Page 95 of Deathtoll
Kate shoved the flat end of the nail file between the door and doorjamb, swiping down, slipping, then swiping down harder.
When the metal tongue gave, she could have kissed the damn door.
She opened it with trembling fingers, only an inch, then waited, listened. The outside was silent.
She widened the gap until she could see what was on the other side. A corrugated metal ceiling soared high above. Shelving lined the walls. Equipment Kate couldn’t identify littered the cement floor—carpentry tools?
“I think we’re in a warehouse.” She waited and watched. Nothing moved. “I don’t think he’s here.”
She stepped forward, gripping her hammer, into the large space, about sixty feet by a hundred. Emma came up behind her, the massive wrench in hand, at the ready. But Asael didn’t pop out from behind any of the shelves stacked with old boxes that hadNowak’s Antiquesprinted on them.
“I know where we are,” Kate whispered. “The Broslin Industrial Park.”
Then they were far enough into the warehouse so they could see the bay door to the right, the roll-up kind, the white van that had brought them there parked in front of it on the inside.
They ran to the van, Emma reaching it first. “No key.”
“Come on.” Kate hurried to the metal door and tried to yank it up, but it seemed to be padlocked from the outside.
“Over there.” Emma took off toward the man door at the far end of the building, with the red EXIT sign above it. “Quick, before he comes back.”
Let it be unlocked, let it be unlocked, let it be unlocked, Kate silently chanted as she ran.
They were just a dozen feet from the door when it swung open.
The second of surprise that crossed Asael’s face didn’t slow him down. He stepped inside without breaking his stride and closed the door behind him, his eyes growing cold, then colder.
Kate and Emma raised their weapons. They lunged to rush him together, screaming like a couple of banshees, but he had his gun out before they were halfway there.
And they froze, neither willing to risk that the other one might get hit.
“Drop those toys,” he snapped. “I’m not going to miss. This is what I do for a living.”
Emma’s wrench clattered to the ground a second before Kate’s hammer.
Asael reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small black container, then tossed it to Emma. “Open it.”
Kate watched as the contents were revealed: a single syringe filled with a colorless liquid.
“You push half of that into your sister’s arm. Now.”
Emma threw it back on the ground. “Like hell I will.”
“It’s a sedative. Either you do it, or I’m putting a bullet in your sister’s head. And then I’ll put one in yours.” Asael aimed his gun between Kate’s eyes. “One. Two.”
Emma pressed her lips together and stared him down.
Kate picked up the syringe and jammed the needle into her own arm, through her shirt. Pushed in some, pulled back a little and pushed another batch into the gap between her shirt and her arm, the liquid trickling down her skin.
Then she turned to Emma. “Give me your arm. Dead later is better than dead now.”
She repeated the procedure, half the drug injected, half wasted.
Asael stepped closer and pressed the barrel of his gun against Emma’s temple. “Now you two get into the van.”
Chapter Thirty
Murph
