Chapter 4
Samuels came down the hall in Laurel's wake. He looked at her, and then at Hammond, and then at Clive.
"Will you get to hell off my rug," he said.
He picked Laurel up, shoved past Hammond, and put her down on the couch. Clive went in after him. He was reasonably steady. Samuels closed the door and glared.
"Did you kill anybody?"
Clive grinned. "He didn't wait long enough." He dropped the little gun back in the table drawer. "Some guy just took a shot at me through the window."
Samuels closed it and pulled the shade. "Get in the bathroom, will you, and bleed in the washbowl."
Clive went in. Hammond was there, wringing out a cold towel for Laurel.
"Worrying about his carpets, the son of a b***h," Clive muttered. "What about my clothes?" He held his hand over the bowl. Hammo
