Paradise Burns by J. P. Sumner Page A

close to her,
grabbing her right arm and moving so I had my back to her. Keeping her gun arm
under control with my right arm and my upper body, I used my left elbow to jab
her in her stomach, then again in her face. She fell backward against the door,
stunned but not out of it. She’d dropped her gun, which I’d very quickly bent
down to retrieve.
    Don’t get me wrong, despite what I do
for a living, I wouldn’t hit a woman as a rule. But given she had a gun, and
took me by surprise, I figured the bitch had it coming.
    As this was happening, Ted Jackson’s
cool, calm demeanor had left the premises, leaving the quivering wreck I now
saw before me. Papers were scattered as he scrambled out of his chair and made
a run for one of the other rooms.
    ‘Teddy, be cool,’ I said, and promptly
shot him in the foot with his bodyguard’s gun. He stumbled and fell and started
bleeding all over the expensive carpet. He was screaming, which was
understandable, but a little annoying. I walked over and kicked him in the side
of the head. He stopped screaming.
    I looked back over at the front door and
the woman was getting to her feet, shaking her head to clear it. I aimed the
gun at her.
    ‘Don’t do it, darlin’ - I’m better than
you are.’

 
    TWELVE
     
    She looked like
she wanted to protest, but I could see her assessing the situation and realizing
that right there and then, I was right. She dropped to one knee and put her
hand to her head where I’d hit her.
    ‘You’re in way over your head,’ she
said.
    ‘I don’t know about that,’ I replied. ‘But
there are a few questions I need answers to. And you’re going to give them to
me.’
    I’d stuck the cable ties from my
briefcase in my pocket before coming up here dressed as a bellboy, so I used
these to secure the woman and Ted to two of the chairs in the suite. I was sat
on the couch in front of them, leaning back with my feet on the table in front
of me, waiting for them to come round. I’d even been nice enough to wrap a
towel around Ted’s bleeding foot. After all, I didn’t want him passing out or
moaning too much before I had a chance to speak to him.
    I slapped Ted’s face to bring him round.
Up close, he didn’t look as high and mighty as he did when he was walking
around chatting into his phone and swinging a briefcase around. He groaned as
consciousness washed over him once again.
    ‘Hey, Ted,’ I said.
    ‘What’s happening?’ He groaned, still a
little confused from being shot and kicked in the head.
    ‘Right now, you’re tied to a chair in
your suite at The Four Seasons. You have a hole in your foot, which I put there
to stop you running off.’
    He frowned, as if in deep concentration.
He turned his head and saw his female bodyguard sat next to him, in much the
same position. Except she hadn’t been shot.
    ‘Don’t worry, your lady friend is here next
to you. We’ll get to her in due course, but first I really must get the
formalities out of the way.’
    ‘Wh-what formalities?’ he asked. ‘I don’t
understand.’
    Fear was starting to creep into his
voice, replacing the confusion.
    ‘Sure you do, Teddy. You were meant to
be selling some land to a mob boss named Roberto Pellaggio. But you pulled out
of the deal with no notice or explanation, and kept his money. He hired me to
ask you really nicely to reconsider your position on this matter and to let him
have the deeds to the land, as per your original agreement.’
    I leant forward, gesturing with the gun.
    ‘Which reminds me. Say, Ted, don’t
suppose you fancy selling my employer the land you just screwed him out of, do
you?’
    ‘What? Is that what this is about? Jesus
Christ!’ He shook his head in a gesture to clear it, then looked at me.
    ‘Tell that Marlon Brando wannabe that he
can go screw himself. I can’t believe the ballsy prick would go this far. Didn’t
think he had it in him.’
    ‘Ted Jackson!’ I exclaimed. ‘Way to grow
a pair! But seriously, he’s a