“Goodamn fucking punks, what do they think they’re doing slashing somebody’s tires like we don’t have to pay for them!”
John L. Woods turned the corner, and Samael had him.
The throat was a soft place on a human body, but Samael could still feel the impact of stabbing John L. Woods in the neck all the way up to his shoulder. He always got irritated when he read about someone sliding a knife into another person’s body. Didn’t those authors know that there was muscle and bone and cartilage in there? What did they think a body was made of?
But the usual rush of adrenaline as he felt a life fade at his hands gave him strength. Samael pulled John L. Woods’s body close to his own and dragged him further back into the shadows. He couldn’t scream with his throat obstructed as it was, but if he struggled enough he might break free and alert others in the restaurant. It was amazing how even the weakest person became strong when their lives were at risk.
Samael held determinedly to his prey as his struggles grew weaker and his movements more sluggish. Slowly, he let John L. Woods fall to the ground and pulled his washizaki free with a jerk. It was while he was cleaning it that he heard a female voice say: “Wow. That was pretty quick.”
Tunnel vision is a term usually used to describe men at war. Psychologists found that when men were in the heat of battle, they became so focused on their targets that they lost all ability to sense what was going on around them. It was ridiculously easy to sneak up on such an affected soldier, even from the side.
Though Samael had indeed had tunnel vision before, it had never been a problem, because he’d never had a target who he’d had to kill in a public place. But now, as he whirled around, grabbing his gun from where it rested in his belt, he saw a young woman staring right at John L. Woods’s prone body…very young. If she was legal he’d eat his mask.
Shit. He didn’t want to kill some poor, unrelated kid.