"Elrod, P N - Jack Fleming - The Vampire Files 01 - Bloodlist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

impact was gone, but I was cautious of broken bones. Everything worked
perfectly, though--I'd been incredibly lucky. Twisting onto my stomach,
I stared down the road.

The Ford stopped, the motor cut, and the lump behind the wheel was just
levering himself out the door.

The only cover for fifty yards was long grass. The beach was just across
the road, but this particular stretch was clear of concealing rocks.
Except for the car, the only option left was a stand of trees on my side
of the road, which was much too far away.

The man was coming up fast and had a gun in one hand.

Anything was better than waiting for it. My feet dug into the ground and
I bolted for the trees like a frightened rabbit. He spotted me, changed
course, and yelled for me to stop. After hitting me with the car, he
couldn't have really expected me to do him any convenient favors.

In an open space a gunshot doesn't sound like a gunshot, not like the
ones you hear at the movies. All I heard was a flat, unimpressive crack,
then the impact sent me sprawling.

It'd been a lucky hit; we were at a slight angle to one another and the
narrow part of my body was toward him. The bullet entered my lower right
back, just above the pelvic bone, traced through my vitals and out the
front, just above the belt buckle. I doubled up and instinctively tried
to hold things in, but there was nothing. The sharp, hot pain was
already vanishing and my hands came away clean from what should have
been a bloody mess.

My would-be killer trotted up, turned me over, and stopped short as I
stared accusingly at his stupefied face. He was puffing hard and looked
ready to say something but gulped it back. He quickly leveled the gun
with my eyes. The business end looked as big as an open manhole. His
finger was ready on the trigger; orders were being sent from his brain
to the tiny muscles, telling them to contract. Before they could respond
I grabbed the gun and twisted it out of his hand. His finger was caught
in the trigger guard, there was a soft pop, and he yelped with surprise
and pain as one of the bones snapped.

He fell back, trying to get away, and I seized an ankle, jerked, and
pulled him down. His left fist swung up and slammed into my face, but
with little effect. I managed a weak, backhanded swat and left him
half-stunned. In another second his arms were pinned to the ground and
he was utterly unable to break free. It was easy to hold him still even
though he was built and muscled like a wrestler and outweighed me by a
good eighty pounds. He looked up at my face hovering inches from his own
and whimpered.