The Night Killer - By Beverly Connor Page 0,93

holding the bars so tight her hands were aching. “You’re the devil, Leland Conrad, and you can’t dress yourself up as anything good, decent, or clean. You’re a dirty sheriff and a dirty man.”

He glared at her, moved his mouth, but a retort seemed unable to pass his lips.

“Sheriff, don’t do this,” said Liam. “Switch us. At least put me in the cell with her. This is wrong. You know this is wrong. Why are you doing this?”

“I want you out of my way.” Conrad found his voice. He ignored Liam and spoke to Diane, spitting out his words. “You wouldn’t listen. Maybe now you’ll know I mean business.”

He walked away. Liam called after him.

“Sheriff, you can’t expect to get away with this.”

Diane heard the doors closing as Conrad walked up the stairs.

“Well, what’s this?”

The voice behind her was slurred. She only now really noticed the drunken, urine stench of the place. Her mind immediately started going over her inventory of weapons—her high heels, her hands, her knowledge of anatomy.

She turned to find the three men watching her, their stares set behind drooping eyelids, their faces colored by bad habits of long standing. The one who spoke was a thin guy not much taller than Diane’s five- nine. He was red faced and had stringy hair and yellow teeth. Diane didn’t want to know what his clothes were stained with. The three of them gaped at her. They were everything her worst fears might conjure up for images of backwoods, small-town drunks in lockup. The man behind the talker was huge. He had a heavy padding of blubber over his entire upper body, most of it in a substantial beer belly. He had a scraggly red beard, a shaved head, and a leering grin. The last man stood off from the other three. He was tall and thin and grinned broadly. He was rubbing his crotch, tilting it toward Diane.

“What you in for, honey? Honey?” said the first man.

They all laughed at his joke and started coming toward Diane in a slow sashay.

“Elbows are sharp, heel of hand is strong,” said Liam, talking fast. “You know where the pain points are. Throats and noses are vulnerable. Solar plexus on the thin guys.”

The first guy was almost to Diane. She was shaking and he laughed at her.

“Throat or nasal,” said Liam.

The guy’s breath was disgusting. He reached his arms in a circle as if to embrace Diane. She punched him straight up under the chin with more strength than she thought she possessed. The man staggered back.

“Then again, an uppercut is good,” said Liam.

Diane’s heart was pumping so hard she could barely hear what Liam was saying from the blood rushing in her ears, but she knew he was trying to give her instructions. The rush of adrenaline through her system flooded out some of her fear. The guy was still staggering and shaking his head, disoriented. With all her strength, Diane punched him hard twice, a double tap, in his brachial plexus, a branch of nerves in the shoulder that power the arm.

He let out a howl and staggered back, clutching his right shoulder. The other two watched him flop down on the bottom bunk, whimpering.

His hurt was temporary and Diane was afraid she was going to run out of strength if she had to fight all of them twice. But for now, she could still feel the adrenaline surging through her.

“Thorax punches won’t work on the big guy,” said Liam.

“What the hell are you talking about?” the guy who had been rubbing his crotch asked Liam, marching up to the bars, glaring at him.

Liam reached suddenly through the bars, grabbed the waist of the guy’s jeans, and jerked him into the bars. The guy hit his head on the cell bar and collapsed. Liam held on as the man slid to the floor. Liam grabbed his feet and pulled them through the bars, and with two quick, devastatingly crushing kicks, broke both the man’s ankles across the bars.

“He’s out,” said Liam.

The big guy looked around wide-eyed at his other friend. “Shit, whad’ya do that for?” he said. “Ya could of just laid back and watched the show. Little honey missy here’s going to pay for that.”

He looked back at Diane, who was trying to stay out of his reach. She’d taken off her four-inch heels and held one in each hand. She’d thought of pulling one of the bunk beds out to try to keep it between her and

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