Page 55 of Girl, Bound

‘Like?’

‘I don’t know. Dylan.Joel. Guns N’ Roses.’

‘Yeah, well. Welcometo the jungle.’

Ella opened her mouthto retort, but the door swung open before she could get a word in. And thesight that greeted her was enough to make her wish she'd brought a hazmat suit.

‘What?’ the man at thecrack said.

‘Connor Bixby?’ Ellaasked.

‘Who’s asking?’

‘The FBI. Agent Darkand Agent Ripley. Can we talk?’

Connor Bixby lookedlike he'd crawled out of a dumpster behind the methadone clinic. Greasy hair,scraggly beard, eyes that were way too bright for a man who smelled like adistillery at noon on a Tuesday.

‘No. I’m busy.’

Ripley said, ‘Youdon’t look busy.’

‘Do you want me to getbusy?’ he asked.

Ella eyed him up anddown, taking in the stained wife-beater and ratty sweatpants. ‘Oh, just alittle matter of some missing pharmaceuticals. Seems your sticky fingersmight've gotten you into some hot water, Connor.’

He bristled at thecomment, chest puffing up like a rooster. ‘I don't know what you're talkingabout, lady. And even if I did, you ain't coming in here without a warrant.’

Ella laughed, a harsh,barking sound that held about as much mirth as a tax audit. ‘Warrant? Christ,Bixby, you must watch too cop shows. We're not here to search your apartment.We just want to ask you a few questions.’

She could see thegears turning in his head. A scramble for an exit strategy. His eyes dartedback into the apartment, his weight shifting from foot to foot like aprizefighter waiting for the bell.

Ella reached one handtowards her pistol.

She saw the coiledtension in Bixby's shoulders, the telltale twitch of a man about to dosomething monumentally stupid. But they were two stories up, with nothing butconcrete and metal between them and the ground.

‘Come on, Connor.We’re just here to chat.’

But then Bixbyexploded to life. He was already in motion, body moving on pure instinct.

He shoved past Ella,nearly sending her sprawling, and made a beeline for the stairs.

Ella grabbed the doorframe for support, pulled herself up. She regained her balance and shot intoaction. She sprinted after him, down the corridor, towards the steps thatdescended back to the ground floor. She could hear Ripley behind her, cursingup a storm as she gave chase.

Bixby hit the groundfloor at a dead sprint, his cracked-out Keds slapping against the floor. He wasfast for a tweaker, she'd give him that. But Ella was faster, her legs pumpinglike pistons as she closed the gap. Bixby burst out of the apartment complex,nearly taking the door with him. He broke out into the sunlight with Ella tenfeet behind, then Bixby turned the corner, heading down the side of thebuilding.

She could see the fearin his eyes as he glanced back over his shoulder, could practically smell thepanic rolling off him in waves. He knew he was screwed, knew he'd made thewrong move. But the poor bastard just couldn't help himself.

Ella put on a burst ofspeed, her lungs burning with the effort. She was gaining on him, the distancebetween them shrinking with every stride. Just a few more feet, a few moreseconds.

And then Bixby madehis move, darting into an alleyway with all the grace of a drunken ballerina.Ella cursed under her breath, knowing full well what awaited them in thatnarrow, trash-strewn corridor.

But she didn'thesitate, didn't break stride. She plunged into the alley after him, her senseson high alert.

It was a dead end, thebrick walls looming like a bad omen. Bixby was trapped, nowhere to run. He spunto face her.

‘Stay back,’ hepanted, his hands scrabbling at his waistband. ‘I'm warning you, bitch. I'llgut you.’

Ella smirked. ‘Withwhat, Bixby?’ She reached for her gun but thought better of it. Bullets were alast resort. If she wanted a confession, she needed him alive.

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