Sleeping Dogs Page 6

  The pipe got tangled in the bag momentarily, giving him enough time to straighten up, push Brady away by the arm, and throw a fist into his ribs. Brady grunted and pulled back against the bag, Dan side stepped and dug another jab into his ribs, then felt Brady driving into him, ramming him backwards against the side of the car. Brady’s body weight pushed Dan’s bag into his chest, trapping his right hand.

  Dan tried to swing at him with his left but it was easily blocked by Brady, who then smashed a short jab into his face, his knuckles impacting on Dan’s cheekbone. Lights popped in his head as it was followed up with a second jab, this one grazing across his forehead as Dan pulled his head back then crashed it forward in a vicious head butt to Brady’s temple.

  The smaller man staggered and the weight lifted off Dan, who pushed himself off the car and looked for space. Brady had recovered his footing and as the pipe came free he swung it round in a wide arc.

  Dan dropped the bag and as Brady turned with the arcing swing, he caught him by the front of his jacket and yanked him forward, driving his knee up in a crippling smash to the crotch.

  Brady’s breath exploded out in a whoosh and he folded immediately, coming forward at the waist and grabbing at himself. Dan stepped back, still holding his jacket front, and hammered a right hook to Brady’s left eye, held him up, and gave him a second one in the same place. Blood sprayed as the skin split and Brady started to sag.

  Dan let him go, expecting him to drop to the ground, but the smaller man was fuelled by meth and didn’t feel pain like a normal person. He pushed up, still grabbing at his crotch with one hand but with the other fist gripping the pipe and looking for a target.

  He lashed out with his foot, catching Dan hard in the middle of his shin and making him stagger back to regain his balance. Brady came at him again, low and fast, blood running down his face. He lashed out with the pipe and Dan couldn’t dodge it in time, taking the full force across his left thigh, not a killer blow but hard enough to deaden the big muscle group.

  Dan ignored the pain and swept the hand aside, awkwardly stepping outside and locking Brady’s right hand with his left, twisting the arm straight and the wrist in on itself, making a solid arm lock and applying pressure to the wrist and pushing down to put the man on the deck.

  Brady struggled and Dan clapped a hand to the back of his elbow, applying more pressure. If Brady resisted any more, his elbow was going to pop completely.

  ‘Get down,’ he panted, lifting the wrist and pushing on the elbow, ‘get down, on the ground, down down down!’

  Brady went down, driven face first into the ground with a thump. Dan went down on top of him, knee in the back, and flicked the arm up between his shoulder blades. He dropped his other knee to the ground, locking the arm in completely.

  Breathing hard, he ignored Brady’s muffled curses and looked around for assistance. He saw the accountant standing next to his Alfa Romeo, a cell phone in his hand and a shocked look on his face.

  ‘Call the cops,’ Dan told him breathlessly, ‘there’s a good man.’

  While the accountant punched numbers into his phone, Dan rolled his hand over and checked his bleeding knuckles.

  ‘Damnit,’ he growled down at Brady’s back, ‘now I’m gunna be late for tea.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Molly gently dabbed at her husband’s swollen cheekbone, lifting the ice pack away to check the bruising which was coming through nice and dark.

  ‘Hmmm,’ she said for the hundredth time, pressing the ice pack back on the injury.

  Dan grimaced and took it from her. ‘Here, let me do it.’

  ‘Is my doctoring not good enough for you?’ she said, pretending to pout as she got up and moved to an armchair.

  ‘No. You’re more of a sadist than a saviour.’ He caught her look. ‘Well, you are. But thanks anyway.’

  Mike came back into the lounge with mugs of tea. ‘Has he stopped crying yet?’ he asked Molly, who smiled and took a cup from him.

  Dan glared at him from the couch where he was stretched out. ‘The doctor said a lesser man would have been hospitalised, if not worse. He was surprised at my ability to handle pain.’

  He sniffed and turned away haughtily.

  Mike snorted. ‘The only thing I’m surprised at mate is your ability to get your arse kicked.’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘Barely a week goes by when you’re not in the sick bay asking for grapes and your last rites.’

  Dan grunted and sat up, touching his cheek tenderly. ‘Oww. Well, if my partner in crime wasn’t busy off chasing skirt, I’d have had someone watching my back, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘True mate, true,’ Mike replied. ‘At least it saved you from an evening with Penny the Persecutor and whatever poor mug she’s sapping the life blood from now.’

  ‘And ruined a perfectly good Thai curry,’ Molly interjected.

  ‘It’ll be even tastier tomorrow,’ Dan dead-panned her, ‘the flavours will have gone through it.’

  His wife shook her head sadly as she gazed at him.

  ‘You know,’ she said, resignation in her voice, ‘I used to wonder, but now I know for sure. You really are an idiot.’

  ###

  Message from the Author

  Thanks for taking the time to read my book. I hope you enjoyed it, and please take the time to leave me a review at your favourite retailer.

  Thanks!

  Angus McLean

  About the Author

  Angus McLean is a South Auckland Police officer. His experience as a cop and a private investigator give his writing a touch of realism. He believes reading should be escapist entertainment and is inspired by the TV shows he watched as a youngster.

  His real identity remains a secret.

  https://www.smashwords.com/interview/AngusMcLean

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  Discover Other Titles by Angus McLean

  Old Friends

  Honey Trap

  Tangled Webs.

  ( Chase Investigations’ fourth case, coming soon)