open the rear door. Gorilla Arms emerged carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle in both arms. A child-size bundle. He kicked the door shut as Bellitto led the way across the shadowed sidewalk. Now Jack knew the reason for the shot-out street light.
Closer now, he searched for some sign of movement within the blanket but saw none. His gut gave a lurch as an ankle and a little sneaker fell free of one of the folds and dangled in the rain.
Shit, he might be too late.
A dark place within him cracked open, leaking boiling fury into his bloodstream. Wanted to pull his .38 and charge in and start capping faces, but it was two to one and a kid in the middle who might be salvageable. So instead of charging he slowed his pace and put a weaving stagger into his step. He reached inside his shirt, slipped his hand through the slapper's wrist loop, and gripped the hard leather handle.
The two men froze on the one-step front stoop when they noticed Jack's approach. Bellitto's hand hovered before the lock as he stared Jack's way. Jack kept shuffling by, head down under the paper, ostensibly lost in an alcohol or drug-induced fog, but watching them from the corner of his eye.
'C'mon!' Gorilla Arms hissed to Bellitto. 'I'm getting soaked.'
As soon as he passed them, Jack peeked over his shoulder, saw their backs turned, and made his move. Spun, pulled out the slapper, and darted toward the stoop. Door just starting to swing open. Had to take out Gorilla Arms first.
Jack slipped in close and put everything he had into a kick behind Gorilla Arms' left knee. Felt the square toe of his boot sink deep into the nerve-, vessel-, and tendon-loaded concavity.
Gorilla Arms let out a loud sharp cry, something like, 'Ahhh!' as his knee buckled under him. He went down on that knee, still cradling the blanket bundle, and that lowered his skull to perfect home-run height. Jack took aim at the bald head hovering before him and put shoulder, arm, and a snap of the wrist behind the slapper. Like swatting a T-ball. The leather-clad lead weight landed with a meaty thwak! and Gorilla Arms keeled over sideways with a groan. The blanket bundle landed atop him.
Heard Bellitto's keys drop and turned to find him fumbling in the side pocket of his suit coat. Jack gave a quick, backhanded swing of the slapper that grazed the side of his head. Bellitto lurched away, stumbled, and landed on his back.
Jack turned back to Gorilla Arms, saw him shake his head and push himself up on one elbow. Tough. Or maybe he had a two-inch-thick skull. Gave him another shot behind the ear and that crumpled him. Down for the count.
Jack suppressed the boiling urge to work the two of them over, mess them up royally, but even with the dead street lamp overhead, enough light leaked up and down the block from the live ones to make him feel exposed out here. Someone might have seen this little tussle and be calling 911 right now. Plus the kid was limp as a sack of grain inside that blanket. No time for fun. Had to find some help, the medical kind.
Stuffed the slapper back into his shirt and bent to lift the kid, caught a blur of movement behind and to his right, twisted away and felt a sharp pain score his right flank.
Bellitto-rearing back to stab at him again with a knife that would have been sticking out of the center of Jack's back now if he hadn't moved.
Jack rolled to his feet and took it to Bellitto, headbutting him as he grabbed his knife hand and slammed him back against the door. He pressed against Bellitto, chest to chest, belly to belly, trapping him. He had Bellitto's left wrist locked in his right hand, low, against their thighs. His left fingers were wrapped around the knife hand, higher, at shoulder level.
He spoke through his teeth. 'Care to dance?'
Bellitto shook his head. Blood trickled from his nostrils. 'You hurt me.' He seemed surprised... shocked.
'That's only the beginning.'
Jack had been cut and though the pain was minimal, it only stoked his fury. He wanted-needed-to hurt back.
He glanced at the long slim blade. Looked like a stiletto, a seven-incher. Dark streaks on the blade. Blood. Jack's.
'But I'm invincible... invulnerable.'
'Really.'
'Yes!'
He tried to knee Jack in the groin, but Jack had his own knees locked against him. He tried to angle the blade toward Jack, grunting with the effort, his breath rasping in Jack's face.
Jack was stronger, turned the angle back toward Bellitto as he forced the knife downward. Between them.
Bellitto struggled more violently but sagged back when Jack headbutted him again. Goddamn that felt good. Wished he had a steel plate in his head so he could keep that up. Smash his face to creep jelly.
The knife was now between their chests but Jack kept forcing the blade lower. Bellitto's half-dazed eyes grew large as he realized where the point was headed.
'No!'
''Fraid so,' Jack said.
... lower...
'No, please! You can't!'
'Watch me.'
'This isn't happening!'
'Not like dealing with little boys, is it. That's what you prefer, right. Little boys... someone you can have total control over?'
'No, you don't understand.'
... lower...
Bellitto tried to release the knife but Jack squeezed his fingers, keeping them wrapped around the handle.
'Oh, but I do,' Jack cooed. 'I do, I do, I do. And now the control's on the other side. And how does that feel, you piece of shit?'
'It's not like that! Not like that at all!'
... lower...
'Then call for help. Go ahead. Scream at the top of your lungs.'
Bellitto shook his head. The rain had plastered strands of his thin hair over his forehead.
'Right,' Jack said. 'Because the cops would want to know about the kid, how he got here, what you did to him.'
Jack knew the cops could already be on their way. Had to wrap this up and move.
Tightened his grip on Bellitto's knife hand. 'I just hope you didn't do something like this.'
Drove the blade downward into Bellitto's groin, deep, felt it slice through fabric and flesh, then broke free, taking the knife with him.
Bellitto's eyes bulged as his jaw dropped open. With a long, high-pitched gasp of agony he doubled over, knees knocked, hands clutching his crotch.
'Next time you look at a kid-every time you look at a kid-remember that.'
Jack folded the bloody knife and stuck it in his pocket. Some of that blood was his and he didn't want his DNA profile ticking like a time bomb in some computer criminal database for all eternity. His right flank stung as he turned. Looked and saw a dark stain spreading through his rain-soaked shirt.
Damn. How had he let that happen?
Moved to the blanket bundle draped across the still unconscious Gorilla Arms. Loosened some of the folds and exposed the kid's round face. His eyes were closed. Looked like he was sleeping. Touched the forehead. Still warm. Placed his cheek over the slack little mouth. Warm breath flowed. Caught a sweet chemical smell. Chloroform?
Relief flooded through Jack. Still alive. Drugged up until Bellitto and Gorilla Arms could get him inside for whatever sick games they had planned.
No games tonight.
But now what? Instincts screamed to take off and call 911 as soon as he reached his car. But that meant
