Seconds to Live(60)

“Oh, you want to play with knives?” Mac pulled his father’s KA-BAR from its sheath on his ankle. The KA-BAR was more than a knife. It was a jungle survival tool that could chop wood, slash through foliage, and still maintain an edge sharp enough to slice ripe tomatoes. That flimsy, folding blade was a butter knife in comparison.

Mac lifted his gaze from the weapon to the man’s face and got his first good look at him. The man was just a kid.

He was beyond thin, nearly gaunt. The sallowness of his skin and the hollows in his cheeks marked a lifetime of poor nutrition. Silver hoops pierced his ears, nose, and one eyebrow. Shaggy jet-black hair hung in points across his forehead like a Japanese anime character. From behind the thick fringe, insolence shone from stubborn dark eyes. His gaze dropped to the KA-BAR. He licked his lips and shifted his weight, uncertainty crossing his face.

“Drop the knife. I don’t want to kill you.”

“Can’t do that.” The kid adjusted his grip.

“Who told you to follow me?” Mac asked. “Freddie?”

The kid didn’t respond, but Mac could see the affirmation in the surprise on his face.

“I know Freddie a hell of a lot better than you,” Mac said.

Silver rings swayed as the kid shook his head. “Then you know I can’t cross him.”

Mac sighed. This kid could be the Christmas Past version of him. But damn it, he didn’t want to hurt him.

With a stubborn sneer, the kid lunged. The awkwardness of the movement suggested he hadn’t trained with Freddie very long.

Mac stepped aside, out of the path of the knife, and brought the hilt of the KA-BAR down on the kid’s wrist. The knife fell to the dirt.

“Ow.” The kid clutched his wrist and turned to run away.

In one motion, Mac kicked the switchblade away and grabbed the kid by the neck of his shirt. He hauled him against the side of the SUV. Pinning him, Mac searched his pockets for weapons but found only a bag of weed and a cell phone. “What’s your name?”

“Rabbit.”

“OK, Rabbit, here’s what’s going to happen.” Mac guided the kid toward his bike. “You’re going to leave town.”

The kid spun and jabbed a finger at Mac’s nose. “If you know Freddie, you know why I can’t do that.”

Mac had been close with Freddie’s son Rafe in high school. At the time, Mac imagined that they’d folded him into their family right when he’d felt very much alone. But the reality was a far cry from his teenage impression. Freddie used Mac for all sorts of duties.

“What were you going to do if you caught up with me?” Mac asked, staring pointedly at the kid’s finger.

Rabbit dropped his hand. “I wasn’t supposed to catch you. Just watch you.”

This was just the kind of task Freddie used to assign to Mac. He watched people and buildings, delivered messages, and ran back and forth between Freddie’s camps. Freddie’s attention hadn’t been free. Mac had paid a high price for that “friendship,” and it was still costing him.

“How long have you been working for him?”

The kid blew long bangs out of his eyes. “Couple of weeks.”

“I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Get out now, kid, while you still can.” Mac released the teen. “Once Freddie sets his hook, you’re on the line forever.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

The kid’s simple statement hit home.

“Parents?”

The kid didn’t hesitate. “Dad’s in jail. Mom’s dead.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Could have passed for much younger. That was what a life of chronic malnutrition did to a growing body. Mac might have lacked emotional support, but he’d always had a roof over his head and food in his belly.

“So you aged out of foster care.” What the hell was Mac going to do with him? “What about other family?”

“Got an aunt in Jersey I haven’t seen in ten years.”

Mac held up the kid’s cell phone. “Did Freddie give you this?”

Rabbit nodded.

Mac took the battery and memory card and ground them both under the heel of his boot. Then he tossed the phone into the woods and handed the kid his helmet. “We both know the only way you’re going to get away from Freddie is to leave town. I’ll give you two options: jail or Jersey?”

Rabbit took the helmet.

“Good choice.” Mac straddled his bike. The kid climbed on the back. The train station was a twenty-minute ride. They used Mac’s smartphone to look up Rabbit’s aunt’s address. Inside the small lobby, Mac studied the schedule and route maps, then he bought a ticket and handed it to Rabbit. “This will take you to Penn Station. From there, you’ll have to grab a local train into Jersey.” He handed the kid fifty dollars for food and sat with him until the train arrived. Mac didn’t leave until the train pulled out of the station. Then he climbed back on his bike and headed back to Scarlet Falls.