Day Three
July 23, 1952
Wednesday Morning
The vehicle from River’s rearview mirror skidded to a stop next to him. A man in a black T-shirt with a rough, no-nonsense face got out. He flicked a butt to the ground and headed over. It wasn’t until he came around the front end that River saw his right hand.
In it was a gun.
It came up and pointed into his eyes.
“Do you know who I am?”
River studied him.
He was cold.
He was capable.
A scar ran down his forehead, across the right eye, down the cheek and over the upper lip. He wasn’t nearly as big as River but was still a good size, six-one or more. His body belonged to a street cat, sinewy and hard. The cuffs of his T were rolled up, flaunting taut arms built for pull-ups. A red rose was tattooed on his left forearm. Sticking in the rose was a black dagger. He looked like he’d been kicked around and had learned how to kick back ten times harder.
River didn’t know him.
He didn’t want to know him.
“Where’s January?”
“You mean the little tattoo bitch?” The man tilted his head towards the trunk. “In there.”
“Let me see her.”
“She’s a crappy lay. You can do better.”
River fought down thunder in his blood.
“I want to see her.”
The man pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and tossed them to River. “Sure, put these on first, behind your back.”
River hesitated.
The man hardened his face.
“Do it or things are going to get real ugly real fast.”
River’s chest tightened.
He’d been stupid to stop. He should have aborted. He should have set a trap. He should have done anything except what he did.
“Do it I said!”
River pictured the cuffs on his wrists. He’d be totally beaten at that point. He’d be defenseless. He’d be a mouse in the tiger cage.
The man twisted his face, pointed the barrel of the gun at the trunk and cocked the trigger.
“You have three seconds. Then she gets some air holes.”
River swallowed.
It could be a fake. January might not even be in there. River didn’t know that for sure though.
He snapped a cuff on one wrist.
It was cold as death.
“Behind your back.”
River exhaled and then complied.
He was cuffed.
Everything in the world was instantly different.
The man smiled.
“There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it? Now we can get down to the business we came here for. Where’s Alexa Blank?”
“I’ll take you to her.”
“Damn right you will.”
“First let January go.”
“That’s good, a sense of humor. I like that.”
“I’m serious,” River said.
The man whipped the weapon, so fast that it caught the side of River’s head in spite of his pull back. Rage exploded inside his skull.
He’d kill the little bastard.
He’d kick him to death.
“There’s a lot more of that if you want it,” the man said. “Take me to Alexa Blank.”
“Screw you.”
The man opened the trunk. Inside was a woman, tightly hogtied with multiple wraps of rope. Her mouth was gagged. Her eyes were open and flicked with life but had so much fear in them that they were hardly recognizable as January’s. The man put the gun to her forehead and looked at River.
“I’m done being nice, asshole.”