Page 9 of A Murderous Crow
The message I got wasnotwhat I had expected.
He’s going to kill me – 911 – 911! 14 W. Duffy
I started the car, and the engine roared, the shifter moving smoothly, as I worked the pedals, tires screaming against the drive as I pulled around, fishtailing and damn near running my ass end into the gate on the way out.
Synister would be pissed about the rubber I laid on the drive, but I would have it fixed later.
I tore ass around the back of the Manse and screamed around the block and down Whitaker. She was lucky. She was barely two blocks away, and I knew the 14 W. Duffy property.I turned down West Park Lane and went up the back of the houses, turning into the back lot.
As soon as I hit the pavement after flinging open my door, I could hear the faint shouting and screaming coming from up and away inside the old Victorian. I didn’t hesitate. The back door leading into the kitchen was locked, so I busted out the pane of glass by the doorknob with my elbow.
I reached through carefully and threw back the lock, letting myself in.
I could hear loud crashing, as though someone was trying to take down a door, a man screaming in something that wasn’t English, but wasn’t a language I recognized. I went for the stairs, lunging up them, two and three at a time.
My gun was in the back of my waistband, but I didn’t bother with it yet. I didn’t know what I was dealing with.
I found a blond man beating his shoulder into a closed and locked door on the third floor, and could hear muffled and hysterical crying from the other side.
“Hey!” I barked. He turned, sweat-soaked, disheveled, and with blood dripping down one cheek.
There was a woman’s shoe lying forlorn on the floor between us.
“Back away from that door slowly.”
He rushed me, and I clocked him in a smooth, controlled motion – all muscle memory, and one hundred percent reflex and training.
He went down, skidded to the top of the stairs along the runner, and came to a halt, half lying down them, his legs on the landing, his waist over the top step.
He didn’t move.
I did. I glided up to the door, listened to the heaving breaths of the frightened prey behind it, and took a deep breath.
I knocked.
“Savannah?”
“Who – who’s there?” she demanded. “Is it the police?”
I bit back a laugh.
“Open the door, Savannah,” I ordered.
There was a dragging sound, some scuffling, a little shuffle, and thenclick!
The door opened inward just a crack, and a wild blue eye looked up at me, her mascara smeared in a muddy track down to her chin, her hair a wild and tangled mane, half-hiding the other side of her face.
“Corbett?”she squeaked, and she sounded horrified.
I cocked my head. “You texted that you were in trouble. I was less than two blocks away. You want I should leave and let you call the police?” I held a thumb over my shoulder, and she thrust open the door and nearly took me out, hiding her face in my chest, her arms wrapping around me like steel bands as she clung to me like I was her last known hope in the world.
The scent of peaches and adrenaline tickled my nose, and before I could catch myself, my arms went around her.
“Easy,” I ordered, but she was sobbing brokenly and blubbering what, I couldn’t understand.
“He tried to get me, he tried to hurt me, thank you! You came out of nowhere, but thank—” She shrieked, and reflexively, with one arm around her, the other went to the small of my back, as I turned us to the side and emptied three shots into the lunatic charging us.
She held onto me, screaming. I swore and turned to her and shook her a little more violently than I intended, but her mouth snapped shut, and my snarled “Stop it, right now!” seemed to get through to her.
