Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 68

The targeting laser shifted all the way to Dorian. But the shooter was too late to realize his fatal mistake. He’d been thrown off by Dorian’s size.

He had a submachine gun and managed to squeeze off a round before Dorian reached him. Dorian barely noticed as he grabbed the weapon’s barrel, forcing it upward as the shooter squeezed the trigger on full auto. Bullets sprayed all over the place.

Dorian wrenched the gun from the other man’s hands and shot him with his own weapon.

One of Dorian’s men reached through the debris and sprayed up with his sidearm. A shooter’s first bullet caught his shoulder, nailing him back against a wall. He felt the second bullet punch like a fist into his chest. The next three bullets were buttons that entered in a straight line down his chest.

Then another bullet slammed into his chest, a second blow almost on top of the first, nearly knocking the wind from his lungs.

One hit the arm he had thrown up over his face, leaving it feeling bruised and numb.

The third round sailed past his head and up over the Manhattan skyline.

The kid collapsed on the asphalt, struggling to catch his breath. He wondered what the assassin had been firing. Because it felt like several of his ribs were broken.

His chest was on fire.

DORIAN GRAY

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