Blood Game Read Free Page A

tattoos and the gray chest hair and the slick-shaven head and the biceps like coconuts started his attack by hitting Guild in the ribs.
    Not that Sovich gave him a chance to do anything about it.
    Before Guild’s fists came up reflexively, Sovich hit him twice in the face and once more in the stomach.
    Guild knew that he was bleeding, knew that he had peed his pants, and knew that he was making some kind of vague mewling sound.
    Then Sovich slammed a right cross straight into Guild’s crotch.
    If Guild was not precisely unconscious at that point, he certainly was when his head slammed against the ground.

Chapter Four
    â€œYou keep this one there,” the Mexican woman said twenty minutes later, bending into Guild’s face with her soft breasts and her breath smelling of spicy Mexican food.
    Guild lay on a red daybed in a white room. The hot sunlight shone directly on him through the room’s single window. The room stank of food and tobacco smoke and heat. His head hurt and his jaw hurt, but neither hurt half so much as his groin. In the hallway outside, he could hear kids running up and down the wooden steps, screaming and laughing. One of them kept saying the dirtiest word Guild ever heard anybody say. The kid couldn’t have been more than five.
    â€œHe lost his temper, Victor.”
    Guild tapped his sports coat. “He also took his money.” “You know what he did with the money?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe burned it.”
    â€œWhat?”
    He saw tears in her eyes. She shook her head in anger and a curious kind of fascination. “Look.”
    She showed him the white envelope John T. Stoddard had given him. She opened it up like an oyster. He peeked inside. Black curled ashes filled the white envelope.
    â€œHe is crazy sometimes.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œHe was cheated.”
    â€œVictor?”
    She nodded. “I do not blame him for being mad.”
    â€œWho cheated him?”
    â€œStoddard.”
    â€œHow much did he cheat him out of?”
    â€œMany, many thousands. They have a—what is the word? Paper you sign?”
    â€œContract?”
    â€œYes. Contract. They have contract giving Victor half of everything. He gets nothing except five hundred dollars every three or four months. It is not fair.”
    â€œWhere is Victor now?”
    â€œHe’s in the kitchen.”
    Guild raised his head. He could never recall being hit so hard or so often without being able to swing back.
    â€œWhat’s he doing in the kitchen?”
    â€œHe’s waiting for you.”
    â€œHe wants to hit me again?”
    â€œNo. He only wants to talk.”
    â€œTo me?”
    â€œYes.”
    Guild patted his right hip. His .44 was there. He drew it out and looked it over. “I’m taking this into the kitchen with me.”
    â€œHe will understand. He knows how he can get.”
    â€œYou tell him if he tries to hit me again, I’ll kill him right on the spot.”
    She surprised him by smiling. “He scares you?” There was a certain pride in her voice.
    â€œAbsolutely. Now you go tell him.”
    She went away with her sweet, swaying breasts and long, good legs and bare, slapping feet. Guild sat up. He moaned several times and cursed. He checked his Ingram. He had been out for over half an hour. He focused his eyes. There was no evidence of concussion that he could tell. His groin was so painful, he was afraid to move.
    The Mexican woman came back. “He asked if you would like a glass of beer.”
    â€œThat would be nice, yes.”
    â€œHe asked if you would like a cigarette.”
    â€œThat would be nice, too.” He paused. “Did you tell him what I said about killing him if he tries to hit me?”
    â€œHe is calm now. The only time you have to worry about Victor is when he is not calm.”
    Guild tried to stand up.
    The undignified mewling sound came from his chest again.
    The Mexican