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Back Crime Song Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. Fifty-Five
  60. Fifty-Six
  61. Fifty-Seven
  62. Fifty-Eight
  63. Fifty-Nine
  64. Sixty
  65. Sixty-One
  66. Sixty-Two
  67. Sixty-Three
  68. Sixty-Four
  69. Sixty-Five
  70. Sixty-Six
  71. Sixty-Seven
  72. Sixty-Eight
  73. Sixty-Nine
  74. Seventy
  75. Seventy-One
  76. Seventy-Two
  77. Seventy-Three
  78. Seventy-Four
  79. Seventy-Five
  80. Seventy-Six
  81. Seventy-Seven
  82. Seventy-Eight
  83. Seventy-Nine
  84. Eighty
  85. Eighty-One
  86. Eighty-Two
  87. Eighty-Three
  88. Eighty-Four
  89. Eighty-Five
  90. Eighty-Six
  91. Eighty-Seven
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. Also by David Swinson
  95. Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.

The blade penetrates through the palm of my hand, and I see it cut through the top, near my knuckles.

Weird.

I grip the knife’s handle between the fingers of my punctured hand. At this point the pain means nothing compared to wanting to live. I clench the handle hard.

He’s forcing my knife-stuck hand down, trying to get me to stab myself in the chest. My own hand over my heart. So fucking strong. I can’t get my right hand free from under his knee. I grip the handle of the knife through my hand, move a bit to my left side.

Fuck if I’m going to die here!

I throw my upper body up this time, land my forehead into his nose. He loses his grip on the knife, and his knee lifts up from my right hand. Before he can regain himself, I squeeze the knife handle tighter into my palm to prevent the blade from pulling out. Another jolt of adrenaline flushes through me.

Surges.

I swing up hard with the back of my hand, the knife point piercing the left side of his neck just under the jaw. I cut in and slice out. When I remove the blade, blood ratchets out of his neck in a series of pulsating spurts, high enough to arc over the side of the bed, and some of it hits me on the feet.

Carotid.

I scramble up from under his massive legs. He tries to put pressure on his neck with his left hand and at the same time reach for what I have to assume is his sidearm with his other hand.

The movements seem strange, comical. He gives me a look like I should help him.

I step on his hand hard, preventing him from getting his sidearm. He throws silly-looking punches toward me, hitting my thigh once or twice, and allowing the blood to spurt out with more force.

Then it’s like he realizes. He knows.

I step back and kick him hard with the sole of my shoe. The kick lands under his chin, sending him out of his misery.

Part of his neck is opened up, like a second mouth spitting blood. He bleeds out fast. Heart pumping fast, but so is mine. Side of the mattress above his head is soaked, blood dripping down off the bed frame back onto him.

I lean down, lift his suit jacket, and remove the weapon from the holster attached to his belt.

Glock 17.

I back away from him, call 911.

Seventy-Five

Seventy-Five