Along everyone’s shinbone ran a long nerve. Hitting that nerve had always caused Wolf’s opponent to seize up in pain.
When he kicked Ski Mask, the man let loose with a shrill yelp and his fingers relaxed enough for Wolf to wrestle the blade from his grip. Neatly spinning the knife around, Wolf stabbed his attacker in the gut.
The man’s scream was bloodcurdling, but Wolf barely heard it. And hecertainlyfelt no remorse. Long ago, he’d learned in the game of kill or be killed, there was no room for hesitation or compassion.
Wrenching the blade free, he shoved his assailant aside and ran into Chrissy’s room to grab the Glock he’d left atop the dresser.
Used to be I’d take my sidearm with me wherever I went, even into the shower, he thought.Civilian life has made me soft.
Ski Mask lay on his side in the hallway, his hands pressed against the blood seeping from his wound. Wolf barely spared the man a glance as he jumped over him and raced toward the living room.
Bursting through the front door, he leapt onto the porch’s top step in time to see a man shove Chrissy into the back of a sedan. She was stark naked and, even though Wolf had only gotten a brief glimpse, he’d seen her hands were secured behind her back with a bright orange zip-tie. Her feet were free, however, and she used them to her advantage, landing a hard kick against her assailant’s thigh and making the man grunt.
Attagirl, Wolf thought with no small measure of pride. Christina Szarek was no wilting lily. She was fully capable of giving as good as she got.
Despite her efforts, however, the man was able to slam the door behind her, and that was the last Wolf could see of her. The windows on the car were tinted near black, making the interior indiscernible.
“Stop right there!” he yelled, lifting his Glock and sighting down the barrel. “You make one move toward that heater you got shoved in your waistband and I swear on all that’s holy, I’ll make sure the next thing you are is an organ donor!”
The man looked toward the porch and slowly raised his hands.
Like his partner in crime, he was dressed in black, his face obscured by a ski mask. But unlike the scarecrow Wolf had fought in the hall, this dude looked like a busted can of biscuits. He was hugely muscled. But those muscles were covered by a thick layer of fat.
“Maybe I should’ve been more clear!” Wolf yelled when Biscuits took a step toward the driver’s side door. “You so much as move another inch and I’ll end you!”
“You think you can hit me on your first try?” Biscuits bellowed, taking another step backward.
Wolf realized two things then. One, the bastard wasn’t going to stop. And two, Wolf was bored of their conversation.
“Let’s find out!” he called at the same time he curled his finger around the trigger.
He was mid-squeeze when he felt a yank on his leg.Boom!The tip of the Glock glowed bright orange as the bullet left the barrel, but he knew his shot ranged wide.
Glancing down, he saw Officer Parsons lying at his feet. The policeman had one hand wrapped around the hem of Wolf’s jeans, the other was pressed to his throat. Bright red blood oozed between his fingers, and his eyes were wide with fear—apparently Ski Mask had more luck employing his blade against the police officer than he’d had trying to use it on Wolf.
Wolf registered all of this in a fraction of a second. But a fraction of a second was all it took for Biscuits to grab his gun. Even though Wolf had been out of black ops for a while, he would always recognize the sound of a round being chambered.
“Shit!” He leveled his weapon once more, but his distraction meant Biscuits had gotten the drop on him.
He heard thecrackof the discharge right before he felt the bullet slam into his shoulder. It was a glancing shot, but it was more than enough to spin him around.
By the time he caught his balance and took aim, Biscuits was already in the driver’s seat and leaving rubber on the pavement as he fishtailed down the road.
“Shit!” Wolf yelled again, squinting against the darkness to try to catch the plate. He only got the first three characters before the sedan screeched around the corner and he lost sight of it.
His instinct was to search Officer Parson’s pockets for the guy’s truck keys and give chase. But SEALs never left a man behind. And Parsons was a brother in arms, even if their uniforms were different.
Grabbing one of the beach towels Chrissy had left drying over the porch railing, he wadded it up and pressed it over Parsons’s neck.
“Use this to keep pressure on the wound,” he instructed. Then he snatched the radio clipped to the officer’s bulletproof vest and gave his own shoulder a cursory glance.
He was bleeding pretty good, but the damage appeared even more shallow than he’d originally suspected.
Good. I’m goin’ to need both arms to strangle that fat fuck once I find him, he thought.
Depressing the button on the policeman’s radio, he spoke quickly. “Officer down! Officer down! Send paramedics to…” He rattled off Chrissy’s address and explained to the dispatcher what had transpired, ending by giving her a brief descriptions of the two perpetrators. “I may have killed the skinny one. I stabbed him in the gut. But I hope like hell I missed anything vital, ’cause I need him to answer some questions.”
The dispatcher tried to ask him something, but he didn’t have time for an interrogation. He dropped the radio and nearly ripped the front door off its hinges in his mad rush to get back inside.
