Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kat’s belly lurched as the killer secured the lock on the knob then slid a knife from a leather sheath on his belt.

“It’s too late. You’ve ruined everything.” The blade was long and sharp and shiny as he raised it above his shoulder, ranting louder, “Because of you, bitch, I have to start all over again. Do you have any idea what that means?” Spittle flew from his mouth. His eyes radiated madness.

You’re not the only one who’s mad. She gritted her teeth. It can’t end this way. I won’t let it. Although how she’d get out of this, she didn’t know.

He tightened his grip on the ebony handle, raising the knife higher. “God will cleanse your soul. He will put you on the righteous path, saving you from your sins. He will set your soul free. I am His servant.”

On top of everything else, he really was out of his fucking mind. Sorry, Mother. Swearing—even to herself—just seemed like the right thing to do at the moment. Besides, if she was about to die, it wouldn’t really matter anyway.

Frantically, she searched the room again, but nothing had changed. No deadly weapons had miraculously materialized since the first time she’d checked. With every step closer he took, she crab-walked backward. Angus lunged for his leg, latching on the way he’d done to Remy. Only this wasn’t playtime.

The killer’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the puppy. More spittle flew from his lips then he kicked Angus, sending him tumbling over and over. The puppy hit the wall with a thump and lay still.

“No!” she cried and crawled to Angus’s side. Her heart dropped as she touched his limp, unconscious body. Oh god no. Poor Angus.

“You bastard!” she screamed, balling her hands into fists. Fury, the likes of which she’d never known, erupted inside her. For the first time in her life, she wanted to hurt someone. Physically hurt them.

Kat lunged for the fire extinguisher. The tank was probably empty, but it was all she had. She aimed the nozzle at his face then squeezed the trigger. Thick white spray splattered his face, completely obscuring his eyes, mouth, and nose.

The knife fell to the floor, clattering on the concrete. He sputtered, dragging in wheezing breaths and wiping the foamy chemical from his eyes.

She lunged for the knife but he grabbed her wrist, giving a vicious twist as he picked up the knife in his other hand. Pain shot up her arm to her shoulder, and she screamed.

A dog barked. Remy.

The doorknob jiggled then went silent. Heavy pounding rattled the door.

“No one can save you but me,” the killer snarled, although there was a sense of peace and acceptance in his eyes. He raised his arm again—the one holding the knife. Her heart hammered, and she gasped for air. “Our Father, God, who art in heaven…”

The doorknob rattled again, quieter this time. She tightened her muscles, preparing to ram her knee into his groin when he shoved her roughly backward, slamming her head against the concrete wall.

Pain wracked her skull. Her vision clouded, but not so much that she couldn’t see him advancing on her.

“All hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done.”

She gulped and stared into a set of soulless eyes. I’m not ready to die.

Dayne, please. Hurry.

Then she screamed.

…

Dayne dropped the credit card he’d used to open the locked door and yanked his Glock from the holster. Kat’s scream echoed inside, and his heart nearly stopped beating.

He turned the knob, ramming his shoulder against the thick metal door. It wouldn’t open. He re-holstered, using all his weight on the door. Finally, it creaked open and crashed inward against the concrete wall.

Mauser snarled, releasing Kat then lunging at Dayne. Remy leaped, latching onto Mauser’s forearm. The knife fell to the floor.

Dayne rammed his fist into the guy’s face. Bones cracked—Mauser’s.

The man went down and when he tried to rise, Dayne pummeled his face again and again, holding him up by the shirt so he couldn’t fall back to the floor.

“Dayne! Dayne!”

He jerked his head to the sound of Kat’s voice. Was she hurt? Still gripping Mauser’s bloody shirt, he searched her face and body for injuries, seeing none. Then he looked at Mauser, whose bloody, mashed-in face was nearly unrecognizable. He released the guy’s shirt. The back of Mauser’s head hit the floor with a solid whack.

Outside, footsteps pounded. Uniformed police, guns drawn, crowded into the bunker.

“FBI.” Dayne adjusted his position to reveal the badge on his belt so the responding officers wouldn’t mistakenly think he was the perp and unload their guns on him.

“You good here?” one of the cops asked, warily eying Mauser’s bloody, still form.

“Yeah,” he answered. “We’re good.” All things considered. His hands shook, his body still so amped up on pure rage he could barely think straight.

Another cop called on the radio for an ambulance while others began securing the scene.

Kat crawled to the other side of the room and gathered Angus in her arms. At first, the pup didn’t move. Remy padded to Kat and nudged Angus with her snout, licking the puppy’s face.

“Please wake up, Angus. Wake up!” Tears streamed down her face.

She’s alive.

Dayne took his first easy breath in hours, although it was an unsteady one, to be sure. He wanted to haul her into his arms but stopped himself. Touching her again would be too painful and would only rekindle something that needed to burn out.

You gotta let her go, man.

The puppy’s head moved, and he began wriggling in Kat’s arms. Her laugh came out on a sob. That’s when he noticed it. The trickle of blood oozing slowly from a cut on her neck. That motherfucker hurt her.

He clamped his jaw. It was all he could do not to prop Mauser up and beat the shit out of him all over again.

Kneeling, he touched his fingers to Kat’s neck to inspect the wound. Touching her again warred with his resolve, but he had to stay strong. For both of them. With no small effort, he forced his emotions back into that deep, dark hole he’d stashed them in. “Are you alright?” He knew he wasn’t because he was choking on his own heart.

When she lifted her head, he feasted on her beautiful eyes. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

He cleared his throat then tugged a packet of tissues from his thigh pocket, gently pressing one of them against her neck. Luckily, the cut wasn’t as deep as he’d initially worried it was. “Hold this here and keep a light pressure on it.”

When she did, their fingers brushed and the instinct—no, need—to hold her, kiss her, and tell her he’d never leave her again became unbearable.

“Sir?” Two EMTs crowded in. “Can you give us some room to work? We need to check her out.” Without waiting, one of them knelt and began inspecting Kat’s wound, effectively pushing him away.

They were right. Her medical condition trumped his need to stick close. Still…

“Dayne!” Paulson rushed into the bunker, his eyes bugging as he looked at Mauser. “Holy shit. Guess I missed all the action. How ’bout filling me in? My chief wants an update.”

With a hand that still shook, Dayne touched Kat’s cheek. “You’re safe now.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with gratitude and the same sadness eating him alive.

“Make sure she’s okay,” he said to one of the cops then stood and pointed to Mauser. “I don’t care how bloody he is. Cuff him.” He waited until Mauser was securely restrained with handcuffs.

It about killed him not to look at Kat one last time. Somehow, he managed. His heart slowed to a dull thud, and he walked out the door.