The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (26 page)

But Anton intended on killing him. A couple of jabs to the throat and the man would succumb to his injuries rather quickly.

While he waited, fantasies flashed through his mind. Was there a way to kill the man and place him over the girl’s body? The story could work.

Anton had let the girl inside the house to find safety from a man who was chasing her. Anton was reluctant at first, but the girl looked like his daughter. It made sense. When he set her up in the guest bedroom and left to get some sleep, someone broke in. By the time Anton made it to the guest bedroom, the man had smothered the girl to death with Anton’s pillow.

Without thinking rationally, Anton stabbed the man repeatedly in self-defense. He was sorry he took someone’s life and would have to live with that knowledge. What jury would convict him on such a defense? DNA, fingerprints, nothing would work against him because it was his house. Of course he had touched the pillow. At one point he had touched everything in his house at least once.

So he waited for the man to show himself.

Then he would slice the man’s throat open and call emergency services. He would be an emotional wreck and when it was all over, he would plead for Clara’s return.

And life could go back to the way it was, minus the indiscretions in Aarhus. Since Damien was in jail, Anton would have to let that fun go for a while. He would wait until things settled down, then see what happened.

Sweat dripped off his chin. The knife vibrated in his grip. He waited, the house silent, a dead girl in his guest room.

The soft sound of someone moving around somewhere in the house doubled his heartbeat. The man was inside. This was the deciding moment. Without the intruder’s death, explaining the dead girl was a hell of a lot more difficult and the man at the door earlier seemed to be quite certain he had her. A man like that would remain persistent. So persistent that he would break in to help the girl.

Anton could only wish.

More shuffling down the hall.

Anton pushed off the counter. He held the knife in front of him as he started out of the kitchen. He was a concerned home owner and someone had broken in. A telephone call to the police could wait. The immediate danger needed to be dealt with first.

The door on the left was the bathroom, which faced the front of the house. The small window was intact. No one there.

Something bumped the wall, followed by the sound of a man huffing and puffing.

What the fuck is that?

Anton continued walking, each step careful, slow, the knife leading the way. The heavy breathing grew louder as he drew closer to the guest room.

Did he break into the guest room?

He placed his back against the wall and waited a moment longer, listening to the sounds coming out of the guest room.

It was definitely a man. The grunting and heavy breathing was too masculine. Through the wall, Anton heard the man mumble something with the sound of agony in his voice, like a wounded animal whining in a bear trap.

Was the man injured? Did he hurt himself coming in and that was why he hadn’t forged his way through the house yet?

A police siren wailed in the distance, then cut off. They were probably still searching for the man who pepper sprayed those two girls. They would never think to look in Anton’s home. He was an upstanding citizen. He worked for the government and paid his taxes—as large as that amount was—every year. Pepper spraying people was not something Anton’s neighbors would expect.

More panting came from the room. Anton eased away from the wall, turned on his heels and tentatively placed his hand on the doorknob.

The man on the other side of the door began talking.

“Please hurry,” the man said. “Ambulance, too. She’s stopped breathing.”

Anton let go of the door, leaned back, and kicked it open. The man hovered over the girl on the floor, his hands on her chest. He was pumping her rib cage, trying to get her heart going. He completely ignored Anton as he brought his mouth down onto the girl’s and forced air into her. Then he was back up and pumping again.

Anton had lost the ability to blame everything on an intruder. This man had called the authorities. They were on their way. How could he cover that up?

The room tilted momentarily as a madness overcame him while he watched the man perform CPR on a dead girl in his guest bedroom. A rumble began in his chest and came out of his mouth as a roar. He raised the weapon and charged the man. At the last second, the man rolled off the girl and away from Anton, his hand wrapping around Anton’s wrist.

When they fell back and landed on the carpet at the foot of the bed, the man twisted Anton’s wrist backward until he screamed and his fingers opened. The knife dropped harmlessly beside them as they struggled.

The man was a strong opponent, his hands faster than Anton’s. After three punches to the abdomen, Anton rolled sideways and off the man. When he got into a crouched position and turned to face the intruder, the man had the knife in his hands. His eyes seethed rage and his clenched teeth seemed ready to bite the head off anyone who challenged him.

The man lunged downward, stabbing fast and deep into Anton’s left foot. Before any pain resonated through his body, the man pulled the knife out and stabbed Anton’s right foot.

Anton screamed.

The man shoved Anton away from him so hard he stumbled a few steps then fell into the wall and landed on shards of broken glass.

He screamed at the pain in his hands where chunks of glass imbedded themselves. As the man tended to the dead woman on the floor on the other side of the bed, an intense pain flowed from the wounds in his feet. Without wanting to, he dared to look at the damage the knife had caused and almost threw up when he saw the blood oozing out of his feet just below the ankles.

Sirens were the only thing that drowned out his voice.

Flashing blue and red lights filled the house as the authorities showed up out front.

There was nothing left for him to do but accept the consequences. He had screwed up and now would pay for it.

Clara was as good as dead to him.

As the intruder ran from the room to open the front door, Anton screamed and screamed again.

Maybe he could say he was attacked by the intruder and then the man killed the girl.

Maybe.

But he doubted any story he came up with would work.

Other than the truth. That might work.

Chapter 38

Despite the nausea from the searing pain in Aaron’s arms, the pain between his legs had subsided some. When he saw Ansgar sprawled out on the carpet, he ran for the immobile police officer and dragged him inside the room before shutting and locking the door.

“Who’s this?” he asked Alex, pointing down at the man he just dragged inside the room. “Real cop?”

Alex nodded.

“Dangerous.”

Alex shrugged. “Needed to get back inside without being shot at.”

Ansgar was still on the floor struggling to breathe properly.

“You hit the C3 nerve root?”

Alex nodded and faced Ansgar.

“Grab his bag,” Aaron said. “We’re leaving. Then strip the cop.” Alex turned back to Aaron, one eyebrow up in a questioning way.

“Strip the cop,” Aaron repeated. “Put on the uniform, then get ready to leave. You’re going to carry this man out of a fire while I help.”

“A fire?” Alex whispered.

“Fire,” Aaron repeated, then stared down at Ansgar. “My friend hit your C3 nerve root. It sticks out from the third vertebrae on the side of your neck. When the root was pushed into your bone, your chest and shoulders would have gone numb. There’s pain, too. Since the C3 nerve controls the diaphragm, breathing would’ve stopped, but regained as soon as Alex let the nerve go. You should still be in distress, but you’ll live. For now. We’re going to carry you out of here. Then take you to a place where you will die.”

Ansgar watched him from the floor, gasping breath after breath through his mouth. The nose job Sarah gave him made it doubly hard to breathe.

Aaron rolled Ansgar onto his side, yanked the gun out of the man’s waistband and slipped it into his own pants. Alex was almost dressed now. The cop’s uniform was slightly big on his small frame, but Alex was making it work by tucking it in where he could.

“How did you survive the fall off the balcony?” Aaron asked.

“Sheets,” Alex said. “From above. Climbed down.” He began buttoning up the blue shirt. “Left them hanging long enough to drop to the balcony below.” He slipped his feet into the cop’s shoes. “Went over the edge, gripped the sheets and swung onto the balcony below.” He stretched out his arms. “And here I am.”

Aaron was shaking his head. “No fear of falling?”

“Never.” Alex stopped what he was doing and stared at Aaron as if he was confused. “Never,” he repeated. “Otherwise I would fall.”

“Right. Of course.”

Aaron checked the wounds on his arms. The pain resonated over his ruined flesh, but nothing a little salve wouldn’t help.

With an eye on Ansgar, Aaron took the bag and pulled the two explosive devices out. He scanned them to see if there were easy instructions but found nothing but a couple of switches and a small keypad with five buttons.

Alex moved in front of him as loud banging came from down the hall. It sounded like they were clearing the building.

Alex put his hand out. Aaron gave him the bombs. Alex ran his fingers over the keypads and set the timers on the devices.

“How’d you know how to do that?” Aaron asked.

“Dojo’s hidden camera feed. I watched him do it on my cell phone after accessing the DVR.”

“Brilliant.”

Alex placed one in the safe and closed the door. He placed the other in the hotel room’s microwave.

“We have two minutes,” he said.

Aaron dragged the cop to the edge of the door, ready to pull him from the room, then went back to Alex.

The Clock was breathing better now. His eyes remained cool, calm. Like he thought he still had a chance to get out of the predicament he was in.

Alex leaned down and touched several nerves in Ansgar’s neck. The man winced, but his eyes stayed open.

“What was that?” Aaron asked.

“Adding pain.” Alex stood up.

“Aren’t you going to knock him out?”

Alex shuffled his feet, then kicked Ansgar in the side of the head hard enough to snap the man’s head sideways.

“Shit, you could’ve broken his neck,” Aaron said.

Alex shrugged minutely. “He’s out for a while.”

Together, they lifted Ansgar onto Aaron’s shoulders and approached the door.

They stood by the door, side by side, Ansgar on Aaron’s shoulder, the cop at Alex’s feet. Alex had gathered his clothes and placed them in Ansgar’s bag. Once they were clear of the building, he would change back into them. He wore the bag like a backpack, up out of the way.

With twenty seconds left to go, Alex opened the door and dragged the cop into the hallway. Aaron exited the room behind him. Two officers were at the other end of the hallway talking to people in their rooms.

“Help,” Aaron called. “There’s more people in there. And a bomb—”

Both of Ansgar’s devices blew in unison inside the room, the punch from the explosion dented the wall beside him.

Alex pulled the fire alarm. It resonated throughout the hallway, drowning out the shout from one of the cops.

They ran toward them to help as Alex led the way onto the stairs in his uniform, dragging Aaron behind him. On the way down to the main floor, they took turns holding Ansgar’s dead weight. For the few people they encountered on the stairs, Alex’s uniform cleared the way. On the third floor, Aaron had to take a break and catch his breath.

Alex grabbed Ansgar’s wrist and checked the time.

“I know,” Aaron said. “We’ll go. But this guy’s heavy.”

For the last three levels, Alex carried Ansgar’s feet while Aaron held him under the man’s shoulders.

Once they were outside, Aaron pulled Ansgar back up onto his shoulders. They kept to the outer perimeter and moved in the shadows. Emergency services were focused on the front of the building. Police and firemen crowded people at the exits and kept them in groups, moving them toward the grassy areas beyond the parking lot. A steady stream of people exited the hotel, keeping most of the authorities busy.

Alex led Aaron behind a firetruck where he stopped.

“What now?” Aaron asked. “We need a ride.”

Alex pointed at a police car two vehicles over.

“What?” Aaron asked through breaths. Ansgar seemed to be getting heavier by the second. “Steal it?”