AMIRA by Matthew Betley (feel good books to read .TXT) 📕

that had scattered away from the gunshots.  Task Force Ares technically wasn’t part of any agency, but he did have FBI credentials and the blessing of the FBI Director and the president, which was good enough for government work.

John reached the door to Grace’s Mandarin and entered in a crouch, moving left inside the foyer into the restaurant.  The establishment was a two-story venue whose main dining area was on the second floor with a sweeping view of the Potomac River that curved in alignment with the street.  Decorated with traditional Chinese red and gold architecture and statues – complete with upscale cuisine – it was a National Harbor hotspot.

He passed the hostess station as he heard shouts from the second floor, whose balcony overlooked the Koi pond at the bottom of the indoor recirculating waterfall that fell from the second floor along a black granite wall.  John dashed to the steps next to the waterfall and crept up them one at a time, his weapon ready and pointed up in case Samuel peeked over the railing of the balcony.

The stairs double backed, and seconds later, his head reached the level of the second floor.  A large crash as dishes broke and a cart fell over ahead of him turned his attention to the right along the glass wall and the adjoining tables.  Through the legs of tables and chairs, he saw Samuel sprawled on the ground on his stomach, scampering forward as he tried to get up.  His hands were empty, which was a relief to John.  Don’t need a gunfight in here. 

He holstered the Colt 1911 and moved quickly, recognizing the momentary advantage.  John dashed up the last few steps, weaved in between two tables of patrons, and launched himself at Samuel just as the man stood and partially turned.  His intent was to incapacitate Samuel without gunfire, as the restaurant was already half full from day shoppers and tourists.

The sidekick he delivered landed squarely on Samuel’s ribs, and the skinny man flew sideways into another table, sprawling face-forward onto the assembled meal of the family who sat there, stunned in shock at the sudden confrontation.  John moved to incapacitate him when Samuel spun, an empty skewer in his right hand.

John couldn’t help himself and stepped back, beckoning with his hands.  He was furious that Samuel had just murdered a police officer.  I won’t kill him.  Just make him hurt.  A lot. “Well, come on then.  Let’s see what you got, asshole.”

Samuel moved as if he’d been electrified, and he jumped forward, the skewer in his right hand and a steak knife appearing in his left.  He grinned wickedly, his angular face heightening the expression.

As Samuel closed the distance and lunged in with the knife, John grabbed a heavy rectangular silver serving tray from an empty table and batted the blade away to his left.  Acutely aware of the skewer’s location, he adjusted his hands and slammed the edge of the tray down on Samuel’s left forearm just above the wrist.

The edge struck several nerves, and although not hard enough to break his arm, his hand reflexively opened, and he dropped the steak knife.

Instead of reacting in pain, Samuel twisted his hips and drove the skewer towards John’s stomach.

John twisted back to the left, deflecting the attack with the tray.  He placed his right foot behind Samuel’s and swept it forward to knock the man off-balance, but Samuel was quick, and he lifted his foot up.  With nothing to impede his foot, John struck thin air and lurched forward into Samuel as he lost his balance.

Inadvertently having closed the distance, he pressed his shoulder into Samuel’s side and drove the man into another table, the tray still a barrier to the skewer.

Fuck this, John thought, and brought his right elbow up and into the side of Samuel’s head.  The man staggered, and John slammed the edge of the tray into his chest, releasing it after the impact.  He reached forward with both hands and grabbed Samuel’s right wrist, intent on smashing his arm against a table.

Samuel recognized his intent, and he did the only thing he could think to prevent it – he drove his legs forward, pushing the two men towards the railing fifteen feet away.

“Mother…fucker,” John said with anger. He was in a pure battle rage and desperately wanted to defeat the evil man in his grasp.  “You want to go for a ride?  Fine.  Let’s go.”

John started running with Samuel, accelerating their approach towards the red decorated railing.

Samuel glanced at his pursuer’s face and saw only resolve and fury, and he realized he’d started something he couldn’t stop.  This man is going to kill me. 

The rage at the officer’s murder on the street fueled John, and he drove his legs harder, the two men gaining speed.  Less than two feet from the railing, John released Samuel’s wrist with his right hand and grabbed him at the right armpit.  He twisted to the left and braced his legs for the impact.  Their momentum carried him forward, but John pulled upward with all his strength as the two collided with the railing.  His lower body slammed into the thick, metal panel, and he prayed it held as he yanked and pushed Samuel over the top.

Samuel disappeared, and John dropped down further, trying to lower his center of gravity.  He felt the panel railing sway but hold.

He heard a splash below, and thought, Hope that hurt like hell, wondering which part of the Koi pond he’d hit.

There was a second splash, and John felt a moment of panic.  No way.  He stood up and glanced over the railing just in time to see Samuel dash out the door, the skewer sticking out of his upper left shoulder.

Good God, John thought as he moved towards the steps to continue the pursuit.  This guy won’t