Heath’s hands shook, but he stood and glanced at Denver’s console. The address came up as 2121 Forsaken Lake Road. He faltered.
Ryker took Zara’s hand and pushed it against the wound. Then he waited, his gaze on Heath. “Go,” he mouthed again.
Heath took a deep breath. Then he pressed a button near the screen, and the screen went black.
“Now,” Ryker whispered.
Zara held tight to Denver while Ryker leaped for the cop and took him down. Malloy shouted in warning, but Ryker slammed a fist into the cop’s jaw.
Heath jumped over them both and ran through the kitchen and into the garage, his movements still a little shaky from his injuries. He yanked up the garage door. The car’s crappy engine took two tries to turn over, and then he was speeding out of the small neighborhood and west. Nobody shot at him, so perhaps Malloy hadn’t brought backup.
Man, he hoped the cop was all right and in a forgiving mood. If he arrested Ryker, everything would go to shit even worse.
If that were possible.
Grabbing his phone, Heath typed the address into his GPS with one hand. Shit. He was almost an hour away.
He quickly made a prayer to a God he wasn’t sure about to save Anya. She was good and kind and should be saved. He discarded thoughts about the other victims and how they were good, too. If God didn’t save those women, why would he save Anya?
Heath’s foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, and he slid through two intersections before he calmed himself down. He had one gun and one crappy car for this fight, but there hadn’t been time to suit up with the cop there. Sirens trilled through the storm, and an ambulance passed him, followed by several patrol cars, heading for the blue house. Would Malloy turn him in?
He had to get to her. Now.
CHAPTER
41
The feeling came back into Anya’s extremities with a rush of needlelike pain. She gasped while sitting on the couch, tears falling down her face.
Daniel stood near the fireplace in the cabin, watching her. “Hurts, huh?”
She tried to glare at him as her body thawed. “I’m going to rip you apart.”
“Interesting.” He crossed arms over his soaking-wet shirt. Apparently the cold didn’t bother him. “They usually beg to live right about now. Promise me anything I want if I’ll let them go.”
“Oh, I promise you I’ll see you dead,” she spat, her body shuddering. Her toes felt like flames licked at them. Did she have frostbite?
“I wonder how long it’ll take for you to beg.” Red slid into his face, and his lips pursed. “I’m really looking forward to our life together.” Almost casually, he leaned down and pulled up his pant leg to remove a wicked-looking knife. “You’re going to pay for not seeing the real me.”
Part of his game was to make her squirm, and she knew it. So she faced him as bravely as she could, unwilling to give him any satisfaction. “Fuck you, loser.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Your sister said the exact same thing to me.”
Anya doubled over as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her poor sister. And Loretta had been seriously trained. How could Anya survive if Loretta hadn’t?
Heath’s face swam across her vision. Strong and handsome, he had given her himself. She knew he would come for her. All she had to do was stay alive until he found her. If she could get the knife from Daniel, she’d stab him right through the eye and go looking for Heath. Maybe he was still in the hospital. He had to be all right. He just had to be.
She shook her head to focus her thoughts when everything was so jumbled up inside her. “I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m not a real redhead?” she asked grimly.
“Neither was your sister.” Daniel shrugged. “It isn’t that important to me. You’re the woman for me. Maybe I’ll tear your hair out to prove it.”
“You’re sick,” Anya said, shoving to her feet. Pain prickled up her legs, and she winced. “You’re a psychopath with delusions. A simple, run-of-the-mill serial killer.” She eyed the distance between them. His balls had to still smart from when she’d kicked him. The idea of using her foot again made her want to cry harder, but she’d do it. If she could nail him, she could go for the knife.
Running for the door again held little appeal. But she’d take any opportunity.
Daniel sprang for her before she could move. Grabbing her hair, he jerked her forward and pressed the knife to her throat. “Don’t even think of kicking me again.”
She struggled against him, frustration welling up in her. At some point, he’d have to lower the knife. “Shouldn’t I be getting a burlap sack by now?” she hissed, fury all but consuming her.
