Page 66 of Edge of Ruin
I watched, paralyzed, as the burly man sliced the ropes near Vivi’s wrists. She winced as he slashed the rope between her ankles.
“Kick the gun to me,” the big guy growled at me.
In the seconds that followed, every detail was printed and burned into my mind. As I stared into Vivi’s eyes, trying to scream through the silent realms of timeless eternity that I loved her. Hoping she’d hear me. Forgive me for being a stupid dick.
Suddenly, she wrenched out of the old guy’s grip, and headbutted the bastard.
The old man screamed and stumbled back. The burly guy swung a savage backhand blow that knocked her sprawling. The old man took a shot at me, and then another. Both shots went wild. The decrepit asshole didn’t have the strength to aim the thing accurately. But he didn’t need to aim well to kill Vivi. Not at that range.
I was in motion already, my boot whipping up to crack into the big guy’s jaw. He reeled backward with a shout. Then the old man scooped the dazed Vivi up, arms locked under her armpits, gun shoved in the hollow of her cheek.
“Deal with him!” he yelled. “Meet me at the rendezvous point!”
The big guy lunged at me with a knife. Part of my brain dealt with weaving and dancing to avoid the blade, while the rest of me watched in brief flashes through my peripheral vision as the old man herded the stumbling Vivi to the driver’s side of the van, and climbed in behind her, jabbing the gun into her ear. I could hear the man’s shrill, scolding voice, yapping unintelligibly.
The van’s engine roared, the lights flicked on. It squealed backward and accelerated out of my line of vision.
Nothing to concentrate on now except not getting cut, and keeping that berserker son of a bitch too busy to get near the guns lying on the floor. I arched back to let a huge boot whoosh through the space where my face would have been, then spun to the side to avoid a knee to the gut. I took an uppercut to the nose that sent me spinning into a rib-crunching whack against the cement-block wall.
Pain and lost breath cost me a precious fraction of a second. The blade whipped down. I jerked to the side. The tip hit cement, bounced, skittered, and slashed the top of my shoulder. My knee jabbed up into my opponent’s balls. He lurched back, bellowing.
We circled each other, breath rasping. The other man lunged, and I saw the movement broken down to infinite increments. Parry with my forearm, spin until I was side to side, seize the knife hand between scissored wrists, torque until the guy screamed, doubling over. The knife clattered to the ground. I applied more pressure, whipped a vicious side kick into the side of his knee, guided the top of his head toward the wall—and swung it hard, like a battering ram.
The asshole flopped to the ground. The crown of his head was wet with blood. There was a dark, bloody smear on the wall. I stared down, breath jerking in and out, every limb trembling. Hard to think, with combat hormones flooding my system.
Sirens wailed, far away. Myra had called the cops. Good, but I could not stay to talk to them. Every second that passed widened the space between me and Vivi.
I touched the guy’s carotid artery. Still alive. I was tempted to kill him, just to have one more player off the board. But I would have to change into a different person to kill an unconscious man. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
The cops could take care of him. I scooped up the guns and leaped over the bulk of the fallen man to jerk open the bathroom door. Edna leaped into my arms, whining. I ran for the truck and tossed the frantic dog into the passenger’s seat.
I burned rubber turning out of the lot, as sirens approached from the opposite direction, and finally fishtailed to a shuddering stop at Dwayne Pritchett’s gas station.
Dwayne jogged forward, his big, ruddy face alarmed. “Jesus, what the fuck? Were you in a car accident?”
I realized abruptly that my nose was streaming blood, all the way down over my chin. My shoulder was bloody as well, from the knife wound I’d taken.
“I’m fine,” I said tersely. “Did you see Vivi’s van?”
“Yeah, I seen it come by here, going hell for leather. Didn’t stop at the sign. Took the turn on two wheels. Big fuckin’ hurry. Did Vivi do that damage to you? Jesus, she must have been pissed as hell. Wadja do to her, for Chrissakes? You want to come in and clean up that?—”
“Which way did she go?” I roared.
Dwayne nodded toward the northbound road. “Thataway.”
I gathered up the shivering dog, pushed his door open, and shoved the animal into Dwayne’s arms. “This is Vivi’s dog. Look after her for me.”
“But ... but I … but you?—”
“Later!” The truck leaped forward, squealing toward the exit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vivi
“Faster!” Haupt shrieked. “Drive faster, you stupid bitch!”
I pushed down on the accelerator. Not much point telling the guy that my decrepit van was already making a valiant effort, and didn’t have any more speed in her. The frame of the vehicle shuddered and groaned as it was.
