Page 69 of Ice Cold Christmas
Victor glanced over his shoulder, then slowed because the freaking detective was running at him with his gun aimed. What in the hell?
Huffing, puffing, Angus barreled toward him. “You’re not…cop. Stop…giving chase!”
Oh, yeah, screw that.
But when he whirled again, the perp—shit, the perp had vanished.
Victor stilled. You don’t get to escape. Oh, hell, no.
“Where is he?” Angus demanded. “Where did the sonofabitch go?”
They’d lost illumination from the street lamps and had slipped into a dark alley.
“Victor?” Melody’s careful voice. His head whipped toward her.
“Victor, you’re okay?”
No, he was seething with rage, and he damn well should have made certain the punk didn’t escape. But what mattered most right then… “You’re okay.” She was safe. She hadn’t been stabbed.
Melody nodded.
He yanked out his phone. He hit the button for the flashlight and shone it on the ground. And sure enough, the trail was clear for them to see. Blood. Wet, dark drops that have to be blood.
“Stay the hell back,” Angus thundered. “I’ve got this!” He pulled out a flashlight, directed it at the ground, and rushed after the blood drops.
But, no, Victor did not stay the hell back. He did clamp his hand around Melody’s wrist, though. Because he wasn’t about to run off and leave her alone. For all he knew, this was some divide-and-conquer bullshit, and he wasn’t going to let her stay unprotected. Where he went, she went.
They gave chase together, and, up ahead, the alley emptied out into another street. A busier road that he could see just in the distance. Maybe about twenty, thirty feet away. Except…
The blood trail led to a dumpster. It didn’t head toward the street.
“We’ve got you, asshole!” Angus snarled as he paused near the dumpster. “Come out, with your hands up! Now!”
The man in the mask came out, and his hands were up, all right. Up, and holding what looked like a broken computer that he’d hauled from the dumpster. The attacker threw the old tech at Angus and then took off for the alley’s exit.
The computer drove into Angus’s shoulder. He cursed. Tried to get off a shot. Fired?—
The bullet missed the fleeing target.
Snarling, Victor raced forward, still holding tightly to Melody.
“Victor, wait,” she began.
“Stop!” Angus roared.
The perp didn’t stop. He ran out of the alley and straight into the street, even as he looked back. Looked back, not forward.
So he didn’t see the van that rushed forward and slammed right into his body. The thudding impact was loud. Bones snapped. The guy in the black ski mask screamed, a terrified, pain-filled cry that echoed, as he went airborne for a timeless moment. Then his body slammed onto the pavement. The scream stopped.
Shit. Victor let go of Melody. “Stay. Here.”
Her horrified eyes were on the scene. The twisted body of the perp. The blood. Blood that had seemed to go…everywhere.
“Dammit! Dammit!” Angus yanked out his phone. Victor could hear him calling for help.
Victor ran for the road. The attacker had landed about five feet from the van, his body was twisted. Legs broken. One arm outstretched. He still had on the ski mask.
“Move away from him!” Angus shouted. “He could have another weapon!”
