“Shut up,” she said, greasy revulsion slithering through her. Clutching the gun in both hands, she lowered the muzzle from his chin, to the bulge in his pants.
Almost immediately, he gulped, quieted. For the first time, genuine fear crept into his fevered eyes. He was crazy, a psycho, but above all, still a man, more concerned about the head between his legs than the one sitting atop his shoulders.
She shoved the muzzle against him harder, and he gasped.
“Wanna bet that I won’t blow your balls off to get my daughter back?” she said. “Wanna try me? Do you?”
“You’re a crazy bitch, stupid motherfuckin’ slut-”
“Raise your hands!” she shouted.
Lips quivering, he obeyed.
She felt jittery, drunk on adrenaline. But she had never in her life been so determined.
She slid off his lap and got to her feet. She kept the gun aimed at his vital parts. Watching her, he licked his lips nervously.
“Now, you’re taking me to my baby,” she said. “Get up, and keep those hands up, too. Do it slowly.”
“Be cool, baby girl, all right? Be cool.” He stood. “No one has to get hurt.”
“Go open the door.” She pointed to the doorway with the gun.
“Okay, okay, be cool, all right, Clair Huxtable. Be cool.”
“Stop calling me Clair Huxtable. This isn’t a damn TV show. My name is Simone Webb. Dr. Simone Webb. Now get your ass to the door.”
“All right, Dr. Simone Webb, all right, you’re the boss lady.”
As he walked to the door, hands raised, heavy, rapid footsteps pounded in the hallway outside. Before Leon could reach the knob, the door flew open.
Simone drew back, finger on the trigger.
Billy staggered inside the room. His dull gaze raked over her, but didn’t appear to register the gun. He turned to Leon, face downcast.
“The girl is gone,” he said flatly.
“What?” Simone and Leon shouted in unison.
Billy’s round face reddened; he looked like a child expecting punishment. “I went to sleep. She was hiding in the closet. When I woke up, I looked in there. She was gone.”
Shock deadened Simone’s knees. “We’ve got to find her.”
“You aren’t running the show,” Leon said with a snarl. He glanced at Billy. “Billy, get the gun away from this bitch. She was going to kill me.”
The huge man turned on Simone. His enormous chest swelled, making him appear even more gigantic, and his nostrils flared.
Simone backpedaled a few steps, hands trembling on the gun. “I only want my daughter. I’ll go find her myself. Just let me leave.”
“Get her, Billy!” Leon said, like a dog handler unleashing a killer canine on a trespasser.
Billy charged her. He spread his tremendous arms and roared, saliva spraying from his mouth.
Screaming, she pulled the trigger. The gun’s booming report hurt her ears, the recoil snapping through her already sore wrists.
A bloody wound appeared in Billy’s abdomen, and pain seared his face, but he kept coming, implacable. Backing up fast, she squeezed the trigger again, at point blank range, and a round punched into his chest.
But he kept coming, and before she could get off another shot, he crashed into her.
It was like being hit by a bus. She slammed against the wall, struck her head against the plaster. Bright stars wheeled in her vision.
In the back of her mind, she realized the collision had knocked the gun out of her hands.
Groaning, Billy collapsed to the floor. She crumpled on top of him. Dizzy with pain, out of breath, she rolled away from his body. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She blinked, pushing the stars out of her eyes.
Baby, I’ve got to get my baby.
She crawled toward where she thought she had dropped the gun.
But Leon had already picked it up. He towered over her.
“Slut bitch,” he said.
He kicked her in the ribs. The tip of his shoe felt like an ax blade. She screeched and curled into a ball, folding her body around the agony.
In her pain, she could only think that she’d had her opportunity to save her baby, and she had lost it. Tears flooded her eyes.
Leon strolled to where Billy lay sprawled on the floor. The big man’s T-shirt was saturated with blood, slow, ragged breaths bellowing out of him.
“Gut shot,” Leon said blandly. “Helluva way to go. Thanks for your loyal service, amigo.”
He shot Billy in the head, and the giant’s breathing ceased forever.
The bedroom door was open, but Simone was too afraid to move. She lay contorted in fetal position, pain swelling across her rib cage with each breath she took.
Leon knelt beside her. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched her tear-streaked face upward. His eyes smoked.
“If I killed my partner, you should know damn well that I’ll kill you and your little munchkin.” He roughly shook her head. “Don’t ever test me again.”
She wept. “We’ve gotta find. . my baby. .”
Leon suddenly looked away from her. With a grunt, he released her hair as if she were an afterthought.
“Sounds like we’ve got company,” he said.
66
As Corey prepared in the car, a series of muffled blasts, like gunfire, issued from inside the home that he had figured for the safe house, removing any lingering doubt about where his family was being held. There were two shots in quick succession, followed shortly thereafter by a third.
Ice spun through his blood. What the hell was going on in there?
He dropped his BlackBerry and the other cell phone on the Oldsmobile’s passenger seat. He had no use for either of them any more, and he wanted to be as light and flexible as possible. He peeled out of his jacket, too.
Then he hooked the sheathed knife to his belt loop, grabbed the flashlight, and opened the door, wincing when it squawked. It was so damned loud he prayed no one heard it. He carefully nudged the door half-shut.
He hurried along the side of the road. As he neared the house, the muddy tire tracks grew more distinct. They looked fresh, as they would have if a vehicle had been traveling in and out of the garage all day.
There was a Palladian window above the front doorway. Although the moon glow could have been fooling him, he thought he saw faint light inside. No light escaped the front windows, however.
He switched on the flashlight. Hooding the beam with his hand, he played it across the bottom of the front windows.
A black bed sheet appeared to be hanging inside, covering the glass.
He cut off the flashlight, heart thudding hard and slow.
There was no easy way to do this. Simone had said Jada was being kept in a separate area. Both Leon and his huge partner would be armed.
But with the recent gunfire, it was anyone’s guess what the situation might be in there. His only advantage was the advantage of surprise. Leon would not be expecting him. If he swept in fast and furious, cutting and slashing, maybe he could take control.
It was a half-baked plan, and made him realize, as Agent Falco had told him, how completely out of his depth he was. The FBI employed entire teams of trained specialists to handle these situations. Here he was, a man alone armed with a knife, and he was about to do something that a reasonable person would have considered suicidal.
But this was his responsibility, his family. He could no more have turned away from this than he could have refused to draw his next breath.