Did I look stupid? There was nothing in the house. What the hell was she coming home to? No, Harry was alone and was exactly where I needed him to be.
At my mercy.
Basements are always the last thing people pack. Because the likelihood is that the last time you packed, half that shit was still in your basement or your garage. Harry didn’t disappoint me. His basement looked like a packrat had moved in and had never moved out.
One hideous wooden chair and a handy length of rope later, and I had him tied to the chair.
My hood was low, and my bandana covered most of my face, but I still knew to disguise my voice. “What are you here for?” I asked him.
“This is my house,” he told me as he looked around.
It struck me as odd that he didn’t seem nervous, and I wondered who was really coming for him. Colleagues? Business partners? More men whose kids he tried to take?
“What do you do with the kids?” I asked him, and I saw his demeanor change. He wasn’t as confident now.
“I don’t know what you—”
My punch shut him up.
“I’ll ask you again, and I advise that you don’t lie. What . . . do you do . . . with thekids?”
“They’re adopted into good homes.”
My next punch made him lose a tooth. I rolled my head on myshoulders as I looked at him, flexing my fist, glad I had the foresight to put gloves on, but pissed his stupid teeth had nicked the latex.
“You like to make films, Harry?” It gave me great satisfaction to see him whiten so much that I was sure he was going to faint. “You like to watch girls give birth and watch their kids get taken away without them even seeing which fucker you give them to?” I leaned on his knees as I stared into his eyes. “You like to watch them bleed out and die on your table?”
He swallowed loudly. “That doesn’t happen often,” he whispered.
“Onceis too often, because you have them in a room with no doctors, no medicine. You like to hear them scream?” I punched him again.
I hit him too hard. I heard a crack, and as I stood back, I took in his slumped form. With a curse, I felt for a pulse. Shit.
Had I just killed Harry?
A creak above me had me still, listening. Was this the company he was waiting for? Looking around the basement, I searched for an exit. Shit. My only way out was up the stairs, and with a small measure of relief, I heard Harry groan.
The footsteps moved closer, and I had no choice but to duck behind a pile of fuck knows what and hide. I needed to know how many there were before I either fought my way out or was busted.
A guy came down the stairs, and I recognized him from the third house we did. Squinting, I watched him as he looked at Harry and then looked around the room. The fact that he wasn’t rushing to his aid told me its own story.
“We seem to have company,” he yelled from his position on the stairs.
I waited — how many were coming? If I kept the element of surprise, I could maybe manage two.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, and thenanother bulky guy was in the basement. Him, I didn’t recognize. But I wouldn’t forget him. The scar on the side of his face was memorable.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked as he strode over to Harry, who was, thankfully for me, alive, but definitely unconscious.
“Mugger?” the other one suggested.
“The house is empty, what was left to take?”
“You think they’re gone?”
Scar Guy looked around the basement. “Well, there’s nothing upstairs. They could be down here, or they could have split when they heard us arrive.”
Were they stupid or lazy? I mean, if they were both, I would thank the angels, but there was no way they weren’t checking the basement. I almost laughed with relief when they did exactly what I thought theywouldn’tdo and both turned and climbed the stairs. My sense of good fortune lasted right up until I heard the bolt slide home.
