Broadway Bounty

Chapter Nineteen

Decker didn’t hear the window open, but he heard a step on the windowsill. Linda was dead weight on his chest, and by the time he’d struggled out from beneath her, it was too late.

The man was on him, and a fist crashed into his face. He fell off the bed, reaching for the gun on the night table, but the man was there ahead of him and snatched it away.

“What’s wrong—?” Linda said, coming awake.

“Quiet!” the man snapped. “Put on some light, girl!”

“Decker—”

“Do as he says,” Decker said from the floor.

She leaned over and lighted the lamp on the night table on her side. In the yellow light that bathed the room, her naked body looked golden.

Decker looked at the man and saw him looking at Linda, licking his lips. Before he could react, however, the man had moved to Linda’s side of the bed and had taken hold of her by the hair.

“She’s a beauty, huh?” the man asked.

Decker, still sitting on the floor, didn’t reply. The gun the man had taken from the table was not in his hand. Instead, he had a straight razor held against her throat. Her eyes were wide and fixed on Decker, but he could see that she had not panicked.

“I said she’s a beauty, ain’t she?” the man said again. Obviously he wanted an answer.

“Yes, she is.”

“Yeah,” the man said, licking his bottom lip. He moved his hand down from her neck to her breasts, where he pressed the blade against one of her nipples. “Real nice!”

“Decker—” she said, biting her lip.

“Why is she calling you Decker?” the man asked, looking puzzled. “Your name’s Dover.”

“No, my name’s Decker.”

“But—oh, I get it,” the man said. “You’re using a phony name.”

“I’m using my real and only name,” Decker said, “and it’s Decker. Are you sure you’ve got the right man?”

“I’ve got the right girl,” the man said, frowning. He leaned down so that his mouth was against Linda’s ear and asked, “How many men you got, girl?” The man pressed his blade tightly against her nipple. A small drop of blood appeared, and she gasped. “That’s what they like you to think, women,” he said. “That you’re the only one.”

“You don’t like women, do you?”

“I like them,” the man said, “I like to cut their nipples off.” He looked at Decker and added, “And I like to cut them while their men watch.”

“Only I’m not her man.”

“Ah,” the man with the razor said, “now we’re getting someplace. Dover’s her man, right?”

“Right,” Decker said, “and if he catches me here with her, he’ll kill me.”

“Is he coming here?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Decker shrugged, still trying to figure a way to his feet.

“When did you say he was coming, Linda?” Decker asked Linda, hoping that she wasn’t too far gone to go along with the play. “It’s nearly midnight now.”

“He—he said he’d be here at one.”

“See?” Decker said. “I’m running late already. He’ll be here soon. I have to get out of here—” Decker said, starting to rise.

“You sit back down there on the floor, friend, or I’ll cut her tit off,” the man snapped.

Decker watched as he moved the razor from her nipple to the top slope of her right breast.

“I’ve done this before, you know,” the man said. “You start here and just cut around.” He made a circuit of her breast and then stopped at the upper slope again. “It comes right off in your hand,” he said, sliding his other hand underneath to cup her breast. “I’ve cut off some big ones. These aren’t too big, but they’re nice and firm. Probably weigh as much as a small puppy.”

“Well, like I told you,” Decker said, standing up, “I’m not her man, so if you’re going to cut off her breast I wish you’d wait until I leave. That’s got to be messy.”

Decker was standing now, in a much better position to mount an offensive.

The man with the razor was confused—it was plain on his face. He had one hand underneath her breast and one above, holding the razor. The gun he’d taken from the night table was in his pocket, and he didn’t have one of his own.

“I’m getting dressed.”

“Stop!”

He removed both hands from Linda’s breast, and she sprawled onto the bed.

Now was the time for Decker to move, while the razor man was trying to get the gun from his pocket.

Decker launched himself over the bed and slammed into the man waist high. He felt the razor open his back as they fell to the floor. The razor man’s hand was flailing away, trying to cut him again, while his other hand was pinned in his pocket, trying to get the gun out. His hand had closed around the gun, but there wasn’t much he could do while they were both lying on it.

Decker knew this and knew he had to act fast. He set his left hand against the floor, lifted his weight up off the man and then swung his right fist in a short, vicious arc against the man’s chin.

Decker then came down hard on the man’s wrist to jar the razor loose, just in case he was playing possum. He turned him over to get his gun out. As he put his hand in the man’s pocket, the man groaned and came awake, and his finger jerked the trigger. The gun was pointed at his own stomach. Decker felt the body jerk and then go limp.

He stood up and looked at Linda, who was sitting up in bed now.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

“Y-yes,” she said, “but you’re not.”

“What?”

“Your back,” she said. “It’s all full of blood.”