Wind Therapy - A.J. Downey Page 0,82

the shattered glass first, double-timing it up the stairs as Mallory made a noise in my ear somewhere between frightened and desperate, the phone on her end clattering to the floor.

I reached the wooden door on the third floor marked ‘3B’ with its shiny brass plate and lunged at it with my shoulder. The door shuddered in its frame and groaned under the onslaught. Close, one more ought to do it. I squared up and let fly with a booted foot and the doorframe cracked and splintered, the plank flying inward, swinging on its hinges to crack against the drywall behind it.

Tic-Tac followed my breech, sliding through into the apartment and I was right on his six.

He swept through a posh living room with views of the sound and through a doorway that must have been a bedroom. I was right behind him, just in time to see Tic-Tac tee off with his asp, cracking the motherfucker that was on top of Dahlia in the back of his skull, laying him out.

He pitched forward, his hands coming off Dahlia’s throat. I went for her and let Tic-Tac deal with the fucker that’d been choking my best friend out.

“I got you, hold on, baby, I got you.” I helped her up onto her feet and she choked and wobbled on her heels, trying to get air. She was in her underwear, her dress was gone, and I looked around the tousled bed covers for it somewhat frantically.

“You two move the fuck out of the way,” Tic-Tac gritted between his clenched teeth. He was seething, breathing in and out, barely able to contain his rage.

“Don’t kill him,” Dahlia choked out. “You cripple that son of a bitch, though. Break every fucking limb!”

“You don’t call these kinds of shots,” I reminded her tersely. I looked to Tic-Tac who looked to me and I said, “No witnesses.”

Savage glee sparked in his light blue eyes and he took his asp handle in two hands and beat that motherfucker to death. I mean, he just caved that rat bastard’s skull in. I got me and Dahlia both out of the way of cast off from the weapon and shoved her out into the living room, helping her into the ruin of her dress.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“Picked me up after the show at the bar, came back here for some sexy times, he got rough – I wasn’t having any of it. Mav, he stuck me with something, a needle. I barely got my taser out of my purse. Knocked him out cold. I called you.”

“You can always call me,” I reminded her.

“I know,” she said, shaking.

“Now come on.”

“Go!” Tic-Tac called. “I got the rest of her shit.”

“You good to ride?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, wobbling on her heels like a newborn gazelle. I supported her out the door and down the stairs.

“Just a few blocks, until we can get a cage to come get you.”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, fighting the effects of whatever he’d given her and losing now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off.

“Goddamnit Dahlia – whatever happened to being safe?” I demanded.

“I was,” she said feebly as we stepped awkwardly over the bottom part of the door.

“Get her a few blocks out,” I commanded and passed her off to D.T.

He took her and said, “Triangle.”

I nodded. He meant he would post up over near the old historic Triangle Pub near the end of the city’s historical district near the football stadium.

Tic-Tac came down the stairs with a pillowcase full of shit. I nodded. Good man – make it look like a robbery.

“Let’s go,” he said and we got on our bikes. Dump Truck was already away.

“Triangle!” I called over the roar and with a nod, Tic-Tac fell in beside me. I pressed the button on my Bluetooth and got it to ask me who I wanted to call.

There was only one person I knew that could handle this shit, who would do what needed doing simply because I needed her to. Who wouldn’t ask questions and who I could, without a doubt, rely on.

“Zaychik,” I said into the receiver when she answered the line.

“Is she okay?” she asked first, and I knew I was making the right call.

“Yeah, but I need a favor from you.”

“Anything,” she said, and I knew she meant it.

“You know how to drive?”

“Do I know how? Yes. Can I? If I had a car. Do I have my license? No.”

“Get dressed, in the kitchen by the