of the oxygen bottle’s harness and flipped the bottle around his front. Kuznik lunged forward. Piers brought his knee up, lifting the bottle into the man’s face. The impact felt like part slap, part crunch, but the man’s long arms stretched around it. Piers felt a light flick that built to a fire raging across his chest.

Kuznik grunted, rammed the bottle back at Piers, and slashed again. Piers dodged the blade by inches. His chest hurt like hell, but he swung the bottle from his other shoulder, freeing himself from the harness. Kuznik smashed his fists down on the bottle, ripping it from Piers’ hands, and drove it, top-first, into the centuries-old stone of the bridge. There was a tearing of metal and a brief hiss, followed by a screaming roar. Kuznik didn’t even move. Jet propelled by the gas pressure, the bottle smashed into his groin, doubling him over in an instant. He roared and slashed out. Piers grabbed the bottle’s harness, sweeping it behind him, over his head, and down onto the giant’s back. Kuznik grunted hard and dropped to his knees. He slashed at Piers’ ankles. Piers leapt backward and swung the bottle again, aiming for the man’s side. Kuznik brought his arm up to protect himself, but the momentum was too much. The bottle hammered into his forearm with a sickening crack. Kuznik roared and sank to the floor, his forearm unnaturally bent. Piers threw the bottle down on the man’s groin, grabbed the bag of diamonds, and leapt from the ledge.

The water’s cold was numbing. The pain in his leg and chest grew into a fire that threatened to overwhelm him. He gasped and kicked with his good leg. His face dipped under the water. He thrashed with his hands, pulling himself just far enough out of the water to snatch a breath.

The current was pulling him along, away from Kuznik and his knife. But, as he looked up, he realized his was heading out of the protection of the bridge. In a moment, he’d be visible above the water.

And Brunwald’s men wouldn’t let him drift away alive.

Chapter 31

Sidney twisted the key in the ignition. The engine churned and churned before it caught. She held the key in the start position and the motor squealed in protest, jolting her into releasing the key.

She put her foot on the accelerator and the engine screamed. She kept her foot down, but the car still didn’t move. The man outside held his gun on her and stepped backward. She gave him an unsure grin.

“Put in in gear, for Christ’s sake,” said a voice behind her.

She whipped around to see Little’s face looking up at her from underneath the rear seat. “Shit! What are you doing here?”

“Dying, if you don’t put it in gear!”

She grabbed the transmission lever and rocked it back and forth.

“Put your foot on the brake.”

She stamped on the brake and the lever bumped backward. A small display said, “Drive,” so she took her foot off the brake and stamped on the accelerator.

The car lurched forward, wheels spinning. She jerked the steering wheel as the car leapt for the end of the road. The tires squealed as she struggled to take the corner and ride up the slope to the main road. Above her she glimpsed a large flash of yellow and behind her she heard a terrific crash. She turned and saw a giant, yellow dumpster crushing the front of Brunwald’s Mercedes.

Little pointed forward. “Look, look, look!”

In front of her, traffic raced