Jack grabbed a dish towel hanging over the stove and twisted it around.
“Where is she?” Jack asked.
Garcia lunged forward without giving him a response. Jack used the towel to counter his attack. He sidestepped, twisted it around his wrist in lightning fashion, pulled it tight and dragged him forward, then to the left, before kicking the back of his knee and knocking him to the ground. Jack followed through with a swift elbow to the face knocking his head into the kitchen island. Garcia dropped the knife and threw up a hand. “All right, all right.”
Jack kept a firm grip on his wrist and hunched over to haul him up.
No sooner had he gone to grasp him than Garcia drove his weight forward and let out a yell as he slammed Jack into the counter behind him. He clasped a hand around Jack’s neck and managed to break loose of the restraint around his wrist. He latched on to Jack’s wrist and forced it down towards the drain in the sink. It happened so fast. One second he had the better of him, the next Garcia had switched on the garbage disposal and was trying to turn his hand into putty. Because of the position he was in, it took all his strength to fight back and prevent him from forcing his hand down into the disposal. As he had both of his hands and Jack was pressed back, he did the only thing he could and drove his knee up hard hoping to strike his groin. He reacted on instinct and hoped for the best. Garcia heaved and Jack used that momentary pain to his advantage by powering forward and head-butting him. He followed through with multiple jabs to the stomach and an uppercut to the face, knocking him out cold.
Breathing hard and trying to catch his breath he looked down at the unconscious detective and twisted around and turned the water on. He cupped a few handfuls of water into his mouth and ran the last one over his face.
While Garcia was still out Jack grabbed him by the back of the collar and dragged his big ass down the corridor and into the living room as it would give him a good view of anyone coming from outside. He dropped his heavy weight, grabbed a chair and slumped him against it. Then he went into the garage and returned with some rope from a kayak to tie him up. After, he stepped back and sank into a seat across from him to catch his breath. Jack looked around and listened. No one had shown up while they were fighting and it was quiet in the house except for the TV. He turned it off, retrieved his Glock and did a quick sweep of the house to make sure the rest of his family wasn’t hiding away. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d gone after a target and the family had called the cops, or the wife had surprised him by appearing with a rifle.
Just as he figured, there was no one home.
The question now was, where were they and when would they return?
The main bedroom closet was stocked with female clothes, as was the kid’s room.
She hadn’t left him so was she out for the night or on vacation?
Jack made his way down and paced before pondering what to do with him.
Rage gave way to dark thoughts. Thoughts he hadn’t had in years.
Jack headed out into the garage and rooted through his equipment, picking up a hammer, and just before he returned he spotted another item. He snatched it up.
Chapter 19
Minutes later, Jack splashed water over his face and gave Garcia a slap. He gasped and spluttered coming to. Disoriented, his eyes roamed the room until they fixed firmly on Jack. “You bastard!” The chair rocked as he tried to lunge forward but couldn’t because of the tight restraints.
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
Jack perched on the large coffee table in front of him, wielding a hammer.
“I don’t know who the hell you are or what you think I’ve done but—”
Uncertain if he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Jack began with the easy approach. He fired off a punch but kept his feet on top of Garcia’s so he couldn’t go anywhere. Garcia spat out a blob of blood onto the floor.
“Dana Grant. Santa Fe Plaza. A week ago.”
“I wasn’t there. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He was losing patience with the man and well aware that his family could arrive.
“Is that your final answer?”
Garcia spat blood in Jack’s face. “You are fucking with the wrong person.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same.”
Jack brought the hammer down on his hand with such force it broke the skin.
He let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Now let’s try that again, shall we?”
Garcia groaned. Tears streaked his face.
“Dana Grant.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the folded-up photo of her and shoved it in front of his face. “Remember her?”
He stared at it, his eyes shifted to Jack’s and he shook his head.
“Wrong answer.”
Bone crunched in his second hand as Jack brought the hammer down even harder than he had on the first. Garcia’s cry was so loud that Jack had to stuff Garcia’s own sock in his mouth.
“Oh detective, this night is not going to end well. Stop dicking me around or I’ll move to the feet next.” Jack sniffed and wiped blood off his hands and slapped Garcia a few times. “Hey, hey, focus!” He brought up the photo again. “A week ago. Santa Fe Plaza. If you don’t recognize her, then perhaps you might explain what you were doing staring at her so intently?”
Jack stabbed the blown-up photo and pointed to
