By the time this man was on the ground, the man with the knife came lunging at her. Ironically, it was in dodging this man’s awkward lashing motion that Ava realized her wound from earlier was bleeding again from all of the movement and action. Sidestepping the man’s attack, she grabbed his arm and wrenched it hard, twisting it to the left. She’d intended only to twist hard enough to get him to drop the knife, but she was on fire, could feel adrenaline and anger coursing through her, and she lost track of her own strength.
She heard the man’s wrist snap, followed by a sick pop as his shoulder came out of socket. With her right hand still aching, she relied on her left hand. Knowing she wasn’t as powerful on that side, she had to make the strike mean more. Rather than going for the head, she landed a blow in his ribs and then another in the throat. The man hunched over in pain, almost spastic in that he couldn’t decide what hurt more.
“That’s enough, Detective Gold.”
She turned to see Jim Spurlock on his feet. On the table, the cards were still stacked neatly, as there had not yet been a single game played. The other two men were flanking him, standing slightly in front of Spurlock. One of them looked spooked, unable to believe what he’d just seen. The other, built like a boxer from what Ava could tell, looked a bit more confident.
“You know who I am?” she asked.
“Of course I do. You’re the infamous woman detective. The woman who had a stand-up fellow as a husband. Killed while trying to stop a bank robbery.”
He was moving forward as he spoke, closing the distance between them to ten feet, then eight.
“Killed by you,” Ava said.
“And?”
Ava pulled her gun and for the first time, Spurlock looked worried. “Put your hands in the air, Mr. Spurlock. And you other two, sit down at the table.”
Spurlock and his two goons were less than five feet away from her now. “Please tell me you didn’t take this job just to come after his killer,” Spurlock said. He was not raising his hands. In fact, the three of them were stepping even closer.
“Stop where you are right now,” Ava said.
“Fine, fine,” Spurlock said.
When he stopped, the other two did as well. Then, immediately after all three had stopped moving, Spurlock moved. He moved quickly, in an attack Ava would have never predicted. He shoved the smaller of the two goons directly at her.
When they collided, Spurlock went running for the hallway and the loading dock door beyond. She turned to go after him, but in doing so caught a right-handed blow from the man with the boxer’s build. It rocked her a bit, but she kept her feet. Meanwhile, the man who had been shoved into her also took off running behind Spurlock.
The man in front of her threw another punch but she was able to block this one just before it slammed into her nose. With that punch blocked, she jammed her gun back into its holster and used her aching right hand to deliver a hard jab into his solar plexus. He stumbled back but then came charging at her, his shoulder lowered in preparation to tackle her.
Ava waited for the right moment and brought her right knee up as hard as she could. She’d meant to catch him in the face, but she’d been a half second late and, instead, caught him under his chin. The sound of his jaw cracking and his teeth clinking together was like some strange, out of tune sound from a piano. He swayed on his feet for a moment and somehow remained standing. As he swayed, Ava put every ounce of her remaining strength into her right arm and took him down with a devastating roundhouse blow.
Panting and still slightly jarred from the punch she’d taken on, Ava started for the hallway. Spurlock and his goon were already gone. Ava pulled her gun from its holster and hurried along to the doorway, kicking it open and pivoting outside. But the only thing she saw was the man who had previously been standing by the door, the first man she’d taken out on her way to Spurlock.
Now angrier than ever she hurried down the alley, rushing for the street where the two cars were parked just along the side of the block. As she neared the end of the alleyway, she saw one of those cars, well-polished and sleek black, speeding to the east. As it passed no more than fifteen yards ahead of her, she could see Spurlock in the front seat. He was adjusting his hat and Ava had to force herself to holster her gun to prevent herself from taking a shot. While she did have a deep, dark desire to kill him, she knew it would be giving him the easy way out. No, she wanted him properly arrested, properly taken in so that he could suffer the rest of his life in prison for killing her husband—for killing a cop. And maybe, as an added bonus, to know it was a female detective who had done it to him.
She made the rest of the sprint to the end of the alley and looked to the right. The car was merging into traffic and already taking a turn to the right. She started to run in that direction but even in her anger and frustration, she knew it would be useless.
She’d had him. She’d been so close, had him right there in front of her. She was trembling with the disappointment and still-surging adrenaline.
As she walked back to the front of the building to try to calm down, one thing resonated in her head and brought a sense of calm to her. It was an odd thing to find peace in, but she was now able to rest comfortably in knowing that Jim Spurlock was aware of her. He’d known about her even before she’d dropped in on his little club this evening.
He knew who she was and why she was after him. She could only hope he’d live in fear in the last few days of freedom he had, wondering if Ava Gold was on his tail.
Ava quickly walked back into the makeshift club and took a look around. Two of the men she’d bested were started to get to their feet but she had no real interest in them. She scanned the tables and the floor, looking for anything of interest. And there, on the floor beside an overturned stack of poker chips, she saw a small book of matches.
She leaned down and picked it up, not sure if it would come to anything. But she couldn’t go away empty-handed. She knew that for sure. She studied the book of matches, which was adorned with simple type that read: THE ASH LODGE. She pocketed the matches and hurried out before she’d have the need to confront the two men who were slowly coming to their senses.
Ava stepped back out onto the street, her nerves finally settling down. She rubbed her fingers against the matchbook in her pocket while flagging down a cab. The reality of how close she’d been to her husband’s killer still weighed heavily on her as she readjusted Lottie’s bandages on her arm. With her home, Frank, her father, and her son less than fifteen minutes away, it felt peculiar to be thinking about vengeance. But after this evening, there was one solid and undeniable truth that took roost in her heart and mind.
Jim Spurlock’s days were numbered.
Having seen him face to face and nearly capturing him, she was more determined than ever. One way or the other, Scurlock was going to prison. And if he continued to disrespect her deceased husband as he’d done tonight, it might not be prison he’d have to worry about, but the grave.