floor. The candlestick sailed out of his hand, smacked against the far wall and broke into two. A set of familiar dark eyes and an ass-ugly mop of hair moved into his line of sight.
Minyawi.
No…not Minyawi. Someone he knew a whole lot better.
He flipped quickly to his back and managed one lethal blow before a hypodermic needle was thrust into his arm. He swatted at the sharp stab, flicked it away before the syringe was depressed all the way, then heard a chilling voice he remembered all too well echo in his already fuzzy head.
“Thank you, Pete, for bringing her right to me.”
Kat woke with a start. She didn’t know what had pulled her from sleep, but one glance around the dark room and a feeling of dread washed over her.
Pete was gone.
She dropped her feet over the side of the bed, pulled on her T-shirt and jeans and felt a moment of relief when she saw his shoes and shirt in a heap on the floor next to her things.
Okay, he wasn’t gone for good. He’d just gotten up for something. She listened to see if she could hear him, and when she couldn’t, that panic washed over her again.
She reached for the gun in her backpack. The house was too quiet.
She checked the magazine and clicked off the safety, then silently walked to the door. When she got to the top of the stairs, she listened again and hoped she could hear Pete clanging around in the kitchen, rummaging for a midnight snack.
Only there was nothing.
That dread ratcheted up a notch. She took the stairs one at a time, continuing to move like a silent shadow. She hesitated mere steps from the kitchen, surveying the area, holding her breath as she listened for sound from the other side of that closed door.
A loud shrill made her jump. She whipped around, gun held in both hands.
With her heart in her throat, Kat realized it was a cell phone chiming.
She blew out a long breath. Rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead and let out a pathetic laugh.
She was really losing it. That was probably what had woken her. Just a damn cell phone going off somewhere in the house. For all she knew, Pete had probably been in the bathroom when she’d awoken and was now back in bed wondering where she’d gone.
A laugh bubbled through her as she turned for the stairs. The cell phone chimed again, but this time she expected it. She glanced around, curious as to where the thing had been left so she could turn it off.
She walked around the far side of the dining room table. And froze.
A silent scream tore from her throat when she saw Pete lying on his stomach, out cold. His cell phone was on the floor near his head.
“Pete.” She set the gun on the ground and dropped to her knees by his side. Blood ran down his temple and dripped onto his bare shoulder.
She reached quickly for the phone, flipped it open to call 911, and went cold all over when she saw the picture message coming through. It had been sent hours ago by the time stamp, but Pete obviously hadn’t looked at it yet. It read simply:
Pete,
This is the most recent picture INTERPOL has on file for Minyawi.
H
“Oh, God.” Sickness welled in Kat’s stomach as she stared at the image of Sawil Ramirez.
She grabbed the gun and scrambled to her feet to get help. And made it two steps before she was grasped by the hair by a large hand that jerked backward until the air shot out of her lungs.
“It’s about time you showed up, Kat. I’ve been waiting for you for six fucking years.”
Spots shot into Kat’s line of vision. Pain erupted in her skull. She yelped and tried to swat at the hand that held her, but it pulled so hard the room spun. Sawil’s shoulder plowed into the swinging kitchen door, and before she knew what was happening, she was thrown over the granite island and went skidding off the other side.
Pots and pans and utensils went sailing. The gun flew out of her hand and across the room. Kat hit the tile floor on the other side of the island with a thwack that cracked her skull and sent stars firing off behind her eyes. In a daze, she looked up to see Sawil standing over her, but this wasn’t the quiet and friendly man she’d met in