by Jake Logan
Backing toward the door, Harper fired his .32. His shots thumped into the bed, but Slocum’s had already dug a messy hole through his chest. As Harper stumbled into the hall, the crazy fire in him burned brightly enough for him to raise his gun again. Even worse than that: Slocum’s Colt was empty.
“You’re done, John,” Harper said as he used his last bit of strength to take aim.
In a whisper of something cutting through the air followed by the wet thump of a blade sinking home, Harper’s last bit of strength was taken from him. He no longer had enough steam to lift his arm or remain on his feet. Blood sprayed from the side of his neck and he crumpled.
Sykes walked up to Harper’s body and pried the pocketknife from where it had been lodged. “See why I had to have this back at that store?” he said as he wiped it clean upon Harper’s shirt. “You hardly ever find one that’s balanced good enough for throwin’.”
Rose peeked up from behind the bed, saw the carnage in her room as well as the body in the hallway, and screamed.
Corrington either didn’t have the strength or the will to get to his feet, so he merely crawled over to Slocum and gazed up at him. “I never knew Mike would truly go after you like that. He came to me with some interesting ideas, ways to make a character that would hunt your characters down in future books. It would tie all of my works together! It wasn’t supposed to actually happen.”
“But even when you found out it did happen, you were going to write about it anyway,” Slocum said.
“What else was I to do?” Looking over to Sykes, Corrington pleaded, “I told you Mike was crazy. I told you he wouldn’t leave me alone.”
When Sykes looked over to him, Slocum said, “I found this one and Harper having a friendly chat together. Seems they were plotting the next book.”
“Is that so?”
“What happened to you?”
“Them two from Chicago came storming up the stairs when the ruckus started. The big fella got ahead of me, but I wasn’t about to let the other one tip the scales even more.” Looking back to Corrington, Sykes said, “Had a little chat with him. Turned out about the same as the chat with Harper over there.”
Corrington shuddered as he thought about what condition Cam could possibly be in. “I’ll make this up to you men, I swear.”
“Damn right you will,” Sykes said as he lunged at the writer with the same knife he’d just pulled from another man’s neck. “Whatever money you make offa them books that use me and John’s name, we get a cut of it. Comprendes?”
“Sure. I can arrange a payment tomorrow.”
“And you’ll set the records straight about us,” Sykes added.
“Naturally.”
“And whenever you get a dime from any of them books later on, or money from any other books you write that’s got anything to do with anyone that so much as has a passing resemblance to me or John, we get a cut. If some bastard you write about carries a gun, that’s close enough. We don’t get our cut, and we come for you. Or,” Sykes added as he held the blade out so Corrington could see the way it caught the light, “maybe just I’ll come see you.”
Corrington clawed at the bed to help drag himself to his feet. “That’s preposterous! This wasn’t all my fault! You can’t seriously expect me to abide by that agreement! Mr. Slocum is a man of honor and reason. Surely he can agree to something more feasible.”
All this time, Slocum had been reloading his Colt. Downstairs, folks were in an uproar about the fight that had taken place. The law was surely on their way, but none of that registered on Slocum’s face. He was cold as could be when he rolled the Colt’s cylinder against his palm and said, “I don’t know, Mr. Corrington. My partner’s proposal seems plenty agreeable.”
21
NEW ORLEANS
TWO MONTHS LATER
Slocum didn’t need much of an excuse to spend some time in New Orleans. Considering how cold it was getting up north, the southern climate was much more tolerable anyhow. This time, however, he had better reason than usual to sit in a little café that smelled of gumbo and watch a pretty woman approach him.
“Here you go,” Jessica said as she sat down at his table and placed a fat envelope in front of him.
He opened the envelope just enough to see the cash inside, then stuck it in his jacket pocket and asked, “Did Sykes get his share?”
“And then some, just like you. Aren’t you going to count it?”
“No. That writer was too scared to cheat us.”
Unable to contain herself, Jessica said, “It’s a lot. Those books are doing really well.”
“Good.”
“And so is the new one.”
Slocum didn’t have anything to say to that.
Jessica said, “I have a copy of the new book. See for yourself.”
She handed Slocum another novel with another fanciful drawing on the cover. This time, there was a lone man holding a gun in each hand standing on top of a riverboat that was sailing through what looked like a sea of dead bodies.
“Jesus,” Slocum grumbled. “People really pay for this?”
“That’s you on there,” she announced.
Holding the cover closer, he was able to see no familiar features on the man standing beneath the title, King of the River. “Sure don’t look like me.”
“Well it is. You’re mentioned by name.”
Pulling the book open almost hard enough to shred it, Slocum found his name on the third page—and damn near every one after that. “Son of a bitch!”
“You’re the hero, John,” Jessica said, while patting his knee. “Acquitted of all crimes and back to bestow righteous vengeance upon those who wronged you. He talks you up better in here than when the law came to ask him who started shooting in Perryville.”
“What about Sykes?”
“He’s in there too. Just not as big of a hero.”
“Figures. You’ve read this, haven’t you?”
Nodding, she replied, “Oh yes.”
Slocum felt the color rushing into his face.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she told him. “I liked it.” As her hand slipped up along his thigh to rub his groin under cover of the tablecloth, she whispered, “Let’s go somewhere else so I can show you just how much I liked it.”
More than willing to forget about the gumbo he’d ordered, Slocum tossed his napkin onto the table and escorted Jessica out of the café. “It’s good to be king.”
Watch for
SLOCUM AND THE DIRTY DOZEN
380th novel in the exciting SLOCUM series
from Jove
Coming in October!
