“Not sure.” Bud fell into step beside me, his solid bulk breaking some of the wind.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said.
I slipped on the ice, and he grasped my arm, helping me to regain my balance. “Okay.”
He released me. “Did you find a present for Devlin?”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t ready to share that yet, angling around the green dumpster toward the door.
A scratching sound caught my attention, and then electric leads shot out, attaching to Bud’s chest. Electricity zipped, and he gasped, tasered.
“Bud,” I cried out, trying to swat the leads off him.
He went down to the ice-covered ground, convulsing wildly.
A man grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the building, shoving me face first against the bricks. I kicked back, struggling, panicking. The barrel of a gun pressed against my temple, and I subsided.
Was it Jareth Davey? Terror rippled through me. The gun was cold and heavy against my skin. I gulped in air, trying to breathe.
“Drop Bernie McLintock as your client,” the man hissed in my ear, his voice muffled by something and sounding tinny and fake. An odd smell came from him, but I couldn’t identify it. What was that? Something sweet with a hint of…mint?
I blinked, trying to make sense of the words. Drool popped on my lip. “Huh?”
“Do it, or I shoot next time,” the guy growled, feeling solid behind me. “Count to twenty and don’t turn around, or I’ll shoot your friend.”
Then the gun was gone.
No way was I counting to twenty. I gasped and tried to catch my breath, pushing against the wall to turn myself around. Then I ducked to grab Bud and pull him around the dumpster and out of any possible line of fire.
He shook violently but still managed to plant both hands on the ice and shove himself to a seated position. “Call…it…in…” he gasped.
I looked down the alleyway to see our assailant rush around the building next door. Gasping for breath, I fumbled in my purse for my gun, which I placed next to my knee. Then I found my phone, where I dialed the police, giving the ‘officer down’ statement I’d heard on television so many times. I grasped Bud’s arm. “You okay?”
“No,” he snapped, rolling his neck. He pushed to stand and I did the same, levering a shoulder beneath his arm to help him.
We swayed in place, and then he started moving us both toward the door. I ducked and clasped my gun, falling into step with him, breathing out in relief when we got inside. Warmth hit us. “Sit down,” I said, nudging him onto the back stairs for the building. “Take deep breaths.”
“I’m fine.” Even so, he sat. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear that guy.”
Cops poured through the back door and down the hallway from the front door, all angry and on high alert. Bud turned a deep red color and shook off concern.
Pierce jogged inside, took a look at him, and then visibly relaxed. “You need to go get checked out.”
Bud stood and shook his head. “I’ve been tasered before and am fine. Didn’t see much. Guy was in a thick parka with a full face mask that covered his entire head beneath another knit blue cap. He was about six feet tall, eyes were maybe brown? He also wore ski pants, thick ones, so I can’t give you an accurate body type, weight, or even age.”
Pierce looked at me. “You?”
“I just saw the heavy parka, smelled something minty, and heard his voice.” I related what the attacker had said, my mind sluggish now that the adrenaline had escaped my system. “He was muffled behind the mask, and I think he wore some sort of voice distorter over his mouth. He sounded robotic.”
Pierce frowned. “He told you to drop Bernie?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” Were all the odd happenings lately because of the Santa case? It didn’t make sense. Right now, nothing made sense.
“We’re hauling McLintock in again,” Pierce said. “Bud, you go to the hospital and don’t argue with me because it’s department policy. Albertini, you might as well come with me since I’m bringing in your client. That way, at least you’re covered until Bud gets the okay from the doctor.”
I looked at the wounded officer. “Bud needs the rest of the day off.”
