Haven 1: How to Save a Life (28 page)

When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. A creepy fucking whisper.

“You.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Kevin tried to get his legs under him, but his head spun more as he shifted a fraction of an inch.

With wide, sinister eyes the Protector stared at him. Until the elevator doors began to close. The Protector stepped forward and reached to the side, a long, thin key in his hand. He must’ve used the key on the elevator control panel because the doors opened again and remained that way. He stalked forward, the knife still in his hand, Dylan lying on the elevator floor behind him.

He stopped before Kevin, towering over him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The way he glared down at Kevin was beyond disturbing. As were his eyes. They were dark, excited as he focused on Kevin and nothing else.

At this angle Kevin got a better look at him. He tried to mentally store all the details. Not easy to do with his head pounding, with the unsettling way he was being examined. Admired even.

The Protector crouched before him. Slowly, as if he was afraid he’d startle Kevin, he raised a hand and ran the tips of his fingers over Kevin’s cheek. A light, feathery touch of cold flesh.

That almost had Kevin too distracted to see the knife coming at him in the Protector’s other hand.

Almost.

Even with the warning, there was no time to react, to block the man’s arm or the blade.

The Protector didn’t slice or jab or cut. With the tip of the knife, he traced a line down Kevin’s cheek just as he’d done with his fingers on the other side, the steel as cold as his skin had been. A reverent touch. It didn’t scratch or break the skin. Gentle. Like Walter had touched him the other night, sans the cool steel of the knife.

Kevin didn’t want this guy laying another hand on him.

But Kevin’s head spun even more, and he wasn’t certain he could move, much less walk. If he could keep the Protector distracted long enough, Tucker would find them. He may have missed Kevin calling out when he’d left the room, but no matter how far that passageway led, Tucker would eventually come looking for Kevin.

For now, though, it was just Kevin and the Protector, crouched on the floor, face-to-face.

“Will you come with me?” His voice wasn’t getting any less creepy.

“Are you fucking insane?”

That did it. The guy recoiled. He stood, towering over Kevin once again, looking angry and more psychotic than when he’d been admiring him, the handle of the blade clenched in his fist.

Great
. Way to piss off a nut job. Walter was going to kill Kevin.

If this guy didn’t first.

The Protector took a step backward. His expression changed to a playful smirk, his eyes morphing into a less sinister stare. That was more disturbing somehow.

“I know what you need,” he said in a guttural whisper. “And when the time is right, I’ll come get you. You’ll see how good it can be. With someone who can take care of you the way you need.”

“I’ll never go anywhere with you.” And Kevin wasn’t letting him take Dylan either.

The Protector didn’t say another word, but the smirk increased as he backed up into the elevator.

Kevin forced his legs under him and got to a standing position. He called out for Tucker again, for anyone. He heard no one coming their way.

He had one shot. He scanned the hall around him, searching for anything he could use, but found nothing. Then he remembered what he always had with him. The Protector reached for the control panel, and the doors began to close. Kevin yanked his phone out of his pocket and lunged for the elevator. He jammed the phone into the tight crack in the floor between the closing elevator doors. It didn’t fall through like he’d feared. Fortunately the phone remained wedged in place enough to keep the doors from closing.

He didn’t give his actions much thought, just trusted his instincts and went for Dylan, grabbing him under his arms. It wasn’t like Kevin had a weapon or any means of subduing the Protector. He only had the hope if he got Dylan away from him, the guy would take off alone, afraid of getting caught before he could stop Kevin and maneuver Dylan back into the elevator.

Kevin tugged on Dylan and had him up and in his arms in one quick movement. Thank God Dylan was a lightweight. Kevin dragged him backward, but even as he did it, he knew he didn’t have a chance of moving quickly enough.

If he’d been honest with himself, he’d known that going in. That didn’t mean he could’ve stopped himself from trying.

The Protector came at him again, faster this time.

That left only one option. Kevin would have to fight him off. Or at least try. Reluctantly he let go of Dylan, and his limp body slumped to the floor of the elevator.

The Protector seized Kevin by the upper arm. No soft touch this time. His arm was trapped in a vise. This guy was full of contradictions.

Yet again Kevin found he had one choice of action. He raised his other arm and barreled a fist at the guy’s face. The punch seemed to shock the Protector more than it caused actual damage. His hold let up for a split second. Kevin turned and reached for Dylan for a second time. Then the grip on Kevin was back. The Protector jerked him against his chest, into his arms. A tight embrace. Possessive. He spun Kevin to face him.

That was it. Kevin’s survival instincts kicked in. He squirmed, shoved, slapped, clawed at the Protector’s arms, neck, any skin he could reach. Something moist collected under his nails. Blood. He was doing damage. But the Protector didn’t let go. Kevin clawed at his face. The skin gave way, peeling back. Not skin. Some kind of malleable skin-colored material covering his cheek. And his nose.

Kevin kept tugging until he held a fake nose in one hand and half the guy’s phony face in the other.

And with that Kevin got his first real look at the Protector.

He was the firefighter Walter had interviewed early in their investigation.

They had him.

Only it was the Protector who had Kevin. Up against the wall opposite the open door of the elevator. He shoved Kevin into the wall again. Only this time, he didn’t let go. He had Kevin pinned there. The Protector leaned in. “Behave. Now I’ve got to figure out how to take you with me.”

Kevin heard a bang somewhere behind the Protector, like the thud of a door slamming against a wall. Then Walter’s voice. A shout. “Let him go.” Not just a shout. A panicked, get-your-fucking-hands-off-him shout.

The Protector’s grip loosened. He staggered backward, and only then did Kevin notice the arms Walter had wound around the guy’s neck.

The Protector went flailing backward. His right leg shot up, and whether he meant to do it or not, he rammed his foot into Kevin’s stomach. That slammed Kevin into the wall once more. The Protector had a hold on Walter’s forearms, and then he spun around, untangling Walter from his neck and forcing him flat on his back on the floor. He grasped Walter’s neck in both hands. Anger no longer described the distorted look of the Protector’s features. He was beyond that. Furious. Enraged.

Kevin tried to force himself up. Pain shot through his abdomen, and he doubled over.

Walter bucked up with his entire body and gripped at the Protector’s arms.

“Let him go.” Kevin barely heard his own words. There was little chance the Protector had.

Kevin had to do something. The Protector was killing Walter. A surge of adrenaline raced through Kevin. He threw himself at them, grabbed the Protector by the neck, and tugged with all he had. The guy didn’t budge.

Kevin yanked again. “Fucking let go of him.”

Walter’s mouth hung open. No sound came out. His eyes were wide. He clawed at the Protector’s arms, kicked at him.

“I’ll go with you,” Kevin screamed. “I’ll go with you if you let him go.”

In a slow, deliberate move, the Protector glanced over his shoulder at Kevin as he let go of Walter. Kevin staggered backward. His head pounded, the adrenaline fading fast. He was definitely not up to moving around like this. Walter’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving.

The Protector stepped toward Kevin. “Get in the elevator.”

The shouts came first. Then Kevin spotted Tucker and the security guard running toward them. The Protector took off for the elevator. He kicked Kevin’s phone into the hall from where it had been wedged in place, and he had the door closed in a hurry.

Kevin pointed to the elevator door with a shaky hand. “That’s the guy. He’s got Dylan.”

The security guard barked orders into his radio and sprinted for the stairs.

Walter was still on the floor, lying so still. Kevin dropped to his knees and scrambled forward.

“Walter.” He’d heard that panic in his own voice years ago, kneeling beside someone else. He fought to keep conscious as his head spun with each movement.

With a touch of Kevin’s hand to his chest, Walter drew in a deep breath. He sputtered and coughed, holding his throat. His eyes flew open, and he sucked in more air. Kevin helped him sit up.

Just like that, Walter was alert, all business. He jumped to his feet. Kevin followed and swayed. He stumbled backward, the world shifting around him.

Still coughing and wheezing, Walter got a look at Kevin and came forward, catching him in his arms before Kevin fell. Together they slumped to the floor.

“Kevin?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just take a deep breath.”

“You too.”

“Boss.” Tucker was crouched next to them. “You okay?”

“He’s in the elevator. Stop him on the first floor.”

“Security’s on it,” Tucker said. “They’ll get him.”

More security personnel were filing out the door leading to the stairs. The last one was Vargas.

Walter looked above the elevator at the indicator lights. “He’s not heading down. Top floor.”

“He has one of those fire service keys,” Kevin said. “That firefighters use.”

Walter nodded and added, “He can force the elevator to stay on any floor with that.”

“Go!” Vargas shouted to Tucker and the other men. They took off for the stairs. Vargas came forward and knelt beside Walter and Kevin. “Is he okay?”

Which one of them was he talking about?

Walter tipped Kevin’s head forward and felt around with his fingers, searching his scalp. “I think he’s all right.”

“I’m fine. Just got knocked around a bit.” Kevin maneuvered onto his knees and got a better look at Walter. “You’re the one who was unconscious, barely breathing.”

“We’re good,” Walter told Vargas. “Go get him.”

Vargas gave a nod and made for the stairs.

Walter yanked Kevin forward again and held him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing fighting him?”

“He’s taking Dylan.” And in that moment, it was clear. The Protector would do whatever was necessary to get away. Kevin jerked out of Walter’s arms, pushing at his chest. “Go. Make sure they find him. He’s got Dylan.”

“There’s half a dozen men headed to that floor. He’s not going anywhere this time.” Walter laid a hand at the back of Kevin’s neck. “I’m not leaving you.” He pulled him in for another embrace and said again, “I’m not leaving you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Walter turned at the next intersection and glanced at Kevin in the passenger seat beside him. Kevin had his head pressed to the glass of the side window, his eyes focused on the street ahead, his face taut and impassive. He was in shock. Or close to it.

What had happened on the fifth floor of the Haven wasn’t the outcome any of them had hoped for. For the first time since this entire thing had started, they’d known where the Protector would be and they’d had a chance to stop him, to save Dylan. Maybe even to save the men he’d already abducted, if they were still alive.

Only, when Tucker and the club’s security personnel had gotten to the fifth floor, the elevator doors were already open, the fire service key in its slot, and no sign of the man who’d attacked Kevin. No sign of Dylan.

A search of the entire floor had revealed nothing. They’d also searched the hole in the wall behind the cabinet on the fourth floor. As Tucker had shared, it led nowhere, but they did find several boxes of the stolen liquor and other items. The Protector had probably been hiding inside there until Kevin and Tucker had gone to search the other room.

The club’s security staff found two other hiding places behind cabinets on other floors. Not as deep or as long as the one Kevin and Tucker had found, but still large enough for one or two men to fit inside.

The cops had arrived shortly after that, and they’d continued the search, going over the entire club, also uncovering nothing more than three holes in the walls.

The only good things that had come out of the night were they knew who the Protector was, and now the police at least had to appear to be taking this seriously.

Walter had recognized the Protector right off. Porter Logan Prescott III.

The firefighter. One of the men on Vargas’s new members list.

Hopefully the cops would be able to check his fingerprints in the elevator and also confirm the identity with a DNA sample from the blood under Kevin’s nails.

Walter gripped the steering wheel in both fists. He’d talked to Prescott. He’d sat right across from him.

So much for always being a cop, for his instincts, for being able to read people. He’d let this guy slip right through his fingers. Twice.

He should’ve seen something. Or at least put it together that a guy like Prescott was the perfect person to climb down the fire escape at the speed necessary to get away before being spotted, like he’d probably done that night he’d been with the kid, Nelson, since that room didn’t seem to have an opening anywhere in the walls.

Tonight, though, Prescott hadn’t been going for the fire escape. Now that the cameras were installed outside the club, they would’ve seen him hauling Dylan down the steps. So where had he been going with him? And how had he gotten out of the club?

Even if he’d planned on eventually making it down to the first floor in the elevator, when the doors opened he’d have been facing the entire dining room. He couldn’t have been intending to drag Dylan out that way, even with most everyone gone from the club. And what had he done the nights the club had been full of men?