What’s New Pussycat(62)
Pivoting on her paws, she peered down the hallway, past the blue-gray clouds of smoke mixed with wet snow and debris, to see Escobar.
Holding a person.
As the smoke began to clear, so did the big picture.
Escobar stalked down the long hallway, his bright shirt now covered in ash, his face smug as he dangled her mother from his fist like a pair of dice from the rearview mirror. “So, what’s new Pussycat?” he taunted on a gurgling chuckle.
Score one for all hell breaking loose.
* * *
Derrick hauled hunks of sheetrock off Max’s back, wrapping a hand around his wrist and hauling him up.
Max huffed, clearing his throat of the sheetrock dust with a hacking cough. He wiped his forearm over his mouth and asked, “Where’s Dianna?”
Derrick’s head swiveled around as he listened and sniffed the air. “Up. Martine’s upstairs! You okay?”
“Go! I’m right behind you!” Max urged, following his brother, taking the steps three at a time.
“Martine!” Derrick bellowed into the long hallway, squinting to see past the smoke and snow just as everything went from total chaos to eerily still.
He heard her then. Heard her as clear as day. Heard the plea in her voice. Heard the fear, the helpless request she made. “Please, Escobar! Just take me. Let my mother go!”
Fuck. The warlock had Dianna and Martine.
Max pulled up short behind him.
“He’s got Dianna and Martine,” Derrick whispered, barely spitting the words out. “I’ll kill the fuck.”
Max grabbed his arm with iron-like fingers. “Stop,” he demanded, harsh and low. “Let’s think before we go rushing in.”
Think? He couldn’t think. There was no thinking about this. He’d think about it after he’d ripped Escobar’s body in fucking half. “We don’t have time to think, Max!”
Max’s grip grew firmer, more insistent. “Derrick, this Escobar is a warlock. The man can cast spells. We have what to counteract that? Brute strength? Stop and take a deep breath. If we die, we’re no good to Martine and her mother.”
“Escobar!” Martine screeched, her voice hoarse, ragged. “Put her down and I swear I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll go wherever you want me to—no questions asked. Please!”
Derrick stiffened, his body rigid with the need to kill this asshole Escobar. It was the fear in her voice ripping him to shreds, turning him inside out, and he’d do whatever he had to in order to make it stop. The feral half of him, the hunter, needed this man’s blood.
“Do you hear her? She’s petrified. I can’t take it, Max! I have to kill this motherfucker.”
Max held up a hand, his eyes so grim, Derrick almost couldn’t look into them. “I know. I get it. She’s in danger. You want to rip this bastard apart, but let’s at least have some sort of plan, okay? Let’s steamroll the bastard. It’s the only thing I can think to do at this point. I’ll distract, you take his ass out.”
Derrick shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. You get the fuck out of here now. The hell I’m going back home to face JC if something happens to you. Get out!”
“That’s just not gonna happen, brother. We’re all in or we’re nothing. Don’t waste time trying to convince me to leave without you. The fuck I’m letting you take this on yourself. The only thing I ask is that you wait for the right moment to ambush. Now shut up and let’s get up there.” Max squeezed his shoulder to soften his angry words.
“Please, please, please, Escobar,” Martine cried out. “Let her go!”
Derrick looked to Max. “It’s now or never,” he murmured, just before he took the last flight of steps leading to Martine.
* * *
Somehow, in the madness, she’d managed to shift. Whatever had done it—bone-deep fear, anxiety—she now stood in the middle of Escobar’s hallway, stark naked.
But she didn’t care. He had her mother. Her mother, who dangled from his fist, swaying back and forth as he edged closer to his apartment door, stepping over the next-door neighbor who was lying in a heap.
Escobar didn’t look like much to most. Why he chose to keep his true form had always made her curious with all the cloaking spells he had at his disposal, but he had the strength of ten men, and he’d use it to make a point.
Dianna flashed Martine signals with her eyes. Signals she didn’t understand—couldn’t make out. Her heart throbbed hard in her chest, threatening to spill right out onto the floor.
She’d forgotten how small her mother was, how fragile she looked. Dianna didn’t fight Escobar, didn’t move a muscle. Instead, she stared straight at Martine—right up until the moment Escobar disappeared inside his apartment with her in his clutches.