That’s completely nuts, but also impressive. I haven’t been properly trained in interrogation techniques. Everything I know I learned from movies, so here goes.
I reach under him and grab his balls. He howls.
“Tell me everything you know, or your sac is the first thing to go.”
He thrashes around, and I have to kick him in the ribs a few times again.
Voices sound above the ridgeline. It’s too dark, and the brush is too thick to see who it is. I crouch low, wishing the asshole here could breathe a little more quietly.
“Did you see where she went?”
“This way,” Johnny answers.
Footsteps skid against pebbles, and it sounds as if they’re going right by me. I have to make a split-second decision to give my position away. I don’t know who else is out there, but if Johnny and Magnum are having a conversation, it must be fine.
I hope.
“Johnny! Mag!”
Footsteps crunch in the gravel. “Did you hear that?”
“Mag,” I call out.
“Over here!” Johnny yells.
The asshole coughs, and I move the blade back to his neck. I eye the shrub line and then glance back to the guy, darting between the two threats. Finally, a figure steps through the branches at the spot where I came down. Two shadows descend the embankment. The one in the back aims a gun at dipshit’s head.
“Kyla,” Johnny says, feet working over the uneven terrain as he makes his way over. He assesses me, pulling his shirt off and handing it to me when he sees what I’m left wearing. He gently takes the knife from my hand, and I pull the shirt over my head, covering my body again and ripping the already shredded shirt away from me.
“Did he...?” Johnny asks, scanning me for evidence.
I shake my head. “Not sure he could have. Seems like a pussy to me.”
The guy does this weird sort of cough-laugh that’s more gurgle than anything else. “Bitch.”
Mag cocks the gun. “I’d watch what you say if I were you.”
“He told me he’d rather die than tell me who he’s working for.”
Johnny bends, grabbing my scraps of shirt before placing his knee into the small of my attacker’s back. While Magnum holds him at gunpoint, Johnny ties his hands together behind his back, and then kicks him over until he rolls onto his back. “Recognize him?”
Mag peers down, brow cinching. “No.”
“Me either,” Johnny huffs. “We’ve got to blindfold this asshole and get to the safe house.”
Safe house? This is news. I thought the tower was the safe house. An impenetrable fortress. What ever happened to that idea?
“I’ll get us a car,” Mag says. He lifts his shirt, putting his gun in the back of his waistband. He walks by, gaze sliding over me. He, too, searches for injuries. Other than some cuts and scrapes, my right arm is a little sore. I’m pretty sure I used it to catch some of my fall when I came down the ravine.
Johnny beckons me forward, and I move toward him. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and I place my palm on his chest. His skin is cool to the touch.
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, and he kisses my temple. “Looks like he got the worst of it.”
The guy is keeping his mouth shut. Smart move.
I find myself looking at him, searching for clues as if I’ll be able to find out who he’s working with. He has to know he’s pretty well fucked right now. Johnny has him, and he’s not getting away.
A short honk comes from the opposite side of the bank. Shortly after, Mag skids down the ravine, and then he and Johnny wrench the guy up, dragging him under the arms up the slope. I scramble to the top. Dirt and mud cling to my hands. Idling on the side of the road is a small car. When he and Johnny get to the top of the ravine, Mag takes his shirt off and wraps it around the attacker’s face, covering his eyes. Looking at a shirtless Magnum and Johnny, I would think I was at some sort of Chippendale show, but the bleeding asshole takes away the effect of that. I knew I hated this guy. I hope this isn’t the only chance I’ll get to see Magnum and Johnny shirtless in the same room at the same time because if it is, I’m going to kill this guy for ruining it.
“I’ll get in the back with him.” Mag drags the guy to the backdoor, shoving