But Not For Lust by BJ Bourg (comprehension books .txt) 📕

“No, you’ll meet him out back in the yard.” He shot a thumb over his shoulder toward the window. “My port captain’s got an office back there. They’ll call Dillon in and start giving him his new assignment. We’ll wait a few minutes and then you and your partner here can walk in and do your thing.”

I nodded, glancing past him and out the window. The sun was shining brightly out there and I could see a few men milling about. “Did you tell anyone he’s wanted for murder?”

“No,” Tex said. “I’m the only one who knows.”

“Good.”

Tex started making small talk while we waited. I remained standing so I could watch the activities in the yard. I was only half paying attention to what he was saying. I left Susan to do most of the talking, but she didn’t sound interested in what Tex had to say either.

After a few minutes of idly listening to Tex talk fondly about his kids back home in San Antonio, a beat-up truck pulled into the yard and parked in front of the office building. A thick man stepped out. He wore a thick, gray sleeveless button-down shirt, loose-fitting jeans that were stained with grease and oil, and a blue hardhat that bore a dozen different stickers. It looked like a high school student’s lunchbox. The man tilted the dark sunglasses up on his forehead and trudged around the truck like a large bear heading for its den.

“That’s Dillon,” Tex said with excited anticipation.

I pointed and asked, “Is there a back door to that office?”

He shook his head. “No, there’s only the one way in and out. Once you walk through that door, you’ll have him cornered.”

I didn’t know how much I liked the sound of that, but with Susan beside me, I was certain the both of us could take down that big tree—well, pretty sure, anyway.

“Okay, do you want to take us to the office?” I asked, waiting for Tex to stand.

“And risk being murdered?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, thank you. Just head back to the lobby, take a right instead of a left, follow the long hallway to the door with the window, and you’ll be in the yard. Good luck and please don’t tell Dillon we set him up. Just make it look like you happened to show up at the right time.”

I nodded and spun on my heels, rushing out the door and heading straight for the back of the building. Susan was less than a step behind me, and I could tell she wanted to be right beside me to make sure I didn’t cross any lines. I knew I wouldn’t, but I sure wanted to see this guy get what was coming to him. Ty didn’t deserve what Dillon had done to him, and his mom sure didn’t deserve what Nikia had done to her. Both of these bastards deserved to spend the rest of their natural lives rotting away in an eight-by-ten concrete cell while waiting their turn to be executed.

When we reached the office door, I didn’t bother knocking. I simply twisted the knob and pushed through to the inside. I had shoved my sunglasses on my face so I wouldn’t lose my inside vision, and I quickly whipped them off when I entered.

Dillon, whose broad back was facing us, didn’t even turn around when the door opened. I caught sight of one of the stickers on the back of his helmet and grunted. It read: I love animals…over rice.

“Dillon Watts,” I said in a firm voice, “you’re under arrest for the torture and murder of Ty Richardson. Get on your knees and place your hands behind your head.”

I don’t know what I was expecting from the big man, but I certainly didn’t expect him to be so fast. Without making a sound or even taking a breath, his hand flashed to his belt and he whirled around, sweeping the blade of a large hunting knife directly toward my face.

  CHAPTER 54

As a rule, law enforcement officers should never bring batons, TASERs, or other less-lethal weapons to a knife fight. A knife is a deadly weapon and the only effective tool for dealing with a knife-wielding assailant is a firearm, and an officer’s best chance for survival is distance. In my case, neither distance nor a firearm was an option.

Dillon Watts had spun around with such blinding speed that I hadn’t had time to draw my gun and fire. Even if I did, the bullet would not have instantly incapacitated him and I would’ve been cut in the process. Thus, I did the only thing I could do in that situation—I stepped even closer and attacked the arm that held the knife.

I brought both forearms up and chopped hard against his right shoulder and biceps. He started to draw his knife hand back for another swipe at me, but I slid my left arm over his right arm and jerked it downward. I then grabbed my left wrist with my right hand and hooked his arm in place. I was about to pivot and break his arm when he punched me upside the head with his left fist. Each knuckle felt like the head on a ball peen hammer. I instantly tasted blood and my knees buckled.

Somehow, I managed to hold onto his right arm. Before he could bring his left fist to bear on my face again, Susan jumped into the fray. The instantaneous struggle had shifted our position, so she had been forced to kick a chair out of her way to gain access to the fight. Her next kick hit Dillon right across the left thigh. Susan had powerful kicks. She could break a leg if she tried—and it looked like that was exactly what she was attempting to do. Only, her shin