I took a step back, hitting the side of the kitchen island.
"I'm not going to use it on you." Knife in one hand, gun in the other, he headed to the front door of the apartment.
Now he looked like a homicidal version of Lara Croft. Or was that Larry Croft? I pressed my lips together to suppress a nervous laugh.
Transferring the gun into his other hand, he worked the locks loose and opened the door.
Standing deep in the shadows, I couldn't see the scuffle, but I heard it, followed by one thud, then another.
Woody stepped back into the apartment, weapons back in both hands.
"Four down, one to go." He nodded toward a staircase to the side of the living area. "I'm guessing that leads to where the asshole sleeps."
I glanced towards it, then the open door. "We could leave," I said.
The air coming in from the corridor was cold. I wished I had more to wear than his jacket, but it could be worse. I could be wrapped in a towel and nothing else. Did Woody have to destroy my underwear?
"I'm not leaving that prick alive," Woody said. "You can go or you can help me. If we let him live, hewillcome after you. He thinks you belong to him. He won't give up until he has you back."
"When you put it that way…" I'd sleep better at night knowing that wasn't going to happen. He was right, though. No one paid money to buy someone else, only to let them walk outthe door without looking back. Especially men as entitled as this one.
No, he'd hunt me down until he found me. The things he'd do to me would be a hundred times worse than him watching while Woody fucked me.
We needed to end him. It was the only way I'd get any peace.
"I'll help," I said finally. I pushed the gun into the jacket pocket and reached for another, smaller knife.
"You know how to use that?" Woody asked again.
"Of course I do," I said with a sniff. I strode past him and started up the stairs.
He made a sound of disbelief before hurrying after me.
CHAPTER 16
SABLE
I toed off my shoes at the top of the stairs, not wanting to risk making a sound on the hardwood floor. This wasn't a horror movie where I could stomp all the way in, scaring the shit out of him as he waited for us to appear in the doorway. Him cowering under the blankets, hoping to be spared by the homicidal manic, possibly in clown makeup.
No, it was better if he didn't know we were coming.
In addition, it'd be better if no clowns were involved. They gave me the creeps.
"Fuck," Woody hissed as he tripped over my shoes.
"Shh," I told him. "We're supposed to be sneaking."
"We were sneaking until you left those right there," he growled softly.
"They're right against the wall," I pointed out. "It's not my fault you weren't looking where you were going."
"I—" he started. "You know what? Just be quiet."
"I am being quiet," I said. "You're the one making all the noise."
He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and blew it out slowly. "Come on, let's find this asshole," he said.
I was tempted to point out I'd already found one, but that would break the tentative peace between us. I'd save that for later, when he could see I was joking. More or less.