The Isle Of Sin And Shadows - Keri Lake Page 0,164

straight for my pants, wrenching me onto my back so he can unfasten the button.

My body jostles with a hard yank.

I reach for the blade again.

Stretching.

Stretching.

Pants yanked down to my thighs, I swallow back the urge to cry, knowing what he intends. Fingers brushing the hilt, I manage to take hold of my weapon and swipe out. The blade slices across his neck, and he snaps backward, slapping a hand over the wound I’ve made there.

“Ah, fuck!”

I scramble from beneath him and, at his lurch, swipe at his hand that reaches out for me.

“Motherfucker!”

Jumping to my feet, I yank up my pants and take off, back over the bridge.

43

Thierry

Phone pressed to my ear, I steer Luc’s truck up a side street. After the third ring, Brie answers with an uncertain, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Bergeron. I need—”

“Is Céleste with you?”

A flare of alarm rushes through me. “She’s not with you?”

“I dropped her off at the Festival. She was supposed to wait for Luc. She’s not with Luc?” The panic in her voice tells me she’s probably been worried for a while now.

“Where did you drop her off?”

“Main and, uh …. It was Main Street and …” Her lack of memory keeps me one breath away from snapping. “Fifth! Fifth Street! There’s a guy on the corner handing out masks, there.”

The truck tires squeal as I pull a U-turn in the middle of the side street and head back toward the main strip.

“How long ago?”

“About fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty? Oh, God, I shouldn’t have left her! Please find her!”

I don’t even bother to say goodbye before I click out of the call and focus my attention back on the road. The crowd, so thick along the sidewalks, has spilled onto the main street, bringing traffic to a screeching halt. Spying an empty spot along the curb, I park Luc’s truck and hop out into the throng. Everywhere I look, partygoers stumble along, some masked, some not. All of them an irritating roadblock.

I scan the sidewalks and peer down the dark alleys between buildings, looking for her. It’s when I turn the corner and head over the bridge toward the state park that I find Aric hobbling toward his car parked in the adjacent lot there. His eyes widen at my approach, and when he pivots the other way and takes off running toward the woods, I chase after him.

Just as he breaches the line of trees, I see him reach for his sidearm, and I push speed from my legs, tackling him to the ground before he can pull his gun. Once wrangled, he twists onto his back, and that’s when I see the cut across his throat.

Its depth tells me it was inflicted by a knife. She must’ve gotten away. Even so, the sight of it stokes my rage, and I push off of him, aim my gun at his skull, and without giving him so much as a sayonara, asshole, I blow his brain out of his skull.

For now, I leave him bleeding out in the woods and take off after Céleste. The logical direction would be toward the tents off in the distance, where she could hide in the crowd.

Aric’s blood stains my shirt and skin, as I carry on foot, along the canal, eyes peeled for Céleste. Killing a federal agent might’ve been just as dangerous as snuffing out an associate of the cartel, but I couldn’t care less. He forfeited his life the moment he touched her.

A couple minutes down the path, I find my quarry scampering along the boardwalk, her arms crossed over her chest.

Not wanting to call out to her and draw attention, I wait until she turns down one of the alleys between a burger joint and a surf shop, and that’s where I catch her. Taking hold of her arm, I pin her against the wall. A scream flies out of her mouth, but I quickly cap it behind my palm, allowing her a moment to see that it’s me.

“Thierry?” The relief in her eyes hardens when her gaze dips to my collar. “What is that?”

It’s almost humorous that she zeroed in on what I’m guessing is the smudge of lipstick, with all the blood spattered on my shirt.

Ignoring the question, I perform a quick scan that shows no wounds. But blood, yes. Her blood? His blood? It’s hard to tell. “Did he hurt you?”

“Is that lipstick on your collar? From another woman?”

“Please just answer the question. I need to know if you’re hurt