Page 4 of Savage

“Go.”

One of the dealers started to move, but the masked man’s growl stopped him in his tracks.

“Not you.” He cocked his head slightly. “Go home, Scout. Run.”

I didn’t even have time to wonder why he was calling me Scout, because it was clear that shit was about to pop off and if I didn’t want to be on the wrong end of a gun again, I needed to get gone.

I backed away, almost tripping over myself in my haste to leave, but I didn’t dare turn my back on any of them. Not yet.

A deep, reverberating snarl echoed through the alley seconds before the masked man made his move, charging the group with a series of maneuvers that incapacitated each of them, one by one. Somehow the hood on his trench coat didn’t move, staying perfectly in place to conceal his identity as he brought the men to their knees. Their cries didn’t last long before being cut off with a swiftness, and I couldn’t tell if they’d been knocked out temporarily or…well, something else.

As I reached the end of the alley, I watched the masked man grip the final thug standing by the neck, and this time he was facing in my direction so I could see the moonlight gleaming off his mask. In a move so quick I couldn’t tell how he did it, he snapped his wrist to the right and the dealer fell like a rag doll at his feet.

My breath caught in my throat as the hooded man looked in my direction. I couldn’t see his eyes, but it felt like they were still somehow holding me in a trance.

You need to get out of here. Run, like he said.

The sound of the van’s engine starting broke our stare. He took off toward the driver, and my feet finally became unglued from the pavement.

I turned away and began to run, the pain in my knee an afterthought as I focused on getting somewhere safe.

Queens wasn’t my neck of the woods, and in my rush to get away, I hadn’t retraced my steps. It was probably better that way. I didn’t need anyone following me—if anyone was still alive to do so.

Shivers racked my body, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me with shaking hands. There was a subway stop up ahead, and I ran toward it, looking behind me every few steps until I reached the safety of the stairs leading underground.

Ha.Safety. It wasn’t like the men I’d followed tonight had any respect for rules, and if anyonewasstill following me, I wouldn’t put it past them to end me anywhere at anytime.

No. That’s not happening. He took care of them. No one is following you.

I continued looking over my shoulder anyway, even as I pushed through the turnstile and followed the signs to head back into Manhattan.

Shit, maybe I should’ve stayed close by for when the cops came. I’d gotten a few photos of the deal going down before losing my balance trying to get a clearer shot and knocking into the dumpster hard enough to cause a scene. That was evidence they could use. Or maybe I should go to the police department in Manhattan instead and say it hadn’t been safe for me to stay.

And then what? They’d ask me how I got away and I tell them some masked vigilante saved me? They’d think I’d lost my mind and watched too many superhero movies.

Hell, maybe I had.

I ran an ice-cold hand over my face as the train came screaming to a stop, and then boarded a car that wasn’t completely empty. For some reason, being alone in a train car seemed like a bad idea.

People had warned me about coming to New York, that I wasn’t cut out for the big city, but I’d brushed that aside, believing they were imparting their own fears on me. After tonight, however, I was starting to think there might be some truth to it.

The last thing I’d expected was to get caught up in an action scene that belonged in aJohn Wickfilm. But maybe that was my own fault, following some seriously bad guys. That was my job, though, to track down the important stories, and this one was particularly important—and apparently particularly dangerous.

I let out a sigh and collapsed onto a seat, trying to block out the fear as the train headed back to my side of the city, and where I thought my mind would be filled with terror over what I’d just been through, all I could seem to think about was—who was the man behind the mask?

3

LACHLAN

TONIGHT HADN’T BEEN the stay-out-of-sight surveillance I’d intended, that was for damn sure. But when had I ever been a play-by-the-rules kind of guy? It would’ve been more inconvenient to stand back and watch some innocent get his head blown off than it had been to get involved. Half of those idiots were cracked out on their own supply anyway, so incapacitating them didn’t give me any of the enjoyment I’d usually get from a challenge.

Good thing I’d gotten rid of Alessio’s voice in my ear. If I hadn’t, he’d be giving me shit the whole trip back to Libertine headquarters, and then I’d end up crushing the earpiece with my boot. Yet again.

I stared out the back passenger window of the car taking me back into Manhattan and wondered where the Boy Scout had run off to. His lack of street smarts screamed that he wasn’t from here, or he’d know better than to hide behind a dumpster to tail drug dealers.

Which raised the question, why was he there in the first place?

No, it was none of my business. I’d met my quota on helping someone out, and whatever happened to him now wasn’t anyof my concern. Boy Scout would have to learn to make better decisions or at least be a bit stealthier about them.

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