Parker lifted his arm, the knife reflecting the overhead light. “It’s time for screaming.”
There was an odd sense of unreality to the moment. As if Kir had somehow strayed into a cheesy horror flick. The gloomy, abandoned air base. The damsel in distress. The ruthless villain with a knife clutched in his hand. The bumbling hero attempting a rescue mission . . .
Swallowing a curse, he cleared his head. Parker had plunged into the dark side. The time to move was now.
Coiling his muscles, Kir leaped toward the man’s back, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Run, Lynne.”
He slammed into the man, taking them both to the ground. Luckily, Kir landed on top. Parker released a growl that sounded like a rabid animal as he struggled to turn over. Behind him, Kir heard footsteps as Lynne rushed to stand next to them.
“No, I’m not leaving you,” she panted.
“Go.” Kir switched on the flashlight in his hand, then with an awkward twist of his body, he tossed it toward the opening he’d come through. He didn’t want Lynne going out the main exit. Not when Parker might have laid booby traps to keep her from escaping. “Follow the tunnel,” he told her. “It leads out of the building.”
“No.”
Kir used his weight advantage to keep the man pinned to the ground. He didn’t miss the glint of the knife that was still clutched in Parker’s hand. If he didn’t keep him contained, all sorts of bad things were going to happen.
“We need help,” Kir gritted, his muscles strained to the max. Who the hell would have suspected the smoothly sophisticated Parker Bowen would be as strong as an ox? Maybe it was a serial killer thing. You’d have to be buff to haul around the bodies. He shook away the inane thoughts, sending Lynne a pleading glance. “Your truck is running in the parking lot. Take it to town and find someone—”
“My truck?” she interrupted, her eyes widening. “It’s here?”
“Yes, it’s in the parking lot.” Kir grunted as Parker managed to elbow him in the ribs. “Now go.”
Astonishingly, Lynne turned to run across the wide space with adrenaline-fueled speed. In less than a minute she’d disappeared from view, swallowed by the darkness. Kir breathed a sigh of relief. He’d assumed he’d have to plead for her to go, but now he could concentrate fully on the man squirming beneath him.
“You idiot,” Parker rasped, managing to get enough space to swing his arm backward.
Kir jerked back his head as the knife threatened to plunge into his eye. The tip of the blade sliced through the flesh of his cheek. Instantly he felt the ooze of blood flowing down his face. It was intensely hot against his chilled skin.
Distracted by the pain, Kir was shoved aside as Parker scrambled to his feet. The man glanced toward the tunnel where Lynne had disappeared, clearly debating whether to try and stop her.
With a surge of desperation, Kir jumped to his feet and stepped directly in front of the man. Parker was going to have to go through him first.
As if accepting that he would have to deal with Kir before he could track down Lynne, Parker sent him a vicious glare. “Just like your dad,” he ground out. “Poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“Is that why you killed him?” Kir demanded, glancing around the cement floor. The place had once been an active air base. There should be something lying around to use as a weapon.
He shuddered as he caught sight of the dark stains on the broken cement. Was that blood? With an effort he forced himself to ignore the gruesome splotches and continued his search for something that could help him fight off the lunatic.
Nothing.
Parker waved his arm from side to side, circling Kir as if looking for the perfect place to strike. “Very good. I wondered if anyone would ever figure out what happened to Rudolf,” he drawled, flashing a smile that was all white teeth and aggression. Like a wolf. “There’s a beauty in working in the shadows and I have perfected the art of invisibility. But every artist desires his creations to be properly admired.”
Kir’s gut clenched with fury. It’d been difficult when he thought his father had died in an accident. It was brutally hard to accept that he’d been murdered by this worthless piece of scum. “You think you’re an artist?”
“Of course, it might not be everyone’s taste, but you have to admit there’s a drama