His hand dropped to his side and he pulled a small knife from his pocket. Her eyes widened in fear. He traced the side of the blade along her jawline and down her neck. “Keep your mouth shut and stay still and I might not use this. At least not yet.”
Her body went lax. She wasn’t strong enough to fight him, but she was smart enough. There had to be a way to get out of this. She laid her head back and stared numbly toward the opening of the alley as her mind raced.
A shadow appeared at the front of the alley. She blinked and focused on the upside-down outline of a man as it moved toward them. Her body went numb and her brain shut down. Now there were two of them. Luck obviously wasn’t on her side. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate as the blade sliced through her tank top and the cold kiss of metal pressed against her skin.
20
Adark figure huddled in the back of the alley. Graham peered into the darkness, but couldn’t make out what the hell it was. Fear churned in his gut. He and Eric had split up, checking the streets on the north side of Fifth Avenue, away from the ocean. He’d heard part of Mickey and Pete’s conversation, and panic had paralyzed him when the line had gone dead.
But something had caught his eye in the deserted alley. Drawing his gun, he inched farther into the alley. A soft whimper reached his ears and every muscle in his body tightened.
Mickey.
He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, and then blew it out slowly. He couldn’t charge in and put her in danger, but he needed to move quickly. He walked on his tiptoes to minimize the sound of stones crunching under his feet. A large dumpster sat against the wall of the alley behind the kneeling figure. He crouched alongside it as he slithered behind Pete, who held Mickey to the ground. A flash of red hair sprawled against the brown dirt. The jagged edges of a knife pressed against her shoulder.
The metallic taste of fear filled his mouth and red invaded his vision. His hand trembled as he lifted his gun and stepped up behind the sonofabitch. He pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. “FBI. Get the fuck off her.”
Mickey’s eyes flew open and his heart lurched. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Blood trickled down her shoulder and dripped to the ground. Every fiber in his being yelled at him to scoop her into his arms and get her the hell out of here. But the asshole held the knife to her throat. If he shot him, he’d have no choice but to kill him and he needed Pete alive to find out where the missing girls were.
Pete stiffened, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t think you want me to hurt this lovely lady. Back up, put down the gun, and I’ll let her up. Try anything stupid, and I’ll jam this knife into her jugular.”
He kept his eyes trained on Mickey, trying to convey a sense of calm for her. She lay as still as a statue on the filthy ground. Her cotton skirt hitched high on her thigh, revealing inches of pale, creamy skin. The tiny stream of light from an overhead window highlighted brown fingerprints that marred her thigh. Bile burned his stomach lining.
“There’s no way out of this for you,” he said. “Stand up slowly, and put your hands in the air.”
“I have a better idea. I’ll stand up with her, and we’ll walk to the front of the alley. I’ll give you Mickey, and you let me run. Or I cut her.”
“You know that’s not going to work, Pete. We’ve been looking for you for a while. I can’t just let you go.” Pete’s shoulder blades bunched together and his body tensed as he said his name. “Where are the girls?”
Pete had to be weighing his options, which weren’t good. He needed to get Mickey away from him. Mickey dipped her chin a fraction of an inch and stared into his eyes. His lip hitched up inamazement. She wasn’t going down without a fight. He nodded, acknowledging her, before glancing around for something to use as a distraction. The alley was bare except for rocks and scattered trash. He bent down and picked up a large rock, making sure to keep the gun steady on the back of Pete’s head. He jiggled it around in his hand as he stared up at the exterior walls enclosing him in.
A second-story window loomed on the wall opposite him. He tossed the rock up and down in his hand to test its weight. He glanced back down at Mickey and gave her one more nod. His pulse beat against his ears like a hammer. He had one shot; he couldn’t miss. Keeping his gun trained on the back of the bastard’s head, he cocked his other arm back and soundlessly hurled the rock toward the window. He held his breath.
Crash!
Pete lifted his head toward the window and Mickey brought her knee up hard. Graham lurched forward, grabbed Pete’s skinny neck, and yanked him off Mickey. The knife slashed back, nearly nicking him in the side. He twisted away, spinning his captive to face him. He grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and trained his gun to his face. “I’ll shoot you if you don’t stop, you dumb fuck.”
“I’m not going to jail.” He waved the knife around and laughed like a lunatic.
A white spark of light flashed behind him and Pete’s smile disappeared. Convulsions shook his body until he fell like a rock to the ground. Mickey stood behind the crumbled body, her eyes fixed on the motionless form. Her foot reared back and she kicked him in the stomach before looking up at Graham. “I had my taser in my purse, but I couldn’t get to it before.” Her voice shook as she locked eyes with him.
“Good job. Stand there for a second while I cuff him. We don’t know how long he’ll be out.” He pulled out a pair of cuffshe had tucked in the back of his jeans. Once he slapped them on, he pulled Mickey into his arms and ran his hand over the back of her head.
Tremors shook her body and her tears gathered on his neck. “He said the girls were still in Chicago. He came here to get Paula.”
“I heard your conversation with him. I about lost my mind when the call disconnected.” He pulled away and grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Call one of your friends. I need to get Eric here and take this guy in. Do you need to be looked at? Did he hurt you?” His hands gently roamed over her, checking for hidden injuries. He ran the pad of his thumb over her split lip and she winced.
“I’m fine.” Mickey smoothed down her skirt and lifted the torn strap of her tank top. Bloodstains marred the white material. “Just the cut by my shoulder. It’s not deep.”
“Take my shirt. Yours isn’t going to stay up.” He handed her his phone and then lifted the hem of his shirt over his head. The night air hit his bare skin and cooled the fire that had raged inside him.
“Thanks.” She took the shirt, pulled it over her head, and winced.
“What is it? Are you okay?” Alarm sent his nerves on edge.
“I’m fine. The shirt hurt my shoulder a little is all.”
A groan sounded at their feet. He glanced down and Pete’s shut eyelids fluttered. He placed the heel of his shoe on his chest to keep him down. “Once I get Eric here and go over everything, I’ll take you to get checked out.”
