No Perfect Hero(99)
I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him, and I start moving forward – only to freeze as Stewart swings the knife around and grabs her hair, pressing the tip against a single pigtail. Tara cringes, whimpering, holding perfectly still, her eyes so wide the whites show all around the dark, her begging look asking me to save her.
“Stay, Haley,” Stewart warns. He’s still smiling that unnervingly pleasant smile, bland and plastic. “Don’t move, or this little girl might lose far more than her hair.”
I make myself hold in my tracks, pulse pounding, fists clenched. “What do you want, you bastard?”
“Now, now. You don’t want to put any coins in the swear jar, do you?” He clucks his tongue and pushes the knife through her hair. “Just listen to me. Cooperate for a little bit, and this will all be over like a bad dream. Step closer. Real slow. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Snarling under my breath, I take one halting step after another forward, spreading my hands to either side. It’s a good excuse to get closer.
Maybe if I get closer, I'll spot a weakness, a vulnerability. He’s a big man, but that’s a small knife and if I can just get it away from Tara...
“Good girl,” Stewart gushes. “Isn’t your Auntie Hay a sweet, obedient thing, Tara-bug?”
“Don’t you dare speak to her,” I hiss, and he shrugs.
“Fine then. I’ll speak to you, Ms. Mustang. Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head.” When I don’t comply, he narrows his eyes. “Do it.”
I’m trapped.
If I don’t comply, he’ll hurt Tara.
Holding his eyes with all the hate I've ever had, I slowly drop down to my knees, lacing my hands together behind my head.
“Good girl,” he purrs again, pulling away from Tara, but pointing the knife at her. “Don’t move, little girl, or I’ll snap your auntie's neck right in front of your eyes.”
Tara holds perfectly still, except for her hands clapped over her mouth. She shakes her head, eyes streaming, sobs rising.
“Please! Please don’t,” she whispers, numb words muffled against her hands.
“It’ll be okay, baby,” I promise, even if I’m not sure of that at all.
Especially when Stewart stalks behind me and produces a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.
He claps them around my wrists, cold metal against my skin, then uses them like a leash to drag me to my feet. I growl, struggling, jerking my shoulders, only to freeze as the edge of the blade kisses cool against my neck.
Better me than Tara, but it's not much consolation.
“Now you’re gonna behave yourself, little missy,” Stewart whispers, leaning over me. “You hear?”
Close, too close, making my skin crawl with the invasion of his sick heat, with his sickly-warm breaths against my ear. Very slowly, I nod, just once for the asshole.
“You’re lucky I need you alive right now, but I might not always. If you keep on being a good girl, you might just walk away. Be a bad girl, though...” He leans into me, his hips pressed against my rear, and my stomach revolts, lurching. “And I’ll make you very fucking sorry before I let War find your body.”
I say nothing. I just start shaking. If I open my mouth, I’ll vomit.
But I hold Tara’s eyes as Stewart shoves me toward her, then catches her arm in a rough grip.
I need her to focus on me. To trust me to keep her safe. To trust me so I can trust myself.
Because one way or another, I’m going to get us out of this.
I just have to wait for my moment.
20
Across the Line (Warren)
Coeur d’Alene isn’t my best choice for a getaway, but right now it’s the best I’ve got.
I need a city that’s large enough to have adequate resources, and small enough not to be crawling with cops, but not so small that the locals would notice someone out of place, get suspicious, and find out I’m a person of interest who was ordered not to leave town because of an open murder investigation.
Damn it. I’ve become one of my own targets.
I’ll just have to deal till I can sort out who killed Bress, clear my name, and find out the truth behind Jenna’s death.
I’m in Doc’s car, can’t risk my license plate showing up on a traffic cam. Blake’s in the back seat. I’d called Stewart so we’d have a solid four-man unit, but it must be a busy day at the shop because it went straight to voicemail.
We’re currently parked outside a rent-by-the-hour motel where people think nothing of strange cars idling for a while, debating getting a room and setting up a command hub – if we’ll even be here that long.
Reminds me a bit of the Ranger days, except transported to small town America.
Covert missions where we’d have to get in and out without being seen, often holing up in forgotten corners of strange cities and waiting for our moment or for the order to come through. Back then everybody in my unit thought we were invincible, treated it almost like some kind of damn video game.
We’d been young and stupid and high on the hype, but it stops being a game mighty fast when you put a bullet through someone’s skull and realize you just took a human life, enemy or not.