Title:
Stitched
Author:
A.W. Lambert
ISBN:
978-1-62420-104-2
Genre: Action/Adventure
Excerpt
Heat Level: 1
Book
Heat Level: 1
After six years behind
bars Chet Bennett is once again a free man. But it doesn't end here. Chet has
to find and deal with the people who set him up as the fall guy. Festering for
six long years, it has become a bitter obsession; he has to find them and mete
out his own justice before he can move on. But six years is a long time and the
forty million, still missing from the heist, could have taken the perpetrators
a very long way. They could be anywhere in the world. No matter, Chet is
prepared to sacrifice everything to find them and he has good reason: all the
evidence points to the culprits being his lifelong friends and, worse, his only
brother.
EXCERPT
Earlier, when I'd
arrived, I had parked the car under a street lamp, the theory being should
anyone decide to have a go at it they'd be less likely to do so when
illuminated under street lamp. Now, though, as I approached I felt my heart
rate increase a touch because somehow the street light didn't seem to be
bothering the two men lounging nonchalantly against the side of the Nissan.
I stopped, giving
myself maybe ten feet between myself and the men, but said nothing. The larger
of the two dropped a cigarette he'd been smoking to the pavement and
straightened, facing me. The second man, smaller and rangy, followed suit.
Couldn't help noticing this guy kept one hand in his pocket.
"Nice
car," the big man said.
I glanced at the
car and back to him. "It's a heap of shit," I said. "But if you
want it, take it." I held out the keys already in my hand. Somehow
something told me the last thing they wanted was the car, but right now I had
other things on my mind. I could do without any aggravation. It was worth a
try.
The big man
glanced briefly back at the car and shook his head. "Nah, I don't think
so. What d'you think, Wally?"
His little mate
gave a snicker. "I agree with; 'im; it's 'eap of shit."
Okay, now I knew,
this wasn't going to be easy. The two to one situation didn't bother me over
much. I'd been there before, learned the hard way, in the nick, only a couple
of weeks into my stay at Her Majesty's pleasure. I was young, good looking and
had a great body. The gay faction homed in on me in no time flat. I made it
clear from the start where they should go but they hadn't appreciated the
rebuff and sent a couple of hardnosed characters to persuade me otherwise. It
was in the shower and I knew instantly it was one of those times when the outcome
of an event would dictate proceedings for some time to come; in my case
probably for the rest of my sentence. What made it worse was one had a shank; a
makeshift knife made from no more than a sharpened toothbrush handle, not
actually a knife, but equally as lethal. Instinct told me to back off would be
disastrous so I chose the man with the shank first. He got me once; in the arm,
but the damage was minor. It was the only damage either of them did. And I
never stopped until one was unconscious on the shower room floor and the other
had retreated pumping blood; the face does not take kindly to being rammed very
hard against a tiled surface. I was never bothered again. So, no, two to one
was not a problem. The hand held in the pocket was, though. Was it a knife or
could it be a gun? Still I didn't want trouble if I could avoid it. I tried
again. "If you think I'm loaded, just look at the car."
Big man shook his
head again. "Nah we don't want your heap or your cash. I'm just here to
give you a message."
"And who's
this message from?"
"A
friend."
I stood my
ground, prepared, something telling me the message wasn't going to be all
verbal. "Okay, so why don't you give me your friend's message and we'll
say our goodbyes. It's late and I've got a home to go to."
He came in fast,
real quick for a big guy. I was prepared; at least I thought I was. I stepped
back and away from his right hand. Makes sense; most people are right handed so
stepping away usually results in the first swing missing completely or at least
resulting in just a glancing blow. Would have worked, too. If he'd been right
handed. The short left jab I stepped into caught me full on the side of the
head. I staggered back in a haze of flashing lights and stinging pain.
Instinctively I swung wildly, but I was off balance and although I connected
with something and heard a grunt, it was as good as it got. He'd obviously
moved to one side because the next shot came low straight into my kidneys. Pain
lanced through the whole of my lower half and the breath whooshed out of me. I
buckled forward making the perfect target for a roundhouse on the back of my
neck. As I went down, scrabbling on all fours, I thought this was not how it
had happened in the shower room. I tried to lift myself, but he was on me in a
flash, forcing me face down against the pavement. For a second time the breath
was knocked from me and I knew I'd lost this one. Curling his arm around my
throat he yanked my head back and I felt his face come close to my ear, smelled
his nicotine soaked breath.
"Now, my
friend wants me to remind you of a certain deal made a while back," he
rasped. "He thinks you had something to do with things not going as they
should've. Are you getting my drift?"
Feeling my
airways constricting under the pressure around my throat I tried to twist my
head to one side. "I don't know what you're on..."
His other elbow
rammed into the back of my neck and my head jolted down, my face colliding
painfully with the pavement. Now I knew how the guy in the shower felt.
"I said do
you get my drift?"
I tasted the
blood running from my grazed cheekbone into the corner of my mouth. No point in
further argument. "Okay, okay," I grunted.
"And my
friend is convinced you know where his merchandise is. Now, my friend is a
patient man, but he's asked me to make sure you understand there's a limit to
his patience. He's waited all this time, but now you're here and he wants this
thing settled. He wants what he's owed." The grip around my throat
tightened and I felt the other hand fumbling in my jacket pocket. "Now my
friend would much rather he settled things amicably. He's prepared to give you
a little time to think things over and do what's right. All you have to do is
ring this number and it can all be settled friendly like." More painful
pressure. "Mind you, if you don't co-operate." He gave a hoarse
chuckle. "Well, the outcome will be the same, it might just take a bit
longer. But as far as you're concerned it will be much more painful. Do I make
myself clear?"
"Yeah,
I..." Even as I started to speak I caught a movement from the corner of my
eye. Little runt was approaching, his hand now out of his pocket, wielding
something he was slapping into the palm of his other hand. What was it? It
looked like a leather pouch of some kind. A leather pouch filled with...Oh
shit. I jerked violently in an attempt to dislodge the big guy from my back,
but he was big and very heavy. The last thing I remember was the little runt's
rotten teeth as he leered over me his hand raised.
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