Chapter Six
Callan acted with haste. He swished, ready to strike yet not pulling out his police-issued handgun. For all he knew, it would be a harmless—
‘Ouch!’
Something slapped him on the shoulder.
Ducking behind another tree, he gave his shoulder a fleeting glance and froze. What in the world?
A yellow splatter stung his black coat.
Was some eejit playing games?
Knowing this opponent wasn’t carrying a real weapon, Callan uncurled and exposed himself.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Three painful shots smacked against his gut.
‘Bloody bastard!’
Callan fell to the ground, his stomach various shades of red, green, and blue. He didn’t want to imagine the colour of his skin tomorrow.
Black and blue.
The shots eased, and Callan saw the bampot perched on a tree. A white shoe with untied laces d
