Page 130 of Rastor

Chloe spoke again. "I'll do anything you want. And I mean–" She choked on the last word. "Anything."

"Oh yeah?" Slowly, the guy lowered his gun. "You bet your ass you will."

That's when I barreled into him, slamming him sideways and going for the gun. But the gun wasn't there. Not anymore. His hands were empty. I knew, because his fists were flying, trying to fight me off, even as I slammed him into a marble-top table and knocked over a lamp.

I grabbed his fist and gave it a squeeze. And then I kept on squeezing. It was the same hand that had been holding the gun on Chloe. If I hadmyway, he wouldn’t be doing that to her – or anyone else – ever again. The guy was cursing now, and struggling like a madman to get away.

Yeah, good luck with that.

I slammed his face into the fallen table and twisted his hand until I heard a crunch. Other than that, he made no sound at all, which told me that one way or another, the fight was over.

A split-second later, the room was flooded with light. I turned to see Chloe standing near the light-switch, eyeing the scene with wide, anxious eyes.

The guy was lying in a fallen heap. His hand was twisted, and his face was covered in blood. Was he still alive? Probably.

For now.

I glanced around and spotted the gun, lying a few feet away. Chloe rushed forward to pick it up.

"Wait," I said. "Don't touch it."

She stopped and gave me a questioning look.

"Hang on," I told her, getting to my feet. I looked down at the guy still lying on the floor. That son-of-a-bitch. What the hell was he planning for Chloe? I didn't want to think about it. But whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good.

Unable to stop myself, I turned and gave his lifeless body a vicious kick. The guy didn't even budge. I didn't care. If he eventually woke up, a couple broken ribs would slow him down nicely.

I rushed toward Chloe, and she fell into my arms. I squeezed her tight. Too tight? Maybe. But it's not like she was complaining.

She looked up and whispered. "There's someone else here." She looked toward the back of the house and said, "Toward the kitchen."

I wasn't letting her go. Not yet. I gripped her tighter and said in a low, quiet voice, "There was, but not anymore."

My mind was still churning. Were there only the two guys? Probably. Because if anyone else were here, they'd have come running already.

But I didn't want to take any chances, and I still didn't know about the garage. I had to get Chloe out of here, likenow.

I glanced toward the back of the house. As far as the other guy, I didn't know his condition, and I didn't want to be finding out while Chloe was around.

For all I knew, the guy was dead. If he was, she didn't need to see that. And if he wasn't? Well, then I'd have to see, wouldn’t I? Either way, the clock was ticking.

"Now c'mon," I told her, "we're leaving."

I pulled the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand and stooped down to pick up the gun. I thrust it into my front pocket and reached for Chloe's hand.

"Wait," she said. "My purse."

"Screw the purse," I said, hustling her toward the back of the house, making sure to take a different route than the one I'd taken just a few minutes earlier.

I led her out the back door and kept on going until we reached the tall iron fence that divided our properties. I made a foothold with my hands. "Over the fence," I said. "And don't stop 'til you're inside the house."

She looked down at my hands. "But how will you get over?"

"I'll jump it," I said. "But not right now."

Her voice grew panicked. "Why not?"

"Because I've got to take care of something."