He made his way to the Buick and jammed the knife into the right front tire, the one anyone coming out of the side door couldn’t help but see. The car was a real beauty, and he slid a hand over the glossy paint of a fin as he quietly apologized for hurting her. Now that any means of escape was disabled, he hugged the outer wall and slid along it to the back window where he’d seen the cat.
The old house didn’t have air-conditioning, and he was counting on some open windows. Pleased his hunch paid off, he stayed to the side of the screen and listened.
“Fix me some dinner, then we’re taking off before the cops start knocking on doors.”
Fortunada’s voice was close, and Jake flattened against the wall. The cat he’d seen earlier jumped back onto the sill, pressed its face against the screen and meowed. Go away, cat.
“Hope you’re not in a hurry. Wednesday’s fried chicken night,” an older-sounding woman said. “Come on, Mr. Kitty. I’ll fry you up some livers.”
Mr. Kitty was gone in a flash and Jake let out the breath he’d been holding. The woman’s tone had been friendly and not at all fearful. Could she be Fortunada’s mother or sister, a friend maybe?
“Why don’t you just take the car and go? You don’t need me anymore, and I won’t let you hurt Mrs. Watkins.”
Maria’s voice! He chanced leaning his head enough to see inside. She had her back to him, and a rage lit fire to his blood at the way Fortunada was eyeing her breasts. The bastard wasn’t long for this earth.
“Whatcha gonna trade me for leaving her here?”
A lead ball fell down Maria’s throat to her stomach, one she fought to keep from throwing right back up. She recognized that look in Fortunada’s eyes, had seen it too many times on the faces of the men her mother brought home when she hadn’t hid fast enough and they caught sight of her.
Taking a step back, she shook her head. “Don’t even think it. Just take Mrs. Watkins’s car and go.” A predatory smile curved his lips, and she realized she’d made a mistake by showing fear. It excited him, and if she was to survive this, she had to hide her escalating terror.
“I’d rather do this,” he said, grabbing a breast with the speed of a striking viper and squeezing it hard.
Tears burned her eyes from the pain. Maria brought her knee up, but he anticipated it and twisted to her side. The cold barrel of his revolver pressed against her temple, and she went still.
“The old lady said dinner’s gonna take a while. I think we’ll spend the time testing her bed. Start walking.”
“Please, we can’t. You’re my father,” she blurted, desperate to stop him. Some stupid, naive part of her mind had thought he’d lower the gun in surprise. All she got was a laugh.
“Nice try.” He pushed her toward the hallway.
“No, it’s . . . it’s true. That’s why I came to your house that day.”
When the gun flew past her, landing on the floor at the end of the hall, she thought she’d shocked him so much that he’d had some kind of knee-jerk reaction. Then his weight slid down her back and she staggered forward, falling on her knees.
The revolver was just out of reach, but if she could get to it before him . . . A grunt and the sound of a fist hitting flesh stopped her frantic crawl toward the weapon. She craned her neck and looked behind her.
Jake! Oh, God, yes. Jake was here. How that was possible, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Somehow, he’d found her and that was all that mattered. Turning her attention back to the gun, she grabbed it and pushed her back against the wall. Sitting on the floor with the revolver, she watched the two men fight.
Jake would win—she had no doubt—she was prepared to shoot Fortunada if necessary. Fortunada wasn’t going down easy though. He fought back with the cunning of a desperate man. The hallway didn’t give them much room to brawl, but neither seemed to care as they bounced from one wall to the other.
The strangest sight of all, though, was Mrs. Watkins standing several feet behind them, Mr. Kitty draped over one arm and a frying plan held high in the other. The woman’s eyes were positively gleaming, and Maria got the impression that this was the most excitement Mrs. Watkins had had in a long time.
“I’m going to kill you for touching her,” Jake growled and brought his fist down. Blood spurted out of Fortunada’s nose. “And I’m going to do it real slow.”
It was then she understood Jake was playing with him, wanting to drag out hurting Fortunada.