Free Hunt the Heavens: Book Two of the Shadow Warrior Trilogy by Chris Bunch

of here,” Kakara said. “This isn’t for you.”
    “Why not? Whatever this man wanted to do … wouldn’t it have involved me? I want to watch whatever happens to him.”
    “You think you do now,” Oriz said. “But you won’t in a little bit.”
    “Shut up, Jack. Rita can stay if she wants,” Kakara said. “But I don’t want to hear you sniveling to show him any mercy. The son of a bitch — and his friends — wouldn’t have shown us any.”
    He hefted the gun and stepped toward Wolfe, then stopped. “Jack. Let me borrow your penknife.”
    Oriz took a small, ivory-bolstered knife from his pocket, opened it, and handed it to Kakara.
    The shipline owner grinned, showing all his teeth. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Taylor, you ever see what a knife — a little bitty knife like this one — can do?
    “I grew up hard, in the yards. The macs liked blades. Kept their women in hand. I saw what can be done … when you work slowly enough. Anyone’ll tell … or do … anything.”
    He licked his lips, set the pistol down on a table, and walked toward Joshua.
    The Lumina warmed against Joshua’s skin.
    Wolfe’s form wavered, vanished.
    Trang shouted surprise.
    The air blurred, and Wolfe was there, heel hand striking Kakara on the forehead. He stumbled back against the table, sending the pistol spinning to the deck.
    Trang took three fast steps to the door; he was reaching for its control, when Wolfe knocked him down with a spin-kick and moved on, without finishing him.
    A gun went off, and part of a bulkhead sizzled, charred.
    Oriz had a hand inside his jacket, reaching for his gun. Joshua slammed into him, and he crashed into his two henchmen.
    Joshua was turning, inside their guard. A backhand rapped one of the men between the eyes; the man squealed and fell, both hands trying to put his face back together, gun dropping, forgotten.
    The second man jumped back, let Oriz go down, and was in a fighting stance. Joshua snap-kicked, took him in the elbow. The man yelped, grabbed himself, took a knuckle-strike to the temple, and fell.
    Oriz was scrabbling for his gun when Rita kicked him in the side. He grunted, rolled away.
    Rita had his gun in both hands.
    Kakara had come back to his feet. Rita was between Wolfe and her husband. Oriz pulled himself up.
    “Rita! Give me the gun,” Kakara snapped.
    “I’ll get it. She won’t shoot,” Oriz said.
    The heavyset man had taken two steps when Rita shot him in the throat, blowing most of his spine into white fragments against the bulkhead. His head flopped once, and he fell forward.
    The gun turned, and its bell-mouth held steady on Jalon Kakara.
    He lifted two hands, trying to push death away.
    “No.”
    Wolfe’s voice was soft.
    Rita didn’t move. She looked at Joshua, then back at Kakara. Her finger was firm on the firing stud.
    Kakara made an unpleasant sound in his throat.
    The dark-haired woman turned, tossed the weapon to Wolfe.
    He caught it in midair. “Now, let’s go have a talk with the bridge about meeting some friends.”
    • • •
    Wolfe knelt in the open lock, holding the blast rifle that had been waiting in the
Grayle
’s lock on Kakara, the
Laurel
’s captain, and another officer. The side of his face was swollen, the blood only half dried.
    “All right, Rita,” he said, his voice a little mushy. “I have them. Go on into the ship.”
    The woman put the safety on her blaster, started to obey, then walked over to Kakara.
    The two stared at each other for a very long time.
    Kakara was the first to look away.
    Rita nodded, as if something had been settled between them, and went quickly into the
Grayle.
    “My ship’s armed,” Wolfe said. “Cut your losses, Kakara. Don’t try to be cute.”
    The big man stared at him.
    “Whoever you are,” he said hoarsely. “You better learn to sleep with one eye open. And don’t make any long-range investments.”
    “I never do,” Wolfe said. “And I sleep with both eyes open. Always.” He slid one