Chapter 6 #2
Did the dumbass not get that there was a bar right on the corner that was frequented by cops and Feds? It was her hangout place when she wanted to go and blow off some steam with her friends. She’d been slowly and deliberately leading her stalker straight to that place. The better to surround him.
Well, once she was done with him, anyway.
“My eyes are on you,” Malik told her. “I can see you now. You…and him.”
Ah, steadfast Malik. She did adore her quiet, intense Fed buddy. The man didn’t say much, but he had a core of pure courage. You could always count on Malik. He was very much the true-blue type, much like their boss, Grayson Stone. Defending justice. Protecting innocents.
Following the law.
Malik didn’t bend it occasionally the way she did.
The way she was about to do again.
“Hang back a bit,” she told Malik. “I want a Q&A session with him.”
“You want a what?”
She wanted a chance to grill the prick. But—
“I think he’s making a move,” Malik suddenly groused. “Coming on your left, watch out. Watch—”
She spun around, one hand on the phone, the other clutching her mace. Sure enough, the jerk was running hard and fast at her. He also had a knife gripped in his hand.
Someone was a one-trick pony.
She sprayed her mace, aiming right for his eyes, and he screamed. That scream was loud and desperate, and, instinctively, he dropped the knife as he moved to cover his eyes.
“FBI agent, you asshole,” she snarled at him. “You don’t stalk and attack an FBI agent unless you are looking for a world of pain.”
He blinked over and over as his eyes streamed. The street lamp glowed over him as his lips twisted into a snarl. With a shout, he barreled right at her. He was way bigger than she was. Nearly twice her size, and his bear-like hands grabbed for Agnes.
She stepped to the side. Those teary eyes of his weren’t going to provide him with the best vision. Maybe that was why he didn’t see her leg slide out in a quick glide. Her gliding foot hooked him, and he went crashing down on the pavement before her.
Before he could leap to his feet, she was on him. Agnes shoved her phone into her pocket, and she put her gun to the back of his head. “Freeze.” Then in case he’d somehow missed this ever-so-important point of… “FBI Agent. You just tried to stab an FBI agent!”
Malik would be coming in, despite her polite request for him to hang back a bit. Not like Mr. True Blue would hang back when she’d nearly been stabbed. The Fed and cop hangout was about twenty yards away. She was about to be swarmed as “help” burst out of that bar. But first…
“Asshole, who sent you after me?” Agnes demanded. Like she didn’t know a targeted attack when one came stalking through the dark after her.
His hands slapped onto the pavement. “Cass!”
Her heart just stopped. Pain knifed through her. No way, no way could Cass have done that to her. She’d profiled him. She’d been so sure that he was the one she needed. That she was—
“That prick is gonna pay!” A vow from her would-be attacker.
Her gun pressed harder against him as she tried to make sense of his shout. He was saying Cass had paid him to kill her? No, that could not—
“He’ll pay for fucking me up!”
Oh, wait. Her breath left in a relieved rush.
“He’ll pay because I’ll kill his girlfriend!”
His girlfriend? “Uh, I think you have the wrong idea,” she began. How did one tactfully explain to an attacker that he’d just gone after a one-night stand and not some emotionally involved and invested girlfriend? “Cass won’t give two shits about what happens to me.”
The guy heaved up. His hands had pushed hard against the pavement, and he levered onto his knees. She eased the gun back an inch or two because it wasn’t like she wanted to accidentally shoot him in the head.
Or…not so accidentally do it.
Nope, not me. I’m a good FBI agent.
Even though the jerk had been sneaking up to stab her in the back. Such a dick move.
Footsteps thundered nearby. “Agnes!” Malik shouted.
Right. The cavalry was there. Good guys, at full attention.
“Turn around,” Agnes ordered the perp. “Slowly. And keep your hands up every second.”
Slowly, he turned. He also rose to his feet. Towered over her. As if she’d be intimidated by a guy with constant tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping into his bushy beard.
Malik stopped a few feet away. He had his gun out and aimed. “You good?” he demanded of Agnes.
Not really, she wasn’t. And sometimes, she did get tired of pretending that she was. When I get really tired, I like to go out and have hot hookups with MC leaders.
Nope. Not multiple MC leaders. Just with one.
Cass.
But that would be far too much info for poor Malik, so she simply replied, “Absolutely. I’m good. Always good.”
A phone began to ring.
Some cops wandered out of the hangout bar. They weren’t wearing uniforms, but she could always spot a cop from a mile away. Detectives, with loose coats and wrinkled pants. They stiffened when they saw the scene unfolding, then began to rush toward them.
The phone kept ringing. It was coming from the assailant in front of her.
Curious…a call right after he’d been slicing at her with his knife.
A knife that was still just a few feet away.
“I can’t help but wonder, is that someone calling to confirm the hit?
To confirm that little old me is as dead as can be? ”
The phone rang again.
Agnes waved toward the perp. “Why don’t you answer that call?”
“You do it, bitch!” he snarled. “You answer it!”
Oh, well, if he was going to give her permission, then she definitely would. “Keep your gun on him, would you, Malik?” As if she had to ask, though. Malik never lowered his guard.
She closed in. She plucked the phone from the pocket of the biker’s battered jacket.
She swiped her finger over the screen. Turned it on speaker so they could all hear the conversation.
“I’m sorry,” she began, voice friendly and warm, “but the would-be killer you’re trying to contact is unavailable at the moment… ”
“Agnes?”
She blinked.
“Agnes, is that fucking you?” Cass demanded.
“Uh, yes. It’s me. Hi.” Oh, he was growly. She’d missed that growly voice.
“You’re in danger.” A snarl.
She surveyed the scene. Lots of cops. Her partner at the ready.
The perp with his hands up and his knife no longer heading for her.
Hmm. She should really frisk him now to make sure there were no other weapons on him.
She’d bet the guy had other weapons. “I’m kinda busy right now. How about we talk later?”
“He wants to kill you.”
“Already tried. No worries. I stopped him.” How had Cass gotten the number for her attacker?
“I’m coming to you,” Cass said. Flat. Hard. “On my way.”
Nope. He probably did not want to do that. Not with all the police around. “This is not really your scene—”
He hung up. Incredibly rude. She shrugged.
But she realized the perp was watching her way too closely. “Weakness,” he whispered. Then he smiled.
She wasn’t afraid of much in this world. But that smile…that one word…A shiver skated down her spine.
Her gaze darted over the jerk who loved to slice with his knife.
A knife was her least favorite weapon of choice.
Mostly because she’d never, ever be able to forget what it felt like to have a blade plunging into her again and again.
Her gaze went to the big hands that were still up in the air.
The sleeves of his shirt and jacket had fallen down, and she could just make out a tattoo swirling around the perp’s right wrist.
Her breath caught. She stepped closer to him.
A snake tattoo. Black ink. Intricate scales on the snake. And…two heads. She was staring at a two-headed, snarling cobra. Both heads showed razor sharp fangs ready to bite. The tattoo was clearly visible beneath the glow of the street light.
“See something you like?” the bastard mocked.
Her grip tightened on her gun. She held his phone in her left hand. The gun in her right. “Where’d you get that tattoo?”
He laughed.
She stared harder at the tattoo. The faint lines. The details on the snake. The tail that disappeared into the sleeve of his jacket. Not quite the same, not exactly as she remembered. A bit larger, actually. The two-headed snake from her nightmares had been smaller, closer to her attacker’s wrist.
Not the same tattoo. But close, so close.
A knife slashing down. Screams. Blood.
A two-headed snake with fangs bared, black eyes staring at me…
She put the gun to the perp’s forehead. “Where did you get the fucking tattoo?”
He wasn’t laughing any longer.
He also wasn’t speaking.
“Uh, Agnes.” Malik touched her shoulder. “I’ve got him. Put the gun down.”
Her whole body was shaking.
A knife slashing down. The blade going into me again and again. Blood…
“I’ve got him,” Malik said again.
Her breath heaved out.
“Agnes,” Malik’s voice sharpened.
She lowered her gun.