Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(51)

MALICE: I vote we move forward and make sure Otto Radley is punished accordingly. Once Psycho has him in her care, I’m ready to take care of business.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sawyer sat up and listened.

Something had awakened her—a noise, a grunt.

She sat motionless, the beat of her heart drumming against her ribs. An owl hooted in the distance. She’d forgotten about her bruised face until her head began to throb. Another noise. Definitely human. Someone was outside the window.

A branch snapped.

Slowly, she moved the covers and slipped her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the floor. She bent over, found her bag in the dark, and reached inside. Her fingers brushed against her wallet, a pen, the notebook she carried everywhere, and her keys. Careful not to make any noise, she held her keys in a fist and slowly pulled them out. She then removed the canister of pepper spray from the ring. It was no bigger than a tube of lipstick. She grabbed her phone too, then put the purse quietly back on the floor.

Both the window and the door were locked, but it wouldn’t take much effort to break in. A forceful shove against the door would do the trick. She’d removed the curtain from the window, so it was bare. A shadow caught her eye. She lay back against the pillow and tossed the covers over her legs just as a bright beam of light shot into the room. Clamping her eyes shut, she feigned sleep as the light from the flashlight fell across her face.

She considered yelling to possibly scare him or her off, but she wanted to know who was prowling around in the middle of the night, so she waited. Beneath the covers she used her thumb to ready the nozzle on the pepper spray.

The room fell into darkness. She thought she heard the window being jiggled. Then all was quiet until a moment later when the doorknob turned to the right and left. Every muscle tensed as she waited for the door to be kicked open. Seconds turned to minutes. She didn’t move. She just lay there, eyes wide open.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Once again, Malice questioned her sanity. It was 3:30 a.m. on Sunday. It was dark except for a few random stars, and here she was, sitting behind the wheel of a cargo van, watching and waiting. She had no idea where Psycho had gotten the vehicle, and she didn’t want to know.

The only sound was the hoot of an owl.

Malice wore the same black wig she’d had on when they’d dealt with Brad. She also had on a dark hoodie that she kept low over her face. The eye mask was in her backpack. If Otto Radley, the man who had kidnapped Psycho twenty years ago, showed up, she’d put it on.

But that was a big if.

What sort of moron would walk the streets late at night, mere hours after being released from prison?

Leaning forward, she narrowed her eyes to better see. And there was her answer.

Holy shit. It was him. Psycho had called it.

Otto Radley was back, and he was going straight for the bait, which was in the shapely form of their friend Cleo. This was the second time Cleo had volunteered to put herself at risk in the name of vengeance.

The run-down apartment where Otto was staying was a few blocks from a park in North Highlands. Cleo was sitting on a bench, leaning back, legs crossed, taking a hit from her cigarette.

Otto Radley was a giant, his arms like battering rams and his neck as big as a tree stump. His chest was round and thick, and even without seeing his face, he scared the shit out of her. He could easily break Cleo in two without any effort.

They were fucked.

Adrenaline pumping, Malice glanced to her right, where she could barely make out Psycho wearing all black and standing tall as she tried to meld into the trunk of one of the trees dotting the park. Behind her was a grassy field where people spent summer days throwing Frisbees and running after their kids.

Malice wrapped her fingers around the key, ready to turn on the ignition. Otto towered over Cleo like a skyscraper. He must have asked her for a cigarette because she was pulling a pack from the purse hanging from her shoulder.

No. No. No. Psycho had warned Cleo he wouldn’t waste any time taking action. If he approached, Cleo was told to tase him. Immediately. Without hesitation. But she hadn’t, and Otto was quicker than Malice imagined. Before Cleo knew what hit her, Otto had Cleo clutched tight to his chest, carrying her away. He stepped across the cement curb, taking her into the park, past the tree where Psycho was hiding.

Malice leaned forward, her heart beating fast.

Psycho stepped out of hiding and tased Otto in the back of the head.

Malice inhaled, turned on the ignition, and brought the van closer to the action where she could see three bodies rolling around on the ground. Through the open window she heard groans and grunts. Malice grabbed her pepper spray and slipped her wrist through the strap on her stun gun, jumped out of the van, and opened the back cargo doors. A dog barked in the distance as she approached three entwined bodies.

She saw Cleo break away. She was clutching her arm and wincing in pain. Psycho was fighting for her life. Apparently one hit of the Taser hadn’t been enough. Otto was a beast.

Anger filled Malice as she brought the stun gun to his shoulder and held tight. He flinched but didn’t go down as she’d hoped. His elbow came back hard. She grunted but kept her balance, put the Taser to his neck, and finally his chest, firing in short intervals.

Otto fell back, his head thumping hard against the ground.

Psycho used her legs to push away from the bulk of his frame. Malice wasn’t taking any chances. She took the pepper spray and squirted it into his eyes, blinding him.