Vladimir glared up at him. “Why would you care? Don’t touch me!”
“I don’t care.” Damon jabbed the needle into the man’s thigh through his clothes, the injection done before Nick could protest. “Nighty-night.”
“What did you give him?” Charlie demanded through clenched teeth.
“Like I said, pain, muscles. Plus a little ketamine.” Damon braced a hand on the man, holding him down in the dirt as he struggled. “What they use to knock out cats before they cut their balls off.”
Vladimir cursed at him, words running together in a mishmash of languages. After a few minutes, his writhing slowed, and stopped. He snored a few times, then took a quieter breath. Damon patted his cheek and stood. “Now we can talk, but it better be fast.”
“Will he be okay?” Brian asked. “He’s not going to die?”
“That depends on his boss,” Damon said. “Who won’t be happy. But I think I can turn this into a real win for us. He can be the one last piece I need to convince the Russians that Wu took out Turov, and that the Kerr siblings were just patsies.”
“How?” Charlie demanded.
“We don’t have time for that.” Damon glanced over his shoulder. “Even at four a.m. someone’s going to come by. Decide now. Say the word and I’ll take him off your hands, and get his car away from your house, too. Otherwise, I’m out of here.”
“Leaving us with a drugged man!” Nick protested. Fucking Damon Kerr!
“Tell them he passed out. Those are all drugs of abuse anyway. Blame them on him.” Damon dusted his gloved hands on his thighs. “Your call.”
Nick opened his mouth, but Brian beat him to it. “I stopped him. He was after me. I tied him up. I get to decide.”
Damon smiled crookedly. “All right then. Who keeps the hot potato? I guarantee you don’t want to turn him loose. He’s the guy who’s been stalking you for a couple weeks, trying to decide if he had the right target. Between Luger chasing him off, and me sweeping your house and car for bugs, he’s had a hard time getting information. Now he knows for sure.”
Brian threw a look at Nick, his eyes wide and dark. Nick had his opinion but Brian was right. He caught the guy. He was the one who’d have to live with the decision. “Your call.”
Brian turned back to Damon. “Take him. But— you promise you won’t kill him? Or, like, neuter him?” The way Brian pressed his legs together was probably unconscious.
“Promise.” Damon shrugged. “I need him alive and not too beat up for the little scenario I’m planning. I’m not responsible for his boss, though.”
Charlie said, “You really think you can get Lori and Brian off the radar?”
“I really do.”
Nick glanced at Brian. “Then let’s get him into your car, quick?” He let his words rise in a question, and waited till Brian nodded to grab the bastard’s legs.
It took only a moment to lift the man’s limp body and transfer him to Damon’s back seat. Damon cut the leash and locked flex-cuffs around the man’s ankles and wrists, despite the broken arm. He propped Vladimir on his good side with the seatbelt around him. Nick took a relieved breath when the door closed, hiding him from sight.
Charlie came over and held out a plastic 7-Eleven sack. “His gun and ammo from Nick’s car. I unloaded it.”
Damon frowned. “Prints?”
“I’m not a fucking amateur.”
“No, you’re not.” Damon took the bag. “Keep taking care of my people and Santa will bring you something.”
“It’s January, and all I want is you a long, long way from here.”
“Planning on it.” Damon turned to Brian. “Try not to catch any more killers or crash any more cars when I’m gone?”
“I miss you.” Brian reached out like he might hug Damon, who dodged and popped a gentle fist against his shoulder.
“Don’t get too soft with the good life.” Damon glared at Nick. “And don’t you lead him into trouble, Nok Nick.” He swung into the driver’s seat, and they moved back to let him pull out. The big sedan growled a soft, powerful note as Damon stepped on the gas. It crested