Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy by Shelley Singer Read Free Book Online Page A

come to take care of you,” I said. She nodded and I turned and looked back at the melée, hoping I’d find a way to make good on that promise.
    That wasn’t going to happen any time soon. At least three of the marauders were armed with guns like mine: new and effective, capable of stunning or killing. One was waving a large blade-studded club wildly in sweeping, bloody arcs as wailing customers tried to run past him out the door, tried to huddle under tables or hide behind machines. Two of the bandits doubled back for the cashier’s cage on the west wall, jumping the counter. Robbery? Was this whole thing about robbery? Two dealers jumped the counter after them, fighting beside the cashier.
    What was I going to do? Wade in, start beating them off? I stood there, undecided, adrenaline firing my weary cells, afraid to show I could fight, even more afraid to show the new, very uncommon weapon I had tucked in my boot. I was supposed to be a waitress, a singer, not a soldier, a cop, a merc. I seemed to be out of the way of the path of destruction, but how much of this could I watch before I had to pull out my pistol and start burning holes through ugly shaved heads? And how would I explain that? Innocent people were getting hurt and I was crouched behind a bar like a victim. I was holding myself so tightly my neck cramped.
    Shouts erupted from the back hallway, access to the stairs and elevator. A tall man with black and yellow striped hair came charging through, leading a gang of half-dressed men and women— all of them, I guessed, employees pulled from their beds to defend the turf— on a collision course with the invaders. He had a gun, I couldn’t tell what kind, and some of the others were carrying knives and guns too. The young busboy, Drew, was with them, racing into battle wielding a cleaver. When they passed, I stepped out into the aisle and grabbed Drew’s shoulder.
    “Who…” I started to ask.
    Drew pulled away, glaring, his eyes wide with excitement and fear.
    “Dunno! Bandits! Mercs!” he yelled back at me. Mercenaries? Could be. There were some who didn’t rely on brainpower to do their jobs. Thugs. The kind who liked to say, “Merc don’t stand for mercy.”
    But if they were more than just bandits, who did they work for? I might have been sent there to spy on the Colemans, but I hated standing by and watching their casino being attacked by guys who looked more like the enemy than they did. I couldn’t stand it any more. I was just reaching into my boot for my laser when Jo, a laser pistol in her hand, raced down from the mezzanine, followed by a wild-eyed teenage girl who seemed to be unarmed except for what looked like one of Judith’s paperweights clutched in her right hand.
    Jo caught up with the tall man’s group just as Drew, howling like a dog, threw himself onto a wildly shooting merc. The boy went down, still howling, the cleaver dropping from his hand, red blood spreading across his shirt.

Chapter Six
    About time you got here
    Jo, trembling with adrenaline and rage, pointed her laser at the broad khaki backside of a retreating enemy but in the next second she forgot all about that target. A gut-piercing shriek spun her around, eyes searching desperately for the source of the cry. Lizzie, young Lizzie, still screaming, had dropped to her knees beside a black-clad body, reaching for a cleaver on the floor. A merc stood only a few feet away, taking aim at Lizzie.
    Racing toward him, Jo stumbled over the leg of a broken stool as she fired, only grazing his thigh, but it was enough of a distraction to turn him toward her. Before either Jo or the merc could shoot again, Liz had flown at the invader and chopped him across the neck, dropping him in a wide spray of blood.
    And the man on the floor— wait a minute. Drew! Dressed in his restaurant black. Jo lunged toward him through a red tunnel of rage. Shouts near the door cleared the haze and pulled her eyes back toward the battle, tearing her