J.A. Johnstone - The Loner - Crossfire

Conrad studied her closely and didn’t see any sign that she was lying. Her story held together and made sense.

“We’d need to go tonight.”

“ Sí, señor, as quickly as possible.”

As usual, Conrad didn’t take long to make up his mind. He didn’t owe the girl anything, and helping her escape from the men who wanted to kill her wouldn’t gain him anything ...

Except the knowledge that he had not only saved her life but also helped free her from a hellish existence. He couldn’t turn his back on her, even though that might be the smartest thing to do. She had already told Dutchy who he was; she couldn’t do anything else to hurt him.

“All right. Let me get my hat.” Conrad already had the shoulder rig for the Smith & Wesson in place, so he left it on and didn’t strap on his regular gunbelt.

When the two of them stepped into the corridor, Morelli got up hurriedly from the chair. “I have to go out for a while, Morelli,” Conrad said.

“Then I’m goin’ with you, sir. Beggin’ your pardon, of course, but I’ve got my orders.”

“It may turn out to be dangerous,” Conrad warned.

Morelli shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Mr. Turnbuckle said to keep my eye on you, so I’m keepin’ my eye on you.”

“Very well. The señorita will tell us where we’re going.”

“To the waterfront,” Carmen said. “Where the fishing boats are docked.”

“Lead the way,” Conrad told her.

As they went downstairs, Conrad described for Morelli the three men they were watching out for particularly. The bodyguard was intensely curious, but didn’t ask any questions. He nodded and said, “Yes, sir. If I see any of the scoundrels, I’ll be ready for ’em.”

They left the hotel through the rear entrance Conrad had used a few nights earlier. As far as he could tell, no one paid any attention to them. But he hadn’t noticed Carmen trailing him the other night, so he warned himself not to be too confident.

After they had gone a block or so, he hailed a horse-drawn cab and helped Carmen into it. Morelli jerked a thumb at the driver’s seat. “I’ll ride up top.”

As the cab rolled up and down San Francisco’s steep streets toward the waterfront, Carmen said, “I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for your help, Señor Browning.” She sat forward. “But maybe I could show you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Conrad told her as he lifted a hand to stop her from moving any closer to him. “Where are you going to go, Carmen?”

“I have some cousins who live in Morellirey. They will take me in.”

Conrad held out some folded bills and pressed them into her hand. “Take this money. It’ll help you make a fresh start.”

“Oh, gracias, señor, gracias. I ... I cannot believe anyone can be as good as you are.”

“Far from it. I just want you to have a chance.”

The cab dropped them off in an area where the night air was thick with the smells of saltwater and rotting fish. Little slapping noises came from the docks where the waves washed against the pilings. Carmen pointed. “My uncle’s boat is down here.” She started along the wharf, flanked by Conrad and Morelli. When they came to one of the docks that extended into the water with boats tied up on both sides of it, Carmen said eagerly, “Along here.”

The area was dimly lit by lanterns hanging here and there casting feeble yellow glows into the gathering fog. Something stirred inside Conrad, a sense that not everything was as it should be. No one was around. The docks shouldn’t have been completely deserted, even at that time of night.

When he heard footsteps on the damp planks behind them, he knew his hunch was right. He stopped and started to turn, then froze as he felt the sharp point of a knife in Carmen’s hand penetrate his coat and shirt, and dig into his flesh.

Chapter 17

“I am sorry, Señor Browning,” Carmen said. “I really am. If I had not done what they wanted, they would have killed me.”

Morelli said in alarm, “What’s this?”

“A trap,” Conrad said, “and the señorita was the bait.”

It was true. Half a dozen big men had followed them onto the dock, blocking their escape. Conrad didn’t see Dutchy, but even in the bad light he recognized two of the men as Hans and Ulrich. The others were strangers to him but equally large and dangerous-looking. Conrad had no doubt they worked for Dex Lannigan.

Morelli started to reach under his coat.

Carmen cried, “Don’t! I will kill Mr. Browning.”

“Sir?” the bodyguard said in a voice taut with tension and strain. “What do you want me to do?”

Conrad didn’t answer for a second. The wheels of his brain were spinning rapidly. It wouldn’t take much strength for Carmen to slide that blade between his ribs and pierce his heart.

Not much physical strength, that is, Conrad thought, but it would take the sort of resolve he wasn’t sure the girl possessed. The odds were against him and Morelli, but Conrad had faced long odds before. Besides, he figured the chances of them surviving if they surrendered were nonexistent.

To think was to act, where Conrad was concerned. He answered Morelli with action, twisting his body away from the knife in Carmen’s hand, planting a hand against her shoulder, and giving her a hard shove. With a startled cry, she reeled away from him and plunged off the edge of the dock into the water.

He hoped she could swim, but if she couldn’t, there were a lot of boats tied up along the dock. She could grab a mooring line to keep herself from sinking.

While the splash from Carmen falling into the water hung in the air, the six bruisers charged toward Conrad and Morelli. The bodyguard pulled a thick black leather sap from under his coat and met their attack, wading into his enemies as he struck out right and left with the shot-filled weapon.

Morelli couldn’t stop all of them, though. Conrad reached for his gun, but one of the men tackled him before he could pull the .38. The impact of the collision drove him backward, his boots slipping on the damp planks. He went down, sprawling on the dock.

Seeing a big, ham-like fist coming at his face, he jerked his head aside. The punch landed on the dock, causing the attacker to howl in pain. Conrad brought his elbow up under the man’s chin and forced his head back. A heave threw the man off to the side, and he barely caught himself before he rolled off the dock.

Conrad scrambled to his feet just in time to meet the charge of another man, who landed a hard, straight left catching Conrad in the chest with such force it seemed to paralyze him for a few seconds. A second looping punch landed on Conrad’s jaw and knocked him down again. He lay there stunned.

A few yards away, Morelli bellowed curses at the top of his lungs as he battled against three men. His sap laid out one, but another grabbed his arm and held it while the third man sunk a brutal punch in the bodyguard’s belly.

Conrad rolled aside from a kick aimed at his ribs. Reaching up, he grabbed the attacker’s foot and twisted. A heave sent the man crashing to the dock.

The first man Conrad had knocked to the dock made it back to his feet, and reached down to haul Conrad upright. A punch from behind slammed into the small of his back and sent pain shooting through him.

Conrad was a good bare-knuckles brawler, but there were just too many of them. They were all around him, and no matter which way he turned trying to escape the punishment, another man was there to smash a fist into his face or body.

The same was true for Morelli. The bodyguard put up a valiant struggle, but he was outnumbered by men who were his equal when it came to fighting. He didn’t have any more chance than Conrad did. Both were forced to their knees, driven down by blow after blow, and then the kicking and stomping started in earnest.