by Sarah Cain
Kevin’s hands tightened on her ass. “No. It’s too risky.”
“We don’t have options. I’m not threatening. You are. Give me a few minutes, then call for backup or whatever you cops do.” She saw him wince and knew he hated the thought of sending in a woman to do his work for him. “I can do this, Kevin. Trust me.” She gave him a smile that had a lot more bravado than she felt. “Now give me a kiss like you mean it, and then it’s time to dance with the devil.”
69
The lights had gone. Only the agony remained. It engulfed him until he wanted to use the knife on himself, but he clenched his teeth together. Someone would come.
Danny heard the key turn in the lock, and he gripped the knife.
Lyle entered and stood at the foot of the cot. “You awake?”
Danny didn’t answer.
Lyle walked to the side and stood with his hands on his hips. Danny watched him through slitted eyes. “Time to rise and shine.” Lyle smiled and bared those crooked teeth. “Well, you put up a fight, I’ll give you that. I hate pussies. And kids. I did a kid once. Snapped his neck like a chicken bone. Collateral damage, y’know?”
Heat shot through Danny. An explosion of fury so violent that his blood scarred his veins.
Conor in his car seat. His eyes wide open. Trapped. This bastard the last thing he saw.
Danny heard the locks on the closet door snap one by one. He pressed the knife against his side, clutched the handle in his fist, but he waited for his moment.
The old man’s laughter roared in his head. His hands shook. Not from fear. He knew where to stick a blade. Sweet-faced Danny Ryan. Come a little closer, you son of a bitch.
Lyle grabbed Danny and yanked off the blanket. When Lyle pulled him to his feet, Danny shoved the curving blade into Lyle’s gut and jerked it up. Blood spilled in a hot stream over his hands and chest; its thick odor mingled with the putrid stench of Lyle’s rupturing intestines.
Lyle’s eyes widened. His mouth opened to scream, but only a gurgle came out. Froth and blood welled up, bubbling from his lips. He held out his hand as if looking for pity, but Danny had none to give. He felt nothing but the fury that burned like blue flame.
Though he knew he was wasting his strength, Danny twisted the knife deeper and deeper until Lyle sagged to the floor, pulling Danny with him. Danny wanted to shout in triumph. But he dragged himself to his feet and staggered to the door.
70
At the service entrance, Novell crouched behind the dumpster and waited. Steam billowed from a grate and hung in the frigid air. Weird techno music pulsed and raged; it was like standing outside hell. Novell stared at the purple neon sign. Midnight. Its letters were pointed like daggers. Why had he come here? Ryan was a dead man.
Yet here he stood. Without backup. Out of his jurisdiction with a Philly cop acting on his own. And Kate. How did you begin to classify Kate? Maybe you didn’t classify her. Maybe the time had come to let her go.
Novell wished he’d brought a flask and then figured it was better to have a clear head. Just for fun, he let the air out of Bruce Delhomme’s tires.
He had just finished with the back tire when he noticed the cellar doors. They were built into the ground and padlocked. Novell looked around. Since the music was booming, he decided he could take a risk. He pulled out his SIG, placed the muzzle against the lock, and fired.
When nobody came to investigate the gunshot, Novell pulled the lock free and jerked on the doors. He expected it to be pitch black beneath the doors, but the narrow steps were dimly lit. He climbed down. It was cold and damp with that musty smell of mold and mildew that made him feel like spores were coating the insides of his lungs every time he took a breath.
Novell found himself in a passage lit by safety lights. He could still hear the music playing. The bass throbbed overhead, but it sounded eerie now, maybe because this place seemed a little too much like a dungeon.
Novell edged his way down the corridor. To his right was a row of doors. Novell opened the first door. The room was a cell, empty save for a chain that hung from the ceiling, a sink, a metal table, and a cot. Video cameras were set in the walls. Each room was the same.
Jesus fucking Christ.
A door stood open, and Novell’s heart jumped against the walls of his chest. Inside he saw a body curled on the floor in a fetal ball by the side. Not Danny. A huge guy. He looked like a bear had mauled him. The pink of his intestines leaked out through the massive hole in his gut, and he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and horrified.
Novell turned away.
He recognized the bloody, balled-up shirt that lay on the cot and stuffed it in his pocket. The table in the corner was covered with metal instruments. Scalpels. Knives. Little hooks. Fuck. This was worse than he’d imagined.
A blood trail led down the hall, and Novell followed the splotches of red around the twisting corridors. He paused at an intersection of tunnels to catch his breath, his fingers aching from gripping the SIG. It was a goddamn labyrinth.
He jerked around when he heard something clatter against the stone floor up ahead. Before he could move, a hulk in a black leather jacket appeared in the tunnel on his right and said, “What the fuck?”
71
Trapped.
If Danny moved from his niche, he’d be exposed, and he was too goddamn tired to run. He scooped up the knife he’d dropped when the furry something ran over his foot and tried to shrink into the cold stone wall.
The act of forcing air into his lungs almost drove him to his knees. It sounded like a death rattle in his chest. He didn’t know how long he’d been shuffling through the maze of corridors, but he’d almost reached the end of his endurance. His own blood trailed down the hall behind him.
He could hear slow, heavy footsteps. More than one pair of feet. They walked with the care of men picking their way through a minefield. Then a muffled voice.
He flinched when he heard three booms in quick succession. They echoed off the walls and were followed by two thuds. Danny froze. Now what? If he went back, there was only that cell. He gripped the knife against his side and pushed away from the niche.
When he rounded the turn, he saw a big man lying on the floor with half his head blown away. Brain matter, blood, and skull fragments were sprayed against the floor, and an ever-widening puddle of deep red spread around the shattered remains. A second man sprawled against him with a hole in his throat the size of his fist and a second in his chest. He stared at Danny with lifeless eyes. A stream of red dripped from his open mouth.
Danny took a step back, and Novell appeared like some kind of avenging angel from the shadows. His eyes shone a little too bright, and his cheeks flushed deep red. His breath came shallow and fast, and though he wasn’t smiling, Danny could sense the big, chest-thumping victory whoop that lay beneath the surface. Novell looked like a junkie on the best high of his life.
He understood it.
Novell assessed Danny for a minute, and his mouth grew pinched. He yanked off his overcoat and draped it over Danny’s shoulders. “Put this on. There’s a back way. Past those cells. Can you walk that far?”
Danny slid his arms into the coat and tried to ignore the way the fabric pulled at his torn flesh. “No. Mason’s upstairs. Novell—”
“What are you talking about?”
Christ, it was a nightmare. He had to explain and was running out of time and air. “I can’t—Mason—is here—Kate—Mason was—I promised.”
“She told you about Mason?” He saw the understanding dawn in Novell’s eyes. “She’s here with your brother.”
“Upstairs?” Danny slumped against the wall. They’d come for him.
“You’ll never make it,” Novell said. “And I don’t need the liability.”
“Go. I’ll . . . follow.” Danny didn’t want to argue the point, especially when he could see the stairwell through the tunnel up ahead. “Get him.”
“Goddamn you.” Novell’s voice shook a little, but he p
ut his arm around Danny’s waist. “Lean on me and move. Don’t argue.”
Danny shuffled with Novell until they reached the stairwell. He looked up. It seemed endless.
“I’m going first. I’m gonna look for a way out,” Novell said. “You follow. If something happens to me, find Kevin and get yourself out.” Novell squeezed his shoulder. “You do the big guy?”
Danny held out the knife. Novell shook his head, but he sounded almost pleased when he said, “You’re a goddamn idiot, Ryan.”
“He killed . . . Conor.” Danny could feel his last reserves crumbling, and he turned his head away.
Novell leaned close. “Listen to me because I’m only gonna say it once. Keep going. No matter what happens. And keep down. You understand? If you want to get out of here alive.”
72
By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Novell had disappeared through the metal door at the top. Danny was coughing blood, and he had to grip the railing with both hands to keep from falling backward. His hands were slippery with sweat. He didn’t care what was on the other side of the door, but when he stumbled through it, he found himself in yet another corridor. Purple neon lights edged the matching walls and ceiling. The deep-violet carpet felt smooth and soft beneath his bare feet.
The music was so loud now he thought his head would explode from the shattering bass line. The wall vibrated when he leaned against it. No sign of Novell.
No place to go but forward.
The wall to his left split open, and a woman clad in a leather cat suit stepped out. She wore a mask over the upper part of her face, and her lips were painted black. When she saw him, she paused with her hands on her hips. She tapped her fingers, their tips long and silver, and then she smiled, and he almost did a double take. Her teeth were filed to sharp points.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” she said and stepped toward him. “Come upstairs, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
He stared at her, fascinated and repelled, and he wondered if he was hallucinating. He almost expected to hear the opening bass riff of Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit.”
“Have to get out,” he said.
“You’re bleeding on the floor. I think you aren’t supposed to be here at all.”
“Please.”
She hesitated and then looked behind her, like she expected trouble to pop out of the wall. “Give me a straight answer. Did they have you downstairs?”
He nodded.
“Fuck.” She pointed straight ahead to what seemed like a dead end. “Pull your collar up around your face. Here.” She began to arrange the coat for him, and he tried to ignore the look of pity in her eyes. “You never saw me.” She slipped her arm through his and led him down the hall, letting go when the wall at the other end cracked open. Novell appeared.
“Danny. Move it.” Novell didn’t bother to hide his gun, and the woman stepped back. Her mouth opened like she might scream, but she seemed to think the better of it.
“She helped me,” Danny said. The words scraped his dry throat.
Novell looked at the woman. “If I were you, I’d get my ass out of here before the shit hits the fan. Understand?” She nodded. Danny saw a flicker in her eyes, and then her face went blank. He shuffled down the hall to Novell.
*
“Stay behind me and keep down,” Novell said. “We’re coming behind the kitchen into the club. If I could avoid this, I would, but I can’t.”
Danny could hear the clink of dishes and smell beef searing on a grill. It smelled like his own burnt flesh. The scent of garlic and basil clung to the air. He pushed his fist against his mouth and willed himself not to vomit.
They passed through a final door into a different kind of horror show. The music and the lights hit him like punches, and he couldn’t get his bearings in the vast club. Glow sticks waved as light patterns on the floor changed every few seconds. It was a huge sex emporium. He didn’t think he’d ever seen so many people wearing leather gathered together in one room.
“It’s over there,” Novell said, pointing to a table in the semidarkness of an alcove.
A beam of purple light illuminated it for a second. Delhomme and Mason sat among a crowd of leather-clad women, and Kate walked toward them. At least he thought it was Kate, though she looked oddly like Beth. With each step, she grew more and more surreal.
He reached for Novell. “There.”
Kate wore a short, skintight, black leather dress that laced in front, and she sauntered toward the table with an attitude that had the men turning to stare at her. She should have left a trail of smoke in her wake. The three goons standing in front of the alcove just grinned at her.
Techno music filled Danny’s head and the lights flashed. He pushed after Novell through the crowd, but Danny felt a sick certainty they were too late. It was like watching a chain reaction car crash from an overpass: you could see it coming, but you couldn’t stop it.
In desperation, he stripped off Novell’s coat and watched people back away from him in horror. Mason looked up, and then he was on his feet.
Kate raised her hand. There were two flashes, and Mason clutched his neck. Blood poured between his pale fingers. Delhomme’s mouth was open, but his cries were lost in the music. One of the big goons started to swing around, but Novell was already aiming his SIG. Danny heard the gun boom. There were several booms that followed, and Kate dropped to the ground.
People were screaming and running now, and ahead, Novell ducked when one of the guards took a shot at him. Danny struggled through the torrent of people pouring toward the exits, her name echoing through his heart.
Music still blasted and lights pulsed. Someone knocked him down, and he smashed into a table. Legs and feet went hurtling past him. A heavy boot connected with his skull, but he shook off the pain and crawled the last few feet to Delhomme’s table to pull Kate into his arms. Her back was slippery, and in the light, the blood looked deep purple. She gripped a tiny derringer in her right hand.
Mason slumped down on the floor, his eyes wide, his dark blood staining the front of his silk shirt. He clutched at his neck with one hand and reached the other out to Danny. “Help me.” He choked out the words, the blood leaking through his fingers and out of his mouth.
“Fuck you, Mason.”
“Please . . .” Mason’s hands reached for him, those long, white fingers stretching. “Please . . .” A single tear glistened on Mason’s cheek, and his voice trembled. Mason edged closer until his hands locked around Danny’s leg.
Danny could hear him choking in his own blood. “Do you hear the fucking voice of God, Mason?” Mason’s face crumpled. “Keep listening.”
Kate moved against him, and Danny could feel her shallow breaths feather his cheek when he bent closer. “Kate. Kate, please.” He could smell lavender mixed with the caustic odor of cordite and blood. Where was the fucking bullet hole?
She sighed, and her eyes rolled open. Her lips moved, but her voice was so faint he had to press his ear against her mouth to hear. “Not lost anymore.”
“Not lost.” He pulled her closer. “Kate. We’re not lost. We’re together.”
“I did it.”
“Kate, don’t leave me. Please. I love you. I—”
She took a labored breath, and he watched her eyes drift shut.
The surge came then with relentless force. Black water spilled over him until he could no longer breathe, and Danny sank into the welcoming darkness.
73
Under a cloudless sky, Danny lay on the beach and let the sun warm his exhausted body. Conor dumped bucket after bucket of white sand on him as waves washed up against the shore.
“If we lived on this island, we could come to the beach every day,” Conor said. “We could always be like this.” He poured sand and patted it down. A warm blanket on Danny’s legs.
“Could we stay here, Conor?”
Conor dumped another bucket of sand on Danny’s stomach. More and more sand. “We could always
be together, Daddy. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. I miss you so much.”
Conor smiled. He patted the sand until it felt firm around Danny’s body. Then he leaned close. “Mommy’s dead. She’s in the ground.”
Danny struggled to sit up, but he couldn’t move. The sand had hardened like concrete. Conor sat back on his heels and folded his arms. His eyes grew distant. Cold.
“You can’t stay.”
Danny tried to answer, but he couldn’t speak.
Conor shook his head. “You can’t stay. You let the bad man hurt me.”
Conor stood and walked away, and Danny heard the tide rush in. When he called out, black water filled his mouth and poured down his throat.
*
Danny jerked up in the hospital bed and waited for his heart to slow. It would. Eventually. He’d stop shaking, and his breath would come. He closed his eyes, lay back against the pillows, and willed himself to relax.
He knew he was in a private room in the hospital. He’d been here a week, as close as he could determine, while they reinflated his lung, pumped him full of antibiotics, x-rayed his broken ribs, and ran a full spectrum of tests. He no longer cared what they were for.
They told him he would heal with a minimum of scarring and kept him doped up for the first few days. It dulled the horror a little.
Kate waited for him on the edge of consciousness, and he could almost touch her and smell the lingering scent of her perfume before she melted into darkness. The old man was right. Kate should have stayed away from him. She offered him salvation, and he had gotten her killed. Was that what she meant when she made her deep-sworn vow? She knew somehow they would be parted? She sacrificed herself for him, and a miserable sacrifice it was.