“You have no idea how happy I am you’re still alive,” he snarled when he saw Ski Mask lurching across the living room, headed for the kitchen.
The guy broke into a run, but Wolf caught him at the back door by grabbing the ends of stringy hair hanging out from underneath the mask. Spinning the asshole around, he used his forearm to pin the guy’s neck against the door. In his free hand was the blade he’d taken from the bastard.
Knives were better for close quarters questioning. They were easier to handle, and in the right hands they were far more effective than a gun at getting a guy to talk.
Wolf had the right hands.
“Where’s he takin’ her?” he demanded, his gaze utterly murderous.
“Fuck you!” Ski Mask spat and Wolf slipped the knife into the man’s stomach a good half inch.
Ski Mask howled but didn’t dare move for fear the blade would sink farther.
“I just got shot in the arm,” Wolf bit off, trying not to gag on the hot, cigarette breath that seeped from the bastard’s rotten mouth. “And it’s makin’ me cranky. Now, talk before my dark side gets the better of me and I decide to apply five pounds of pressure and slice into your spleen. You’ll bleed out in thirty seconds.”
“Fuck you!” Ski Mask screamed again and Wolf pressed on the knife, feeling it slice through tissue like a hot pin sinking into butter. “Okay, okay!” the man squealed. “The marina! He’s takin’ her to the marina!”
“Which boat?” Wolf demanded, twisting the knife a little. “Which slip?”
Ski Mask’s eyes rolled back in his head and Wolf stopped his tormenting. He couldn’t have the man passing out on him. Not before he got his questions answered.
“Answer me!” he bellowed into the man’s face.
Ski Mask focused and gave Wolf what he wanted. And even though it would’ve felt good to free the world from the likes of the murderous, smelly bastard, the better angels of Wolf’s nature won out.
Pocketing the knife, he grabbed the Glock from his back waistband. “Move!” he told Ski Mask, gesturing with the pistol. “Walk out onto the front porch.”
Twenty seconds later he had Ski Mask secured to the porch railing with Parson’s handcuffs and was digging through the now unconscious cop’s pockets for the keys to the truck parked by the curb.
After he found what he was looking for, he checked Parsons’s pulse and found it faint and fluttering. “Hang on, man,” he said. “Help is on the way.”
Snatching the police radio from where he’d dropped it, he made one last call to dispatch. “This is Wolf Roanhorse on Fleming Street. Officer Parsons is unconscious and barely breathin’. I’m headed to Bight Marina. That’s where Suspect One told me Suspect Two is taking Chrissy. The boat is theCatch of the Day, and it’s in slip ten. I need backup. Call Detective Dixon, and tell him to get me some damned back up!”
“Sir,” the dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio. “Do not engage in—”
Wolf didn’t hear what else she said. He was already running down the porch steps and jumping into Parsons’s truck.
Chapter 32
12:23 AM…
Wolf, no!
Chrissy had managed to push herself up in the backseat of the car just in time to see Wolf spin like a top. She couldn’t be sure, the light was too dim and the windows in the car were tinted, but she thought she saw blood spray.
“You motherfucker!” she screamed when the Goliath jumped into the driver’s seat. But thanks to the bandanna he’d tied around her mouth, the words sounded more likeoo-muh-ah-uck-ah!
While keeping her pinned to the mattress, the masked giant had ripped off the sling and wrenched her arms behind her back to secure her wrists. But the pain pounding in her shoulder was the least of her worries. Foremost on her mind was Wolf.
Was he alive?
Where had he been hit?
Secondly, she needed to do everything she could to get away from her assailant. Those true crime podcasts always said a woman should fight like hell before allowing herself to be taken to a secondary location.
She glanced at the car door, thinking she could open it even with her hands tied behind her back and then fling herself out of the speeding vehicle. Sure, the road rash would be epic, but better some flayed skin than…well, whatever Goliath had in mind for her. But the door handle was completely covered by duct tape. So were the window controls.
Her abductor had thought ahead.
