Hunt Through Napoleon's Web (25 page)

“Get her off me!” the waiter roared to his associates.

The other two men latched on to her again, but by this time Gabriel was there, clubbing his hands together and smashing them into the back of one man’s neck. The man went down hard, as if every muscle in his body had gone limp.

Mariella twisted and clawed at the other man’s face, leaving red streaks on his cheeks. He threw his hands up as she feinted at his eyes, then she lifted a knee into his groin. He doubled over in agony.

That left only the waiter who was trying to retrieve the bottle, and unfortunately it left him free. He grabbed for it once more.

Mariella cried, “Stop him!” as Gabriel ran past her.

The waiter scooped up the bottle and turned with a
satisfied smirk on his face. The expression didn’t last long because in the next second Gabriel’s fist crashed into his face.

As the man teetered, Gabriel got his first good look at him. He was big, well over six feet tall, with massive shoulders that strained the seams of the uniform jacket. He hadn’t gotten those shoulders carrying trays of champagne, nor was waitering likely to be how he’d acquired his broken nose or the network of scars along both cheeks and around his eyes.

The punch had momentum and all of Gabriel’s weight and strength behind it. Despite being bigger and heavier than Gabriel, the man reeled from the impact. His hands went up in the air . . .

And the whiskey bottle flew out of his grip, turning over and over as it soared high and then came crashing down to shatter on the marble floor in an explosion of glass and liquid.

Mariella Montez had just seen several men beaten and several more shot, and she’d watched it all without showing any abnormal distress, any grief. But now, as she saw the glass shatter and its contents lost, she screamed, a low, plaintive wail, as if her heart had been ripped out.

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