Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(118)
Author: Abigail Roux

Henninger tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, intrigued by the challenge. “Why did you come back?” he asked finally, the amusement and enjoyment clear in his voice. “Why did you come back with that ass**le for a partner and the very real probability that you would die? Grady, he came back for revenge. But you? Why didn’t you just stay away? Stay away and drink and drug yourself to a quiet death?”

Zane jerked backward in apparent surprise, slamming his useless arm against the door. He yelped and grabbed for his elbow, his good hand sliding under the sling to support it. He made a conscious decision to let the pain show clearly on his face. He was going to need his strength for other things …

he hoped.

Weighing his options as Henninger watched in lurid amusement, Zane tried to decide what to say to get the most reaction. Enough reaction. He drew a breath. “I love him.”

At that, Henninger stopped short in surprise. Then he began to chuckle. “Love him?” he echoed with a gleeful laugh. “Oh, that is rich! No wonder he looked so crushed when I told him it was his fault you were going to die.”

The chilling edge of Henninger’s words cut through him, and Zane drew another breath. “I love him,” he repeated, voice stronger.

Henninger laughed harder in the face of Zane’s conviction. Within a heartbeat’s time, Zane snapped his left arm out away from him, sending the slim stiletto from its sheath hurtling toward the killer with enough speed that Henninger couldn’t dodge it. The knife buried deep into his upper chest, close to the shoulder of his gun arm.

Crying out in anger and surprise, Henninger jerked to one side as the knife hit, his gun firing uselessly off to the side, giving Zane just enough time to pull out his own gun and fire. The shot hit him in the gut—the perfect wound since Zane wanted to interrogate him as he died a slow, painful death.

Henninger staggered back, looking down at the burgeoning stain of blood in shock. Slowly his knees gave out, and he began to sink to the floor.

Arm shaking, Zane kept the gun trained on him as he stalked over and kicked the weapon out of Henninger’s hand, sending it sliding to wedge under the couch. He crouched down in front of him, took hold of the hilt of the knife sticking from Henninger’s shoulder, and twisted it hard.

Henninger cried out in shock and pain and struck out, hitting Zane’s injured hip with as much force as a fatally wounded man could muster. Zane gritted his teeth as his entire leg exploded into fire, but he kept twisting.

“Where is he?” he ground out. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll call you an ambulance.”

The blood drained from Henninger’s face as the pain took him over.

“You’re so smart,” he slurred as he struggled weakly. “Figure it out,” he rasped.

“Talk or you can bleed out here.”

Henninger merely laughed at him hoarsely. Growling, Zane drew back his fist and hit Henninger in the gut, close to the gunshot wound.

The edges of Henninger’s vision darkened as he gurgled and gasped, but when the pain receded he managed another laugh. “He said you’d kill me,” he murmured as blood began to dribble out of the corner of his mouth.

“He said you’d make it hurt,” he told Zane tauntingly.

Anger and terror building equally, Zane stood up and yanked the knife out of Henninger’s shoulder, ignoring the agonized cry of pain. He lifted the gun and pushed it to the killer’s forehead, staring down at the man who knelt before him. “He’s right. Where is he?”

Henninger closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew he would be handed the death penalty if they found Grady alive. He also knew, deep down, that Garrett was going to kill him even if he did tell him where Grady was.

Garrett was just that kind of guy. Grady had too much honor to do it, but Garrett would pull the trigger in a heartbeat. He probably should have taken Garrett out first, now that he thought of it.

It was too late now, considering there was also the surprising factor of the fact that he had been gut shot and was going to die a slow, painful death if Garrett didn’t do it fast. He preferred fast. It wouldn’t be difficult to get Garrett angry and make him lose his temper, and then … sweet oblivion.

Henninger’s lips twitched in a slow, amused smile. “You’ve thought about what happens when I die, haven’t you?” he asked in a weak, pained voice. He would win either way, even in death. “No one will believe you.

You’ll become Suspect Number One without Grady to back you up,” he said with a quiet confidence. “How will you live with knowing that it wasn’t love that made you so desperate to find him?” he asked as he opened his black eyes. “How will you remain sober?” he asked with a disdainful sneer.

“Knowing it’s only self-preservation that’s making you so desperate?”

Zane’s face went very still as his emotions settled into solid certainty, momentarily blocking out the pain. He used the gun barrel to nudge Henninger’s chin up so he could see his eyes, and he put the gun back to the other man’s forehead. Then he smiled coldly.

Henninger’s eyes flickered open, filled with a sudden doubt that quickly faded back into the depths. Out of them all, Garrett had turned out to be the biggest problem for him; like a chameleon who couldn’t decide on his color. He had been predictable at first, but then had begun to change to the point that Henninger couldn’t decide what to do with him. Even now, Henninger wasn’t sure what to do with him. As Garrett looked down at him, Henninger could feel, for the first time, the possibility of defeat creeping in on him.

Zane stood and drew a steady breath to speak. “Luckily, you don’t have to worry about that,” he said softly, then he pulled the trigger.

Henninger’s body jerked and thumped to the floor. Gathering himself, Zane went over to the window to search for the signal blocker. Finally, he found it and yanked the cord out of it, then grabbed the phone out of Ross’s limp hand and hit buttons with his thumb as he swayed dangerously. He sank to his knees as his entire right side throbbed and burned viciously. The call was answered immediately. Zane gave the codes for officers down and perpetrator down, and then the location to the best of his knowledge before tossing the phone onto the coffee table, still open so it could be traced.

Painfully, he pushed himself to his knees and crawled to check Ross for a pulse. Grimacing when he found none, Zane shifted awkwardly and moved to Sears. She was gone, too. He hung his head, an agonized whimper escaping. He looked back at the murderer’s body. No need to check a pulse there. The feeling of grim satisfaction gave him the strength to grab for the book he’d left in the armchair. The answer was in there, somewhere. He felt sure Henninger had thought of Ty as another victim, not just someone in the way. Sitting there sprawled on the floor, he started paging through it again, shaking as he prayed it would give him some clue.