pain. It was a wonder he hadn't passed out.
"You bitch." Kelly heard a click and before she could identify what it was, Paulie's powerful arm was around her, the point of a blade pressed against her carotid artery. "You're gonna pay for hurting my friend."
Kelly held her breath. One wrong move on her part, and the blade would sink in.
"Let her go!" a male voice shouted.
The command took Paulie by surprise. Instinctively, he let go of Kelly and whipped around, his expression mean, his voice low and threatening.
In the darkness, the other man was only a shadow. "Beat it, asshole, if
you know what's good for--"
The rest of his sentence caught in his throat. In a split second, Kelly's rescuer, who seemed to have come from nowhere, landed a hard punch to the man's jaw.
The knife flew out of Paulie's hand, but almost immediately his leg shot out in a roundhouse kick. The other man quickly blocked it with his elbow before delivering a heel-kick to the groin. A grunt that sounded like rolling thunder rose from Paulie's throat. His head low, he charged and went down, taking the other man with him.
Fearing his advantage over the stranger, Kelly ran toward the wrestling bodies and gave Paulie a hard kick to the ribs, jumping back before he could grab her leg. It was enough to give the newcomer the break he needed. With the agility of a cat, he bolted up and yanked his opponent to his feet. He finished him off with a right hook that would have made Mohammed All proud.
Kelly heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. Before Paulie could decide whether or not he was up for another round, his friend was back on his feet. Still unable to speak, he slapped Paulie on the arm and thumbed him out.
In an instant they were gone. "Thank you." As she spoke, Kelly bent to retrieve her purse from the ground and was relieved to see it hadn't been trampled on during the tussle. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."
Holding a handkerchief, the man looked around, found the switchblade and went to pick it up. "You should know better than to venture into such a neighborhood all alone."
Kelly took a step back. The man who had just saved her from being raped, and possibly killed, was none other than Nick Mcbride . Like a punctured balloon, her gratitude quickly deflated. "What are you doing here?"
Nick brushed the dust from the sleeve of this tan sports jacket. "A simple thank-you will do."
"Thank you? You think I'm stupid? You probably staged this little ambush."
He looked amused, which infuriated her even more. "Now why would I do that?"
"God only knows. I've stopped trying to figure you out."
"You're upset because I scooped you."
"You didn't scoop me," she snapped, her face suddenly hot. "You wouldn't know how. And I wouldn't be bragging if I were you. What you did was low and deceitful."
"You've got it all wrong, Kelly."
"Do I? You pretended not to be interested in Jonathan's disappearance, then you sneaked behind my back, came down to
Miami
and made sure you were one step ahead of me the entire time. What would you call that?"
"Lucky--for you that is. Just think where you'd be right now if I hadn't shown up." He took out his cell phone from his breast pocket and punched in a number.
"Don't try to make yourself into a hero, Mcbride . I can take care of myself."
"Your gratitude is touching. Maybe I should have left you in the hands of those two thugs. The experience would have taught you a little humility." His voice rose. "Detective Quinn, please," he said into the phone. "Tell him it's Detective Mcbride . And it's urgent."
Within seconds, he was speaking again. "Hi, Carl. No, nothing helpful.
She told me the same thing she told you, but I didn't call about
Magdalena
. I need to report an aggravated assault. Kelly Robolo . No, she's all right." He winked at Kelly. "I got here just in time." There was a slight pause. "Two of them. Caucasian, late twenties. Big, six-three to six-four, about two hundred
"You bitch." Kelly heard a click and before she could identify what it was, Paulie's powerful arm was around her, the point of a blade pressed against her carotid artery. "You're gonna pay for hurting my friend."
Kelly held her breath. One wrong move on her part, and the blade would sink in.
"Let her go!" a male voice shouted.
The command took Paulie by surprise. Instinctively, he let go of Kelly and whipped around, his expression mean, his voice low and threatening.
In the darkness, the other man was only a shadow. "Beat it, asshole, if
you know what's good for--"
The rest of his sentence caught in his throat. In a split second, Kelly's rescuer, who seemed to have come from nowhere, landed a hard punch to the man's jaw.
The knife flew out of Paulie's hand, but almost immediately his leg shot out in a roundhouse kick. The other man quickly blocked it with his elbow before delivering a heel-kick to the groin. A grunt that sounded like rolling thunder rose from Paulie's throat. His head low, he charged and went down, taking the other man with him.
Fearing his advantage over the stranger, Kelly ran toward the wrestling bodies and gave Paulie a hard kick to the ribs, jumping back before he could grab her leg. It was enough to give the newcomer the break he needed. With the agility of a cat, he bolted up and yanked his opponent to his feet. He finished him off with a right hook that would have made Mohammed All proud.
Kelly heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. Before Paulie could decide whether or not he was up for another round, his friend was back on his feet. Still unable to speak, he slapped Paulie on the arm and thumbed him out.
In an instant they were gone. "Thank you." As she spoke, Kelly bent to retrieve her purse from the ground and was relieved to see it hadn't been trampled on during the tussle. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."
Holding a handkerchief, the man looked around, found the switchblade and went to pick it up. "You should know better than to venture into such a neighborhood all alone."
Kelly took a step back. The man who had just saved her from being raped, and possibly killed, was none other than Nick Mcbride . Like a punctured balloon, her gratitude quickly deflated. "What are you doing here?"
Nick brushed the dust from the sleeve of this tan sports jacket. "A simple thank-you will do."
"Thank you? You think I'm stupid? You probably staged this little ambush."
He looked amused, which infuriated her even more. "Now why would I do that?"
"God only knows. I've stopped trying to figure you out."
"You're upset because I scooped you."
"You didn't scoop me," she snapped, her face suddenly hot. "You wouldn't know how. And I wouldn't be bragging if I were you. What you did was low and deceitful."
"You've got it all wrong, Kelly."
"Do I? You pretended not to be interested in Jonathan's disappearance, then you sneaked behind my back, came down to
Miami
and made sure you were one step ahead of me the entire time. What would you call that?"
"Lucky--for you that is. Just think where you'd be right now if I hadn't shown up." He took out his cell phone from his breast pocket and punched in a number.
"Don't try to make yourself into a hero, Mcbride . I can take care of myself."
"Your gratitude is touching. Maybe I should have left you in the hands of those two thugs. The experience would have taught you a little humility." His voice rose. "Detective Quinn, please," he said into the phone. "Tell him it's Detective Mcbride . And it's urgent."
Within seconds, he was speaking again. "Hi, Carl. No, nothing helpful.
She told me the same thing she told you, but I didn't call about
Magdalena
. I need to report an aggravated assault. Kelly Robolo . No, she's all right." He winked at Kelly. "I got here just in time." There was a slight pause. "Two of them. Caucasian, late twenties. Big, six-three to six-four, about two hundred
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