Back Cut and Run
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Chapter 36
  40. Chapter 37
  41. Chapter 38
  42. Chapter 39
  43. Chapter 40
  44. Chapter 41
  45. Chapter 42
  46. Chapter 43
  47. Chapter 44
  48. Chapter 45
  49. Chapter 46
  50. Chapter 47
  51. Chapter 48
  52. Chapter 49
  53. Acknowledgments
  54. About the Author
  55. Praise
  56. By Matt Hilton
  57. About the Publisher

Immediately he went along the hall. On his right was a kitchen area. Of course this house wasn’t where the drug dealer lived—he’d have a fancy-assed pad somewhere—so the kitchen wasn’t used in its conventional sense. He saw counters with weighing scales and stacks of polyethylene bags and there were traces of white dust on many of the surfaces. No way any of these guys were going to call for police assistance, not with that amount of evidence lying around.

There was also a guard.

He was a big man with a network of scars all over his face. He looked like he’d been in a fire once over and had suffered greatly. That’s what comes of cooking your own crack, Rickard thought, as he fired at the man. The guy threw himself down behind a counter and returned fire with an old-fashioned Colt revolver. His shots were blind, and Rickard dodged away from the line of fire even as he rushed toward the man. He leaned over the counter and drilled the man full of bullets, watching the man’s eyelids flicker as each round punched holes in his upper body. Then there was no more reaction and the man slumped down.

Rickard left him there and went back out into the hall.

That made three dead inside the house, which meant there had to be more than he’d originally reckoned. None of the men he’d killed looked like anyone who could have snared Alisha’s attention.

The next room he checked was a bedroom. The only thing that told him so was the presence of a stained mattress propped up against a wall. The rest of the room was devoid of home comforts and it seemed to have become a repository for old newspapers and girlie magazines.

On his left a closet door stood open. He glanced inside to insure nobody lurked in the dark space and found it empty. Moving on, he found the door that let outside where he’d clambered up onto the porch. The door wasn’t as heavily fortified as the front door, having only a beam nestled in brackets to hold it firm. He paid it little attention, choosing instead to move immediately to the remaining room. Whoever was inside had fallen silent now, but he guessed that was where he’d find Alisha and her ex-boyfriend.