There was no rebar here; it was where they’d stopped working tonight.
Gasping for air, he popped his head up and tried to discern where the man was. There. He saw the man stop and backtrack, move around, and double back because his way was blocked. Killian could hear sirens clearly now. The fire department, no doubt. The man stopped and turned toward the sound of the sirens.
No, motherfucker. Come get me. He couldn’t let this guy leave, let him get away. He’d witnessed him kill the other man. He was tracking Bekki. That killer would not leave this site, not if he had anything to say about it.
Killian reached out of the trench and grabbed a three-foot piece of rebar that was stacked by the trench they’d abandoned earlier. He tossed it to the trench across from him. The metal spun the other man and brought him closer.
Killian had no idea how powerful the tranquilizer was, but Duke was a hundred pounds and it had dropped him. At the least, it should slow the fucker down. He carefully reached out of the trench and trailed another length of the metal bar toward him. Two weapons were better than one.
Killian waited as the sirens approached the gate. Even if the firefighters entered the site, there was no way they could see what was happening here several acres away. The man slowly moved through the maze of construction.
Killian drew a deep breath as he waited. He’d only get one shot at this. There would be no time to reload a dart, not with the man so close and unafraid to use his own weapon. Killian waited and listened. The slight shift of gravel, a strike of a heel against concrete. He gauged where the man was based on the sounds he’d learned from a lifetime of building. Carefully, Killian peeked over the dirt embankment.
There. Twenty-five feet away, maybe a little more. He lifted the gun, lined up his shot, and fired. He ducked down, grabbed his rebar, and ran down the trench which would lead to the rebar trench behind the man. He carefully worked his way down closer to where the man was.
Cautiously, he peeked up. The man was on the ground. Killian inched forward, but the guy didn’t move. He climbed out of the trench and carefully moved forward, step by step. Still, the man didn’t move. He inched forward carrying his rebar like a baseball bat.
The man rolled, his weapon in his hand, pointed directly at Killian. Instinct and fear coalesced into action. Killian swung. The weapon fired and Killian dropped to his knees. Searing pain sliced through his side.
Using his right arm as his left held his injured side, he thrust the rebar forward, angling the strike upward. The man’s head cracked back. Killian roared in pain and in anger. He jolted to his feet and swung again, striking the man’s back. Anger poured out in a scream as he connected the iron bar against the man’s shoulder. He rained blow after blow on the form under him.
“Freeze! Police!”
Those words pierced his rage. Killian stood up, dropping the rebar.
“Get on your knees! Put your hands on top of your head!” The barked orders seemed rather stupid. The man wasn’t moving. He felt a hand at the back of his neck as he was shoved to the ground. His hands were wrenched behind him and he was placed face-first into the mud.
Killian groaned as pain sliced through his side. “I own this place.” He could have sworn he yelled the words, but he couldn’t hear them.
He was yanked backward onto his knees as EMTs rushed to Zamparelli. “This one is injured, too.”
The cop pushed Killian down on his ass and he crumpled. He looked up at the cop. “My dog. They tranqed my dog.”
“They?” The cop echoed.
“Him and the dead one. Storage containers. Third row from the right of the trailer.” He groaned and shifted, the pain in his side thudding with the beat of his heart.
“What’s your name?”
“Killian Ganas. I own this construction company and the development.”
The cop squatted down beside him. “Killian Ganas, you have the right to remain silent…” He listened to the man ramble on and told him he understood his rights and waived his right to an attorney.
“What happened?” the cop asked after he acknowledged some coded transmission on his radio.
“They were after my girlfriend, Bekki King. I left her in her father’s office. They didn’t know. They thought she was here. They blew