“I can see why you like him,” Jess shouted. “Cut-the-Gordian-knot type of guy.”
I didn’t answer, focused on assessing the situation as quickly as possible.
The single bare light bulb set in the ceiling illuminated a stark, relatively barren single room. It was a shocking contrast to the clean, comfortable hotel room I’d visited Molly Callendar in a lifetime ago.
The dingy brown couch had more stains on it than a frat house carpet, the fat wide television set practically an antique. The single chair didn’t match the couch and had large rips and tears in the dark fabric as if Jazz had gone to town on it.
It also held a man wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans with a baby in his arms. His mouth hung open, long greasy strands of dark hair stuck to his sweaty face.
Liam scrunched up his little red face and screamed at the top of his tiny lungs.
The middle-aged man glanced at the coffee table. To be specific, he focused in on the pistol lying atop a magazine, the silencer extension on the barrel pointed at the far wall. His grip tightened on the bundle lying on his left arm as he estimated his odds of getting to the weapon before we closed the space between the front door and the table.
I leaped at the same time the killer did, letting out a hunter’s cry.
He lunged for the pistol, swinging the baby around like a sack of potatoes.
I won.
I swept up the pistol and pointed it at the man’s chest. The footlong square coffee table provided a slight barrier between us, stopping my advance.
He stood there and glared at me without any fear.
A tremor ran through my hand as I realized I was most likely holding the weapon that’d killed Molly Callendar. The safety was off on the automatic weapon and I had no doubt there was a round in the chamber, ready to go.
The stranger’s left eye twitched. His right hand shot out to grab Liam around the neck, pressing the thin blue baby blanket into the baby’s skin.
Liam’s cries vanished under the assault.
“One move and he dies,” he barked. “You let us both out of here or I’ll snap the bastard’s neck.” The sausage-like fingers almost covered Liam’s entire face. “I’ll kill him.”
“No you won’t,” Bran said. He lifted his hands and patted the air in a “calm down” move. “You didn’t kill him in the hotel room and you won’t do it now because someone paid you to take him and keep him alive. We want to know who and why.”
“You ain’t cops.” His lips turned up in a sneer.
“No we ain’t,” Bran growled in an almost Felis tone. He tilted his head at me. “Which means she can shoot you without anyone giving a shit.”
I shifted the weapon down toward his belly. “At this range I can gut shoot you without hitting the baby. Slow, agonizing death.” I kept my voice low and steady. “No-win situation here. Let the baby go and we’ll sit down and talk about this before someone gets hurt. Whatever you’re getting paid it’s not enough for this much trouble, is it?”
The baby struggled under the man’s iron grasp. I felt, rather than saw, Jess slide away from us.
The thug shook his head. “You ain’t getting anything from me.” Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “I got nothing to say to you.”
“Who hired you?” Bran took a step ahead of me—not blocking my line of fire but enough to get the punk’s full attention. “Are you holding the kid for ransom? Who’s calling the shots?”
His gaze darted from the pistol in my grip to Bran’s face, back again to the pistol.
Liam squirmed under the iron grip, a halfhearted flailing against his assailant. The tiny arms thrashed from side to side as he struggled for air.
Moisture dripped from the kidnapper’s nose onto the baby-blue blanket.
We were running out of time.
“You’re going to kill the baby,” I snapped. “Kill him and your negotiating chip is gone.”
The baby gave one last shudder, thrashing in his cocoon.
His tiny eyes fluttered one last time and closed.
Chapter Seven
My finger tightened on the trigger. I’d never killed a man before but I considered this to be a damned good reason.
The thug sneered and increased his grip on Liam.
Suddenly his eyes went wide as if a whole SWAT team had somehow materialized around him.
The thug gasped. He looked through me and his lips fluttered.
I spotted Jess behind the kidnapper, her bloody claws already retracting. She pressed her lips into a tight line.
I lowered the pistol. I wouldn’t need it now.
He wavered for a second before letting out a mixture hiccup/cough. Blood drops splattered the blue baby blanket. His fingers trembled against the thin fabric.
The kidnapper arched back, hands dropping away in shock.
He let go of the baby.
The unmoving bundle plummeted toward the floor.
Bran dived forward, right into my line of fire. He pushed the table to one side with a mighty shove and slid on his knees along the bare wooden floor.
His knees smashed into the killer’s shins as he reached for Liam.
The man didn’t move, too busy gurgling for air. He hadn’t stopped looking at me, through me, as if he’d forgotten about the baby.
The baby fell into Bran’s arms. Liam didn’t move, didn’t struggle against the rough treatment.
Nothing.
My heart skipped a beat.
Bran fell back onto the floor, letting out a curse. A second later he rolled upright and bent over the bundle. “I don’t think he’s breathing.” He wrestled the blanket open.
I caught the smell of feces and urine.
The tiny face was pale, too pale.
Bran blew into the tiny button nose, a sharp puff.
A second later Liam gave out a happy gurgle and drew a deep breath. His eyes opened and he looked at Bran, his forehead furrowed with curiosity.
We all exhaled at the same time.
I grabbed the thin T-shirt the punk wore. Blood oozed from one edge of his mouth as he stared at me, his eyes growing duller by the second. His hands fell onto the chair’s arms, fingers gripping the shredded fabric.
“Who paid you? Who paid to have Callendar killed?”
He exhaled once, bloody spittle staining his shirt.
“Our Fath—”
His eyes rolled back in his head as he went limp, drowned in his own blood.
“Fuck,” I murmured, placing the pistol on the table.
“Mind your language. There’s a child present.” Jess nudged the body in the chair before her. “Damned fool.”
I looked at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “Just more paperwork.”
Inside I flinched. Killing humans was one thing Felis tried explicitly to avoid at all costs due to our superior skills. If and when we did it was an abnormality and had to be reported to the Grand Council. I had no doubt they’d accept Jess’s reasoning but it’d placed another weight on the older woman’s shoulders, one she had to carry alone.
I licked my lips, trying to find the words. “Thank you.”
“Better me than you,” Jess murmured.
“Damned fool.” I studied the body. “If he’d listened to me—”
“He was killing the baby and didn’t even notice it. Guy was too wired to listen to anyone, much less the woman holding his gun.” She gave me a sad smile. “Sometimes you can’t talk your way out of situations, kit. Sometimes you got to man up and make the kill.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” I pushed the thug to one side and began searching his pockets, praying he wasn’t a drug addict and I wasn’t about to give myself acupuncture lessons. “But we’ve lost the chance to find out who hired him.”
“I figure that’s obvious enough.” She jerked a thumb at Bran, who had moved onto the couch, cradling Liam. “His dad.”