Wolf Hunt (Book 2) (12 page)

"I am," said Mr. Reith. "It's disgusting. If we do abide the young woman's request and remove him from the room, I think he should be castrated."

Mr. Dewey grinned. "You heard the man, Lou. Say farewell to your manhood."

"I didn't do anything!" Lou insisted. "She's a liar!"

"I can only believe one side of the story, and too bad for you, I'm believing the side where you're a very naughty boy." Mr. Dewey pointed to Julian. "Get this deviant out of here."

Julian walked over to Lou's chair. He kept a gun pointed at Lou's head with one hand, while unfastening the straps with the other.

Ally desperately wished that Mr. Dewey would remove the drill.

It was kind of awkward for Julian to unfasten the straps using only one hand, but he got most of them done without too much apparent difficulty. Before he unfastened the strap on Lou's hand, Julian tapped the barrel of his gun against Lou's temple.

"I've got permission to blow his brains out if he tries anything, right?" Julian asked Mr. Dewey.

"Of course."

"You hear that, tough guy? You're lucky I don't put you out of your child-molesting misery right now."

"Don't talk to him," said Mr. Dewey. "Just take him away."

"Sorry, sir." Julian unfastened the strap. Then he crouched down, pointing the gun between Lou's legs, and began to unfasten the straps on his feet.

Lou did not look happy about the gun placement.

Ally was just trying to get Lou a single instant where he could do something. There was a good chance that this instant might involve a bullet to the crotch, but they were going to torture and kill him anyway, right?

Julian unfastened the final strap.

This was the instant.

Ally threw her head back and let out the loudest, most agonized-sounding shriek she possibly could.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Glorious Chaos

Lou had been a professional criminal for all of his adult life, and most of his teenage years. He'd had many guns pointed at him. They didn't scare him much anymore. Unless, of course, they were pointed at his dick.

His genitals had retreated to the best of their ability, as if he'd spent hours in a swimming pool, but that wouldn't protect them if Julian pulled the trigger. He couldn't go out like this. Not shot in the dick. Please, no.

He wasn't one hundred percent sure what Ally was intending with her accusation. He thought, and hoped, that her plan was to buy him an opportunity to escape. He'd have to take out three men, one of whom was currently pointing a gun at his junk, but it was flattering that she had so much faith in him.

Or maybe she'd just figured that if she accused him of being a pedophile, they'd focus all of their attention on him for a while. Postpone the drill-through-the-ankle for a while longer. Around guys like these, it was a dangerous plan; they could've said, "Hey, that's a
wonderful
idea! Why didn't we think of that?"

Lou would be optimistic and assume it was the former.

What was he going to do?

His one option seemed to be: punch Julian in the head once the last strap was unfastened, and pray to every freaking concept of God that existed in the history of humanity that Julian didn't pull the trigger.

Don't. Shoot. Off. My. Dick.

Lou didn't know if Mr. Reith was packing a gun or not. To keep himself sane, he was going to assume that the old man would not be a major factor in his escape attempt. Mr. Dewey and his drill would be a problem, as would the several heavily armed men that were hanging out elsewhere in the warehouse.

Okay, his primary focus would be not getting his dick shot off, and then a very close second would be trying to get Mr. Dewey into some sort of hostage situation.

He could do this.

He hadn't contributed much so far, thanks to the tranquilizer darts, but he could do this.

What he'd do is, as soon as Julian unfastened the last strap, he'd knee him in the face. Break his nose. Hit him so hard and so unexpectedly that he'd let go of the gun instead of pulling the trigger and sending a bullet deep into Lou's shaft.

As soon as Julian unfastened the last strap, Ally threw back her head and screamed bloody murder.

Julian flinched, startled.

He flinched even more as Lou kneed him in the face.

Both of Julian's hands went to his mouth. Lou had missed his nose but delivered one hell of a knee to Julian's jaw, possibly breaking it.

Julian was still holding the gun, so clutching at his jaw with both hands created a slapstick moment involving smacking a gun into his own injured face that would probably be amusing in retrospect, although right now Lou was concentrating too hard on getting the weapon away from him to enjoy it.

Lou stood up.

Ally's scream changed, getting much higher in pitch. Lou was focused on Julian, but in his peripheral vision he thought he saw the drill boring into her foot. There was definitely some blood.

Lou stomped on Julian's foot and grabbed for his gun.

This was another slapstick moment that would, if he lived to recount this adventure later, be delightfully amusing. It wasn't so amusing now, because Lou was a big guy, and he had big feet, and he was putting every ounce of strength into this stomp, so instead of a wacky sound effect, Julian's foot shattered with a grotesque
crunch.

Now there were two people screaming in the room.

Lou ripped the gun out of Julian's hand, snapping Julian's trigger finger in the process.

Mr. Dewey stood up. Droplets of blood flew off the drill bit as it spun.

Ally was screaming and thrashing around in the chair. She did not, unfortunately, look like she was changing into a wolf.

Lou shot Julian in the forehead. Before the poor guy's body even collapsed, Lou dove at Mr. Dewey. Lou didn't
want
to take a drill to the side if he could help it, but it wouldn't be fatal, and this was not the time for cautious, timid behavior.

Mr. Dewey thrust the drill at Lou.

Got him in the chest.

Julian had stopped screaming immediately after the back of his head exploded, but now they were back to two people screaming in the room.

Lou pointed the gun at Mr. Dewey's face.

Almost pulled the trigger.

No!

He needed Mr. Dewey as a hostage.

Mr. Dewey backed away a step. Lou's chest hurt like hell, but blood wasn't spraying, and until he discovered otherwise Lou was going to pretend that no internal organs were punctured.

Lou wasn't sure what Mr. Reith was doing. He hoped to not become the kind of person who would bash an old man unconscious with his own cane, but if it came to that...

Having Mr. Dewey at gunpoint wasn't enough. If his men burst into the room—and they would, any moment now—they could just fire a few rounds into Lou's back without putting their boss or the werewolf at risk.

Sure, he could eventually get Mr. Dewey where he needed to be through the process of threatening him with the gun, but there was no time for any kind of conversation. So Lou lunged at him again.

Mr. Dewey jabbed at him with the drill, which tore across Lou's chest like a rock skipping across a pond, while Lou twisted himself around, trying to get Mr. Dewey in a headlock.

He did, just as the door flew open.

"Stay back!" Lou shouted, pressing the gun against Mr. Dewey's neck. "Stay back or he's dead!"

"Do what he says," said Mr. Dewey.

This still wasn't a great position. Lou shifted a bit, to make sure that Mr. Dewey's body was mostly in front of his, and that the gun was clearly visible.

"Drop the drill."

Mr. Dewey dropped the drill.

One man was in the room, pointing a gun at Lou. Another man stood in the doorway, also with a gun, and Lou could see Sean and Brent, the guys who'd driven him from Ontario to Tropper, standing behind him.

"Everybody lower your guns or I swear I'll kill him," said Lou. "I've got nothing to lose! Don't test me!"

Lou was telling the truth. If they didn't listen, he would indeed put a round into Mr. Dewey's skull and then take out as many of the others as he could before he went down in a flurry of bullets.

The closest man seemed to see this in Lou's eyes, although he kept his gun arm extended.

Mr. Dewey shouted, "I said, do it!"

The man lowered his gun.

"Good work, good work," said Lou. "Keep listening to me and nobody has to die. We just want to get out of here."

Mr. Reith hadn't gotten up from his chair, though he did look extremely unhappy about this turn of events.

"Reith! Get up!"

Mr. Reith shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I said, get up! I'm not gonna hurt you!"

Mr. Reith stood up, using his cane to assist him.

Lou felt like the old man was probably exaggerating his need for the cane, just a little, but Lou suddenly decided that his logic behind calling out Mr. Reith (he was less likely to try any sudden attacks when unstrapping Ally from her chair than the other men) was faulty, since Mr. Reith would be really frickin' slow. He needed somebody else to do that. But he didn't want them to think he wasn't in full control of the situation.

"Against the wall!" he shouted at Mr. Reith, even though he had no particular reason for Mr. Reith to be against the wall. "Facing it! Do it now!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll kill him!"

"I don't care what you do to him, quite frankly."

Okay, fine. Lou didn't have time to argue. That Mr. Reith would be killed immediately after Mr. Dewey met his demise was implied, but either the stubborn old fuck was at peace with his own mortality, or he didn't think Lou could kill him before the whole "flurry of bullets" thing. He was probably right.

"You then," said Lou to the closest man. "Get her out of that chair. Do it fast."

The man looked at Mr. Dewey as if for approval.

"Do it," said Mr. Dewey. "He'll suffer later."

The man nodded and walked over to Ally's chair. She'd stopped screaming, though she was still sobbing and gasping for breath. The hole in her ankle was bleeding but, without inspecting it closely and without any medical training, it didn't look
that
bad to Lou. Maybe it didn't drill into the bone. Lou desperately hoped that it hadn't hobbled her, because though he could carry her easily under different circumstances, he couldn't really do it while he was trying to hold a gun to a crime lord's head.

To his credit, Mr. Dewey's underling didn't seem to be trying to pull anything over on Lou as he unfastened the straps. "Faster!" Lou told him, even though the underling did legitimately seem to be unfastening them as quickly as he could.

"Here's what's going to happen," said Lou. "The three of us are going to walk out of this room, and none of you are going to try to be heroes. We're all lowlife criminals here; nobody needs to show off. Then we're going to collect George, and then we're going to get into a truck, and once we've driven out of this building we're going to dump your boss's ass onto the street, and after that if you want to chase us you're more than welcome. Nice and simple. Everybody got that?"

Nobody actually answered, but Lou was pretty sure they all got it.

"May I offer a different suggestion?" asked Mr. Dewey.

"Sure."

"Leave the girl. If you take her, we will never stop hunting you. Never. You know that. If you leave her with us now, we'll let you and George go, free and clear."

"Why should I believe that?"

"Because I want the girl more than I want you dead."

"Sorry."

"What kind of life do you want for yourself, Lou? Hiding out again? Living in a shack? All you have to do is leave her, a girl you were going to bring to me anyway, and we'll call it even. If our paths accidentally cross again I won't hesitate to kill you, but you have my word that we won't try to find you. I'm
done
with you."

"Can't do it. Maybe before you went all Driller-Killer on her, but, no, I can't leave her with you to be tortured to death. No deal."

"You're dooming your partner as well. Would he agree with your decision?"

"Yep."

"I doubt it."

"We'll ask him. In the meantime, shut the fuck up. Your mouth might jostle my trigger finger."

"She's done," said the man, unfastening the last of the straps.

"Step away," Lou told him.

The man stepped away from the chair.

"Can you walk?" Lou asked Ally.

Ally stood up, then her injured foot immediately twisted beneath her and she had to brace herself against the chair. Her foot slid a bit on the blood.

"Shit," said Lou.

"No, I can walk, I think," Ally insisted. "I just need you to..." She trailed off.

"She's going to slow you down," said Mr. Dewey. "Nobody would blame you for abandoning her."

Lou wanted to whack him in the head with the gun, to discourage further comments, but with his luck he'd knock the guy out.

Having George around would be extremely helpful right now. He didn't want to send any of the men to go retrieve him, though, because there wouldn't be anything stopping them from just killing him. Assuming somebody hadn't already.

"Okay," said Lou. "Just put your hand on my shoulder."

Ally did so. Lou stepped toward the doorway, and she stepped along with him, and Mr. Dewey didn't resist too much to being dragged forward that one step. This was not the most graceful way to make their exit, but it would have to do.

"Everybody get out of the way!" Lou shouted. "Against the walls! I mean it!"

The men didn't quite move against the walls, but they did get out of Lou's way.

As they crossed through the doorway, Ally momentarily lost her grip on Lou's shoulder and he thought she was going to fall to the floor, but she steadied herself in time. For somebody who'd had a goddamn hole drilled into the side of her foot, she was doing remarkably well.

There were a couple of other men in the main area of the warehouse, watching them closely as they emerged but not risking their boss's life by pointing guns where they shouldn't be pointed.

"Where's George?" Lou demanded.

The man who'd been shot in the stomach, who was no longer wearing his snowsuit but was still wearing his bulletproof vest, pointed to a closed door, right next to the room Lou and the others had come from. At least
that
was convenient.

"Bring him out," Lou said.