“Demeter,” the big man said. “I need to speak to you privately.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Torelli,” Demeter replied smoothly. “And I’m in the middle of a business meeting.”

“Get one of your whores to get him off,” Torelli said. “You and I have to talk.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Regarding?”

“I need a list of your bank accounts, security passwords, and a copy of your records for the last six months.” He scowled, looming over her. Torelli was the kind of guy who was used to getting his way if he loomed and scowled enough. I knew the type. I tried to glance past the goons to see whether Thomas was in the hallway, but could detect no sign of him.

“One wonders if you have been partaking of your product,” Demeter said. “Why on earth should I provide you with my records, accounts, and funds?”

“Things are going to change around here, whore. Starting with your attitude.” Torelli glanced at two of the four men behind him and angled his head toward Demeter. The two goons, both of them medium-caliber Chicago bruisers, stepped around Torelli and walked toward her.

I grimaced. I didn’t care for Demeter much, personally, but I needed her, and I wouldn’t be able to talk her into helping me if she were laid up in intensive care. Besides, she was a girl, and you don’t hit girls. You don’t let two-bit hired bullies do it, either.

I stood up and turned to face Torelli’s men, staff in hand. I gave them my hardest look, which didn’t even slow them down. The one on the right threw something at my face, and I had no time to work out what it might be. I ducked, recognized it as a snow-speckled winter glove, and realized that it had been a distraction.

The guy on the left came in on me when I was ducking and kicked a steel-toed work boot at my left knee. I turned my leg and took it on the shin. It hurt like hell, but at least I could still move. I rolled to one side, placing the goon on my left between myself and the goon on the right. He threw a looping right hand at me, and I met his knuckles with my staff. Knuckles crunched. The goon howled.

The other one bulled past his pain-stunned partner and came at me, obviously planning on tackling me to the floor so that all of his buddies could circle up and kick me for a while.

Couldn’t have that. So I raised my right hand, clenched in a fist, baring four triple-wire bands, one on each finger. With a thought and a word I released the kinetic energy stored in one of the rings. It hit the goon like a locomotive, slamming him back and to the floor with a very satisfying thud.

I turned and kicked the stunned first goon in both shins, hah, then placed one of my heels against his hip and shoved him to the floor. He crumpled.