banana peel of self-recrimination, having said more or less those exact words not long before.
“But sir!” came Billie’s voice in protest from the hall outside.
The doorway darkened behind me, and I turned to find several large men standing there. The foremost of their number was a big guy, late forties, with an ongoing romance with beer, or maybe pasta. He wore his heart on his potbelly. His well-tailored suit mostly hid the gut, and it would have concealed the shoulder rig and sidearm he wore beneath it if he’d made the least effort to avoid exposing it as he moved.
“Demeter,” the big man said. “I need to speak to you privately.”
“You couldn’t afford me, Torelli,” Demeter replied smoothly. “And I’m in the middle of a business meeting.”
“Get one of your whores to get him off,” Torelli said. “You and I have to talk.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Regarding?”
“I need a list of your bank accounts, security passwords, and a copy of your records for the last six months.” He scowled, looming over her. Torelli was the kind of guy who was used to getting his way if he loomed and scowled enough. I knew the type. I tried to glance past the goons to see whether Thomas was in the hallway, but could detect no sign of him.
“One wonders if you have been partaking of your product,” Demeter said. “Why on earth should I provide you with my records, accounts, and funds?”
“Things are going to change around here, whore. Starting with your attitude.” Torelli glanced at two of the four men behind him and angled his head toward Demeter. The two goons, both of them medium-caliber Chicago bruisers, stepped around Torelli and walked toward her.
I grimaced. I didn’t care for Demeter much, personally, but I needed her, and I wouldn’t be able to talk her into helping me if she were laid up in intensive care. Besides, she was a girl, and you don’t hit girls. You don’t let two-bit hired bullies do it, either.
I stood up and turned to face Torelli’s men, staff in hand. I gave them my hardest look, which didn’t even slow them down. The one on the right threw something at my face, and I had no time to work out what it might be. I ducked, recognized it as a snow-speckled winter glove, and realized that it had been a distraction.
The guy on the left came in on me when I was ducking and kicked a steel-toed work boot at my left knee. I turned my leg and took it on the shin. It hurt like hell, but at least I could still move. I rolled to one side, placing the goon on my left between myself and the goon on the right. He threw a looping right hand at me, and I met his knuckles with my staff. Knuckles crunched. The goon howled.
The other one bulled past his pain-stunned partner and came at me, obviously planning on tackling me to the floor so that all of his buddies could circle up and kick me for a while.
Couldn’t have that. So I raised my right hand, clenched in a fist, baring four triple-wire bands, one on each finger. With a thought and a word I released the kinetic energy stored in one of the rings. It hit the goon like a locomotive, slamming him back and to the floor with a very satisfying thud.
I turned and kicked the stunned first goon in both shins, hah, then placed one of my heels against his hip and shoved him to the floor. He crumpled.
I turned to find myself staring down the barrel of Torelli’s gun.
“Not bad, kid,” the would-be kingpin said. “That judo or something?”
“Something like that.”
“I could use a man of your skills, once my health club finishes”—he gave Demeter a sour glance—”reprioritizing.”
“You couldn’t afford me,” I said.
“I’m going to be able to afford a lot,” he said. “Name your price.”
“One hundred and fifty-six gajillion dollars,” I said promptly.
He squinted at me, as if trying to decide if I was joking. Or maybe he was just trying to figure out how many zeros I was talking about. “Think you’re cute, huh?”
“I’m freaking adorable,” I said. “Especially with the raccoon face I’ve got going here.”
Torelli’s features darkened. “Kid. You just made the last mistake of your life.”
“God,” I said. “I wish.”
Thomas put the barrel of his Desert Eagle against the back of Torelli’s head and said in a pleasant voice, “Lose the iron, nice and