Page 86 of Eyes in the Shadows

He punches twice, and I dodge, avoiding the contact as I fall into a kneel to grab another knife from my ankle holster. The next attack is a kick, aiming for my chest and meant to take advantage of my lower position, but I catch his legwith an uppercut, landing the knife in the back of his knee. He cries out, but I jump up and slam into his chest with my shoulder, sending him flying backwards. He collapses onto the ground, and I jerk the knife from his knee, grip one hand around his mouth to keep him quiet and shove the blade into his eye socket for quick brain death.

I waste no more time. I have already lost precious moments and more men could show up at any time. My right hand is slippery with blood, but that is the nice thing about black. I wipe my it as best I can on my dark shirt, then place it in my pocket so no one will see the red staining as I walk back to the car.

Fuck. Two bodies. I cannot leave them; this area is open enough that someone is bound to walk by within the next hour or so. And I have no way to know who will find them first—if I could guarantee it was Rossi, that would be another story. But there is enough blood spilled to make anyone who comes across it call the police, even without bodies.

I need to cover my ass and I do not have time to scrub a crime scene. There is nothing else to do. We have to take the bodies with us.

I force a slow pace as I walk back towards my car. I picked a poorly lit area to park on purpose, but Eleanor’s wide eyes as she takes in the sight of me tell me that I need to stick to the shadows. “Get in,” I say, unlocking and sliding into the driver’s side.

She slams her door and grabs for the belt.

“Wait, I need your help with something.” James may kill me for this if it ends up scarring her, but it will be much faster with her assistance.

I drive at a reasonable speed around to where the bodies are, and pull up next to them. She glances out the window and gasps. “Are they—”

“Dead, yes. They were coming to kill me, and probably you. I need your help to lift them into the trunk. Can you do this?”

Her face screws up like she is going to cry, but she does not. She just swallows and nods.

I hope she does not throw up. All it will do is leave more DNA at the crime scene.

“Grab his feet,” I say, pointing to the closer body with two of my knives in his throat. I open the door of the trunk and lean down to slide my arms under hispits. “Lift with your legs,” I instruct, then am surprised when she manages before I finish the sentence.

Together, we get him into the trunk, rolling him forward to make more room, and move to the other. Her face is red with exertion, and her expression is grave, but she makes no complaints. When the second body is in the car, I close the trunk.

When she takes a few steps past the passenger door, I open my mouth to warn her to hold her stomach, but watch her stoop and pick something up off the ground. She turns, holding it up from the barrel.

Son of a goat. I am almost as surprised at myself as I am at her—I forgot the gun.

She does have good sense. I nod to her. “Good, bring it.”

With so much blood pumping and adrenaline from the fight, it is difficult to keep to the speed limit. But with two bodies in the back of the vehicle and blood drying to a burnt red color on my hand, I will not risk anything. I set the cruise control to 42 mph.

When I am satisfied she is not hyperventilating, I pull out my cell and dial Wesley. He answers before the first ring finishes. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to find and wipe all footage at the restaurant and parking lot. James and I were never here.”

“Time frame?” I can already hear typing in the background.

“When did you arrive?” I ask Eleanor. She is staring, unblinking at her legs, and then I notice the smears of red against her pale skin.

“Eleanor,” I say, trying to be gentle.

She looks up, dazed.

“When did you arrive at the restaurant?”

“Um… our reservation was… 9 PM. I think we got here just before that.” She swallows hard, audibly.

I do not need to repeat it back to Wesley—he has excellent hearing. “She’s all right?” he asks.

I glance at her. “Probably. Has James checked in?”

“Not yet. Dimitri… what the bloody hell happened?”

Isigh. “Rossi was there.”

“Fuuuuck.”

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