“You can’t come in here and do this,” Lloyd said. It always amazed Jesse what people said in extremis.

“Of course I can,” Jesse said. “I just did. And I may do it every day unless we have a thoughtful and productive discussion.”

Lloyd scooted on his butt backward away from Jesse and scrambled to his feet. Jesse could see his eyes shifting, looking for a weapon. Lloyd picked up a brass candleholder from the dining-room table, charged at Jesse, and tried to hit him with it. Jesse deflected Lloyd’s swing with his left forearm, grabbed him by the hair, and ran him forward behind his own momentum into the wall headfirst. Lloyd let go of the candlestick holder and went to his knees and stayed there, trying to get his legs under him. He had more stuff in him than Jesse had expected. Jesse’s business was to get rid of whatever stuff Lloyd had. He kicked him in the stomach and Lloyd yelped and fell flat on the floor and doubled up in pain and a kind of fetal concealment. Jesse walked to a red leather armchair near the front door and sat in it and said nothing. Lloyd stayed doubled up on the floor, groaning softly and occasionally. Something annoying impinged faintly on Jesse’s consciousness. He listened. There was a television on somewhere in 2 6 3

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

the apartment. He couldn’t hear what was being said. But he knew from the sound of it that it was blather. After a time when the only sound in the place was the distant and indistinct blather, Lloyd stopped groaning on the floor.

“I never did anything to your wife,” he said.

“You’ve been stalking her.”

“I never—”

“I’m not here to debate,” Jesse said.

He stood and walked over to where Lloyd lay on the ground, took his gun from his hip, and bent over and put the muzzle of the gun against the bridge of Lloyd’s nose.

“If you stalk her again, or bother her in any way, or have anything at all to do with her, I’ll kill you,” he said.

“Jesus Christ, Stone.” Lloyd’s voice was up a full octave. Jesse pressed the gun harder against Lloyd’s forehead.

“You understand that?”

“Yes, Jesus Christ, yes. I promise I’ll never go near her again. I promise.”

Jesse stood motionless for a moment, the gun pressed against Lloyd. He could feel the air going in and out of his lungs. He could feel the latissimus dorsi bunch. He could almost feel it. It was as if he were able to project himself ahead into the sudden discharge of energy that came with a gunshot.

“Please,” Lloyd said. “Please. I won’t ever bother her again.”

Jesse took in all the air his lungs would hold and let it out slowly, and straightened and put the gun back in its holster. 2 6 4

H I G H P R O F I L E

“Get up,” he said. “Sit in a chair. Tell me your side of it.”

Lloyd got painfully to his feet. Jesse made no attempt to help him. Half-bent and slow, Lloyd got himself to a big, barrel-backed chair and sank into it. They looked at each other.

“I don’t want to make you mad,” Lloyd said.

“Let’s keep it simple,” Jesse said. “You leave Jenn alone, you’ll have no problem with me. You bother her again and I’ll kill you.”

Lloyd nodded slowly.

“Can I get a drink?” he said.

“Sure.”

“You want one?” Lloyd said.

Вы читаете High Profile
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату