We reach the vehicle, and he stops before finally looking me over head to toe. “What did you touch? You’re covered in blood.”
“Everything,” I explode. “I was trying to find a phone.” I checked the two men in the car who were dead and couldn’t find any sort of phone to call for help. The images of their wounds and so much blood will haunt me forever, and I try not to look at them now.
Alexei’s gaze sweeps me. My hands and white shirt are covered in blood since I tried to stem the bleeding chest of the man half out of the car. Trying to help him had been an instinctual response. When I realized he was dead, I tried to run, keeping close to the warehouse buildings. I hustled toward the main road, hoping I was running in the right direction. I saw the man standing, smoking a cigarette, and then two shots echoed from above me. From Alexei.
He’d killed so easily. So expertly.
He drops his head for a moment and closes his eyes. “You touched everything? You mean your fingerprints are all over that car?”
“Probably.” I punch him as hard as I can in the arm, and his grip remains tight.
He waits until I look up at his eyes before he releases me. “Why the hell were you looking in that car? They’re obviously dead.”
I had tried to save one guy first. “I was looking for a phone to call the police.”
Alexei blinks once, very slowly. A pit of dread drops into my stomach.
“The police?” He slowly shakes his head. “Goddamn it, Rosalie.” Red spirals across the top of his finely cut cheekbones and fury lifts his eyes, but his voice remains deadly soft.
I gulp and want to explain myself. But that’s just wrong, so I remain silent. Who is this man? I scan for an escape route and only see dilapidated buildings and torn-up asphalt. There’s nowhere for me to run.
“Stay here,” he orders and strides toward the last man he killed.
My legs wobble and I look around. Wait a minute. The bike! I can’t remember if he left the key in the ignition or not. If he did, I can escape on the motorcycle.
I run as fast as I can back to that hidden warehouse, dodging inside and scrambling for the vehicle. No key. My heart absolutely sinks. I have no idea how to hot-wire a motorcycle.
I look around for a weapon and spot what looks like a rusty old tire iron in the corner. It’s better than nothing. I scramble over garbage and a couple of torn, gray boxes to reach the makeshift weapon. The dirty metal is heavy and scratches my hands.
Then I hurry outside looking for Alexei, reaching the wrecked car and dead bodies. Even if I can reach a main road, we’re in the middle of nowhere. But I have to get away from him. I look up to see him walking toward the car with the body of the third man over his shoulder. He opens the back door and shoves the guy inside. What in the heck is he doing?
Turning to glare at me, he throws the rags inside and returns to the trunk where I can’t see him. It’s open, and the lid hides him, but smoke soon spirals from both sides. He must’ve taken the lighter from the smoker.
Now might be my only chance. So I turn and begin running in the opposite direction, my kitten heels sliding on the uneven ground.
He’s on me before I even know he’s coming. “You’re not going anywhere.” He snags the nape of my neck and yanks me to a stop. Heat flares up my esophagus, and I whirl, swinging the tire iron with all of my strength.
He grabs my wrist, but the end still hits his jacket with a satisfying thunk. “Damn it.” Wrenching the rusty weapon out of my hand, he drags me toward the now burning vehicle.
I uselessly try to punch him, but my fist glances off his jacket.
We reach the cinder block where I’d hit my heel. The one that had stopped me before.
“Knees,” he snaps.
I blink. What is he saying?
One sharp hand smacks the back of both of my knees, and I drop, more out of surprise than pain.
“Cross your ankles,” he snarls.
I do so, my mind spinning, knowing the vulnerable position will keep me from moving fast. Is he going to kill me, too? What had I been thinking taking this case?
Trying to free a killer? He might not have stabbed David Fairfax to death, but he certainly killed the three men in the now smoking car.
He releases me. “Move and you’ll fucking regret it.”
I watch his boots stride away.
