“You’re dead when I catch up to you.”
She sidestepped right to draw a long knife from a butcher block and threw open the door.
Six feet away, Blade, the man who had held a knife to her throat at her apartment, was ascending the two steps leading to a three-foot-square concrete landing just outside the kitchen. He froze for a beat before throwing back the right half of his suit coat.
Seeing the holstered weapon on Blade’s hip, Faith envisioned Linebacker closing the distance from behind. Take out the nearest threat first. She advanced and swung the butcher knife.
Blade retreated into a garage while raising his left arm a half second ahead of seeing the stainless-steel slice through his sleeve. He grimaced when the tip touched skin.
Faith made two more strikes while lunging forward with each attack.
Taking longer strides, Blade backtracked with each attack, gained separation from her, and drove his dress shoe into her gut.
Groaning, she hunched over and held her belly.
He drew his firearm.
She lifted her gaze.
He aimed the Glock 22 at her nose and slowly shook his head. “Knives and gunfights...they don’t mix well.”
She stood taller while catching her breath.
He smiled. “Drop it.”
“Why,” she filled her lungs, “why don’t we both drop our weapons and,” she made fists, “go back to basics.”
Feeling liquid running down his forearm, he chuckled.
“Unless you’re afraid of losing to a woman.”
“I won’t tell you again.”
“If you wanted me dead, you’ve had plenty of time and opportunity. That tells me I’m more valuable to you alive.”
Blade cocked his head to one side. “True. But there’s a lot of real estate between alive and dead.”
Faith felt a looming presence behind her...right before she felt something hard slam into her right kidney. Gasping, her body going rigid, she fell to one knee and slapped the garage floor to keep from toppling over.
Linebacker disarmed her and forced her to both knees.
Her joints pressing on the hard surface, waves of pain flooded her senses.
He pinned her arms behind her back, got a handful of hair, and wrenched her head backward, exposing her throat.
Blade holstered his pistol, approached, and picked up the knife. “You’ve cut me,” he touched the bandage on his left cheek, “twice now, Ms. Mahoney.”
She glanced down and saw drops of blood coming from his forearm and staining the concrete. She looked up at him, smiling. “Care to make it three?”
He backhanded her across the face.
Her head held firm by Linebacker, Faith was unable to roll with the punch. Her left cheekbone absorbed the full brunt of the blow.
Blade touched the weapon’s tip to her neck, “I have orders not to harm you,” before slipping the instrument under the neckline of her t-shirt. “But,” he drew the knife downward, slowly cutting the thin cotton material down to her belly button, “orders change. And when they do,” he ogled the inner portions of her breasts, “I’ll take great pleasure in carrying them out.”
Linebacker sneered.
“So,” tasting blood, her elbows almost touching each other near her spine, her deltoids close to tearing, Faith struggled against the man with a viselike grip on her upper arms, “the only way you can get a woman is,” she winced at the throbbing coming from her swelling face, “is at knifepoint?”
Blade laughed. “At knifepoint, gunpoint, I don’t care how it happens...but I’ll have you, Ms. Mahoney.” He lifted the knife and eyed the shiny metal. “And then I’ll really have my way with you.” A beat later, he jerked his chin toward the far side of the garage. “Take her back to the basement.”
*******
Linebacker picked up his pace and shoved his hostage.
Unable to get her arms back around in time to break her fall, Faith landed face first on an old canvas cot, the wooden frame creaking under the sudden load.
Linebacker backed out of the ten-by-ten room and returned, “The next time you need to piss,” tossing a coffee can onto the floor a second later, “there you go.”
She trundled onto her left side, eyed the metal toilet rolling her way, and examined her handiwork displayed on his face.
While Faith had missed his eyeball with the shank, she had managed to open a three-inch-long trench just below his left eye. His left cheek was red and glistened in the glow of a light coming from outside the room.
“As for your other bodily functions,” he glanced at the cinder block walls with no windows and flashed a crooked smile at her, “if I were you, I’d try my best to hold it.” He slammed shut the door.
Enveloped in total blackness, listening to the sound of a lock being secured, Faith threw her legs over the side of the cot, sat upright, and rolled her shoulders. She felt around and found the battery-powered lantern she had been given. Her fingers on the light source’s knob, she hesitated. Not sure how long I’ll be here. She returned the powered-down lantern to the floor beside her bed. Need to save the batteries.
After touching fingertips to her injured cheek and wincing, she dropped elbows onto aching knees, hung her head, and weaved fingers through her hair. What do they want with me? If it’s money they’re after, they picked the wrong person to kidnap.
She went to her back, laid her head on a thin pillow, and folded her arms over her chest. Her mind carried her back to the attack. She had had all of two seconds to scribble out a note and hide the scrap of paper before picking up the floor lamp. She had wanted to leave a clue to help investigators identify the criminals. The investigator she had in mind, however, was not one of her fellow officers. She had stashed the note in a hiding place only her sister would think to look. She made a face. Maybe that wasn’t the best of places.
Feeling a chill, Faith overlapped the ends of her split t-shirt, only to have the taut material spread
