Page 69 of Glamour and Grit

“No promises.”

I bite back a retort and kick the Uzi into the bushes.

“No way they don’t know we’re here, now. If we go through that gate, we can expect an ambush.”

“I don’t see any other way in, unless you can climb twenty feet of sheer rock.”

“It’s more like eighteen feet,” I say, sizing up the wall. “And I can use that utility box as a stepladder.”

He looks at me, and then at the wall and sighs.

“You’re going to need a distraction. Why did you have to go and kick the gun?”

He heads into the bushes and comes out with a gun in each hand.

“What are you doing now?” I sputter.

“I’m going to buy you some time to get up that wall. From there, you’ve got visual cover most of the way to the yacht.”

“Wait a minute, Axel. If I get you killed on your first mission, they’ll never let me live it down.”

“Just worry about your girlfriend,” Axel says with a wink.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say.

“Yes, she is.”

Then the idiot disappears through the gate. Cursing his stupidity, I start climbing the wall. It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible, either. My fingers and toes ache like hell about halfway up, which is precisely when a new storm of gunfire erupts from the other side of the wall.

Axel, providing his distraction. I really hope he doesn’t get himself killed.

I make it to the top of the wall. From my position, I can see Axel holed up in a security booth. At least three of Moreno’s men have himpinned down, but he’s got pretty good cover. He can take his time and pick his shots, whereas they have to be wary when they pop up to shoot.

I figure he’ll be alright on his own, at least for now. Besides, this was his plan. I’ll catch up with him as soon as Selene is safe.

I make my way along the wall, keeping my body in a low crouch to avoid attracting attention. More of Moreno's men rush down the dock, their shoes clumping off the sun-soaked timbers. I can’t help Axel without giving myself away. Hope he’s as good as he thinks he is.

I use a downspout to scale down the inside of the wall. Then I make my way to the gangplank, surprised to find it unguarded. I guess Axel really is stirring up the hornet’s nest.

I creep up onto the yacht’s main deck, gun in hand. Movement from my left catches my eye. I spin around, finger curling around the trigger. Something blurs through the air, smacking into my wrist with a sound like a wet towel hitting the floor.

Agony explodes in my arm. The gun falls from my limp fingers as Petty drags a heavy lump of steel on a rope across the deck. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a nautical pulley. He sets it to spinning overhead, the heavy pulley making a whoosh sound with every revolution.

“Hey asshole,” he growls. “We don’t take kindly to stowaways.”

Is there something in the air today? Everybody’s got a one-liner. I flex the fingers on my injured hand. It hurts like hell, but I don’t think anything is broken.

I go for the gun, but Petty lets the pulley fly. It cracks into the deck an inch from my grasping fingers. When did this guy turn into Jackie Chan?

“I have to admit, this is fun,” he says in a tight voice as he sets the pulley to spinning in a circle around his head. “I worked a couple summers at a renaissance fair, and my specialty was the flail. Basically a lump of metal on a chain to cave in your fucking face. I always wondered what it would be like to actually smash someone’s skull with it for real. Guess I’m going to find out.”

I straighten up to my full height and give him a snide smirk.

“You really should have just shot me.”

He shoots the pulley out again, but this time I’m ready. His weapon has one major disadvantage. It’s attached at both ends.

I easily move out of the way of the heavy pulley and grab the rope. One good tug pulls Petty off-balance. He stumbles forward, right into my uppercut. I catch him good under the chin, and he goes bonelessly limp, falling to the floor. Petty is out for the count.

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