eyes. The gun shook in the thug’s hand. He fired again. And again. The second time, the gun exploded—and took Skids’s hand with it.
Skids howled. He didn’t sound at all like a wolf.
The stranger pointed at me. “I need him.” The disgust edging his tone indicated that whatever this guy wanted, it wouldn’t be in my best interests. “Tell your master that Gavyn Donatti is mine. He is not to harm him.”
Outright terror struck when my name left the stranger’s lips. “How the fuck—”
“Be silent, thief.” The stranger whirled to face me, eyes flashing pure hatred. “Unbelievably stupid . . . if I had no need of you, I would kill you myself.”
Car doors slammed in rapid sequence. I stared past my bulletproof savior and saw the last thug dive into the backseat. The engine revved. The vehicle lurched back, executed a rapid single-point turn, and peeled away. I watched them go, too shocked to react.
I should have taken the trunk.
CHAPTER 2
Okay. Who the hell are you, and why aren’t you dead?”
The stranger ignored my demand. Not surprising. I would’ve ignored me, if I could take a few .45 slugs to the chest and stand there telling the guy who shot me to knock it off.
“On your feet,” he said. “Take me wherever you live, so we can finish this quickly.”
“Fine.” I bit back a kiss-my-ass comeback. Whatever this psycho wanted to get over with, I wanted it done, too. Maybe he’d go away.
And maybe Trevor would call me up right now, apologize for the inconvenience, and send me a dozen roses and a bottle of bubbly.
I stood and caught a breath. At six-two, I’m no slouch, but I had to look up to the stranger towering over me. Hate-filled eyes glared at me. An unnatural shade of green-flecked gold, they were rounder than they should have been and ringed with black that looked like eyeliner on both upper and lower lids. The stranger’s shaggy brown hair boasted occasional streaks of white, black, or gray. Made him look like a refugee from aneighties glam-rock band. He wore no shirt beneath the coat. Only an open vest and two ragged, oozing bullet wounds.
“What are you staring at?” the stranger snapped.
“Maybe I asked the wrong questions.
What
the hell are you?”
“I am furious. Now take me to your home.”
“Sure. Follow me.” I headed back into the garage. Time for a reality check. If this guy expected to rip off what I’d lifted for Trevor, he was in for a disappointing haul. Robbing me for his trouble wouldn’t line his pockets much, either. He’d get more out of a McDonald’s cash register. But if he really wanted my ancient Ford junker, it was all his.
The stranger hesitated and followed me inside. “What are you doing? You cannot live in this building.”
“No, I don’t.” I stopped behind my thug-tossed car. “Right there. Home sweet home. Only I think I’ve just been evicted.”
“You live in your car.”
“Not anymore. Trevor bugged it, and I . . . misplaced my scanner, so I can’t find the chip.”
“Why, you idiotic, incompetent—” The stranger pressed his lips over whatever he’d been ready to say. “This is ridiculous. Why did it have to be you? How could you possibly . . . you are a thief. Not even a
good
thief.”
“Hey. I’m an excellent thief.” I had the distinct feeling the stranger was talking to himself, but I had to defend my honor—such as it was. “Just not very lucky.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed. “Do you plan to continue your larcenous career, or are you actually going to do something with your life at some point?”
What was with the insults? The guy had told Skids he needed me. Maybe he really thought he did. I decided to try a different approach and propped myself casually against the car,as if I wasn’t afraid for my life. “I’m not answering any more of your questions until you start answering mine.”
“I am not interested in humoring you, thief.”
“Okay. I guess we’re through, then.”
Skids howled. He didn’t sound at all like a wolf.
The stranger pointed at me. “I need him.” The disgust edging his tone indicated that whatever this guy wanted, it wouldn’t be in my best interests. “Tell your master that Gavyn Donatti is mine. He is not to harm him.”
Outright terror struck when my name left the stranger’s lips. “How the fuck—”
“Be silent, thief.” The stranger whirled to face me, eyes flashing pure hatred. “Unbelievably stupid . . . if I had no need of you, I would kill you myself.”
Car doors slammed in rapid sequence. I stared past my bulletproof savior and saw the last thug dive into the backseat. The engine revved. The vehicle lurched back, executed a rapid single-point turn, and peeled away. I watched them go, too shocked to react.
I should have taken the trunk.
CHAPTER 2
Okay. Who the hell are you, and why aren’t you dead?”
The stranger ignored my demand. Not surprising. I would’ve ignored me, if I could take a few .45 slugs to the chest and stand there telling the guy who shot me to knock it off.
“On your feet,” he said. “Take me wherever you live, so we can finish this quickly.”
“Fine.” I bit back a kiss-my-ass comeback. Whatever this psycho wanted to get over with, I wanted it done, too. Maybe he’d go away.
And maybe Trevor would call me up right now, apologize for the inconvenience, and send me a dozen roses and a bottle of bubbly.
I stood and caught a breath. At six-two, I’m no slouch, but I had to look up to the stranger towering over me. Hate-filled eyes glared at me. An unnatural shade of green-flecked gold, they were rounder than they should have been and ringed with black that looked like eyeliner on both upper and lower lids. The stranger’s shaggy brown hair boasted occasional streaks of white, black, or gray. Made him look like a refugee from aneighties glam-rock band. He wore no shirt beneath the coat. Only an open vest and two ragged, oozing bullet wounds.
“What are you staring at?” the stranger snapped.
“Maybe I asked the wrong questions.
What
the hell are you?”
“I am furious. Now take me to your home.”
“Sure. Follow me.” I headed back into the garage. Time for a reality check. If this guy expected to rip off what I’d lifted for Trevor, he was in for a disappointing haul. Robbing me for his trouble wouldn’t line his pockets much, either. He’d get more out of a McDonald’s cash register. But if he really wanted my ancient Ford junker, it was all his.
The stranger hesitated and followed me inside. “What are you doing? You cannot live in this building.”
“No, I don’t.” I stopped behind my thug-tossed car. “Right there. Home sweet home. Only I think I’ve just been evicted.”
“You live in your car.”
“Not anymore. Trevor bugged it, and I . . . misplaced my scanner, so I can’t find the chip.”
“Why, you idiotic, incompetent—” The stranger pressed his lips over whatever he’d been ready to say. “This is ridiculous. Why did it have to be you? How could you possibly . . . you are a thief. Not even a
good
thief.”
“Hey. I’m an excellent thief.” I had the distinct feeling the stranger was talking to himself, but I had to defend my honor—such as it was. “Just not very lucky.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed. “Do you plan to continue your larcenous career, or are you actually going to do something with your life at some point?”
What was with the insults? The guy had told Skids he needed me. Maybe he really thought he did. I decided to try a different approach and propped myself casually against the car,as if I wasn’t afraid for my life. “I’m not answering any more of your questions until you start answering mine.”
“I am not interested in humoring you, thief.”
“Okay. I guess we’re through, then.”
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