Don't Look (Pike, Wisconsin #1) - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,124

in the bodies I displayed for your pleasure.” Parker leaped forward, stabbing the knife toward the center of Kir’s chest.

Kir jumped to the side, longing to smash his fist into the center of Parker’s face. It was only the knowledge that the man was deliberately taunting him that allowed Kir to ruthlessly crush his blast of anger. Emotions were the enemy right now. He had to think with crystal clarity if he was going to survive until help arrived.

“No one took pleasure in your sick displays.” Kir curled his lips into a sneer, edging back toward the tunnel. “And it doesn’t take any skill to drug vulnerable women, or to throw a helpless old man down the stairs.”

“You would know Rudolf wasn’t harmless if you ever bothered to visit him,” Parker countered, twirling the knife with the ease of a man who’d practiced that particular skill. Then, with the speed of a striking snake, he slashed toward Kir’s face. “What kind of son abandons his father when he needs him the most?”

Kir dropped to his hands and knees, hearing the whistle of the knife just above his head. Shit. He was going to have to get out of there before he was turned into a shish kebab.

But how?

He might be able to overpower Parker and wrench the knife from his fingers, but the man was stronger than Kir had expected. He wasn’t sure he could get the upper hand before the blade was sticking out of his heart.

What he needed was a distraction so he could make a run for it.

It wasn’t until a sharp shard of cement cut into his palm that he was hit with inspiration. Clenching his teeth, Kir tightened his fingers around the broken piece of cement, then twisting his torso, he threw it directly at the overhead light.

The fluorescent bulbs burst in a shower of glass, plunging the room into a deep, impenetrable darkness. Exactly what Kir needed.

Remaining on his hands and knees, he crawled away from Parker. Immediately he heard the scrape of the man’s boots as he moved to block his escape to the tunnel. He’d already expected that. He intended to lead Parker toward the main entrance before circling back. It was his only hope of escape.

“You can’t hide forever,” Parker called out, frustration in his voice.

“And you didn’t answer my question,” Kir answered in a loud voice. He needed the man to follow him.

Parker paused, as if considering whether he was being led into a trap. Then at last he stepped toward Kir.

“Because he broke the rules of the game,” the man said.

Kir shuffled backward, the rough cement bruising his knees. “The game?”

“Yes, the one we’d been playing since he shot my father.”

“How did he break the rules?”

“This is my personal lair.” Without warning, Parker kicked out, managing to connect with Kir’s ribs. “This is my Fortress of Solitude. Just like Superman had. This is the place I come to be alone with my dark fantasies and plan my revenge.”

Kir grunted, rolling to the side a mere second before the knife scraped against the cement just inches from his hand. Refusing to consider how close he’d come to having the blade in his back, Kir instead concentrated on Parker’s words. He could easily see the man down here, hiding like a spider as he brooded on the past and scratched down his list of . . .

“The list,” Kir muttered, surging to his feet and scurrying backward. His cheek was on fire and he suspected at least one rib was cracked, but he needed to be ready to run toward the tunnel.

“Do you have it? I was afraid . . .” Parker made an impatient sound. “Where is it?”

“My father sent it to me,” Kir smoothly lied. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to die because of the stupid thing.

Parker’s footsteps crunched toward Kir, the blade whistling through the air. “Liar.”

“Did my father know you were the killer?” Kir demanded, leaping to the side to avoid the man’s determined slashing.

“I assumed he did. One day I noticed that my list was missing. I checked the video from my cameras, and I discovered your father had intruded into my lair days before and pawed through my papers.”

Kir silently reconstructed what had happened. His father must have been fishing and noticed something at the air base that stirred his curiosity enough to enter and find the list. No doubt he’d gone to the sheriff, who ignored his warnings, and then