plunging the kitchen into darkness and bursting out from cover without her unseen guise—a guise that was of no use when she needed to interact with people. She darted into the lighted dining room and grabbed the guardian, a woman older and of a size with Sam, to propel her back into the kitchen. “Run, dammit!” She hunted and found the dining room light switch, slapping it off even as she dragged the frightened, frozen refugee from her place at the table.
Finally, the woman ran, shrieking all the way out as if the noise alone propelled her; it created an excruciating dissonance with the car alarms and finally faded.
That left Sam and Scalpucci and his thoroughly—and freshly—battered wife. Even in the darkness, Scalpucci pinned his gaze on Sam. “It won’t work,” he said, nearly shouting to overcome the car alarms. “I have what I want—and I’m going to do what I want.”
Sam hovered at the edge of action, ready to grab any opportunity to free Gretchen. All but one of the alarms abruptly stopped; soon enough Scalpucci’s two men would return. “Let me guess,” she said flatly. “You want to wreck the underground so badly that there’s no chance it’ll rebuild.”
“Something like that.” He aimed a cocky sneer of a grin her way. “I think I’ve got a pretty good start, don’t you?”
“Actually, I think you’ve already failed.” Sam gathered herself in the darkness, aiming to go unseen and launch for Gretchen at the same time—no finesse, just a snatch and run. Scalpucci would know she was on the move, but he’d convince himself he’d lost her in the darkness and then she’d be waiting to take him down with a simple foot stuck in his path. More Three Stooges material than superhero stuff…but just as effective.
Except…
Light flooded the room, making her blink. Scalpucci gave her a smug, superior look. “Dumb bitch. Did you think I couldn’t find the other light switch?”
The other light switch. Of course there would be one. “No,” Sam said, “I didn’t. I figured you for a real dim bulb.”
“ I’m the one in control!” he snarled at her, and it involved spittle.
Sam kept herself from flinching at the sudden verbal violence, knowing it was just what he wanted. “Not anymore. I left one of your men trussed up over on the south side, and the cops have probably found him by now. They’ve been called here as well. So what I think is that you should cut your losses and quietly leave.”
His face—heavy features heading fast toward jowly, a handsome mouth constantly distorted with emotion—turned ugly with anger, bringing up a heavy red flush. He spat something uncomplimentary, punctuating it with a shove to Gretchen, the only woman within reach. Sam bit her lip, cursed the light switch, and weighed her chances of breaking his killer grip on his wife so they could both bolt to freedom.
One of the men returned from the front of the house, stopping short in surprise at the doorway opposite Sam. “What the hell?”
Dammit. Two of them now.
“Never mind that,” Scalpucci said, suddenly calm now that his employee had returned. “And never mind finding the others. We’ve spent too much time here. Grab her and let’s go. Be sure to leave one of your special gifts behind.”
“Already set,” the man said, eyeing Sam; his .38 revolver looked small in his hand. “We can trigger it any time.”
Scalpucci looked straight at Sam and said, “This is your doing. All of you dumb bitches and your oh-so-clever underground. And now everyone in the city will know what happens to those who defy me.” He gave his wife a hard shake, his hand clamped so tightly on her slender arm that his fingers met. She, too, found Sam’s gaze, a hopeless expression; she mouthed I’m sorry.
“Seems like a good time to scream,” Sam told her, and meant it. A cry for help in the night—Jeth should hear it if no one else. And she frantically hunted other options, knowing she couldn’t take
Finally, the woman ran, shrieking all the way out as if the noise alone propelled her; it created an excruciating dissonance with the car alarms and finally faded.
That left Sam and Scalpucci and his thoroughly—and freshly—battered wife. Even in the darkness, Scalpucci pinned his gaze on Sam. “It won’t work,” he said, nearly shouting to overcome the car alarms. “I have what I want—and I’m going to do what I want.”
Sam hovered at the edge of action, ready to grab any opportunity to free Gretchen. All but one of the alarms abruptly stopped; soon enough Scalpucci’s two men would return. “Let me guess,” she said flatly. “You want to wreck the underground so badly that there’s no chance it’ll rebuild.”
“Something like that.” He aimed a cocky sneer of a grin her way. “I think I’ve got a pretty good start, don’t you?”
“Actually, I think you’ve already failed.” Sam gathered herself in the darkness, aiming to go unseen and launch for Gretchen at the same time—no finesse, just a snatch and run. Scalpucci would know she was on the move, but he’d convince himself he’d lost her in the darkness and then she’d be waiting to take him down with a simple foot stuck in his path. More Three Stooges material than superhero stuff…but just as effective.
Except…
Light flooded the room, making her blink. Scalpucci gave her a smug, superior look. “Dumb bitch. Did you think I couldn’t find the other light switch?”
The other light switch. Of course there would be one. “No,” Sam said, “I didn’t. I figured you for a real dim bulb.”
“ I’m the one in control!” he snarled at her, and it involved spittle.
Sam kept herself from flinching at the sudden verbal violence, knowing it was just what he wanted. “Not anymore. I left one of your men trussed up over on the south side, and the cops have probably found him by now. They’ve been called here as well. So what I think is that you should cut your losses and quietly leave.”
His face—heavy features heading fast toward jowly, a handsome mouth constantly distorted with emotion—turned ugly with anger, bringing up a heavy red flush. He spat something uncomplimentary, punctuating it with a shove to Gretchen, the only woman within reach. Sam bit her lip, cursed the light switch, and weighed her chances of breaking his killer grip on his wife so they could both bolt to freedom.
One of the men returned from the front of the house, stopping short in surprise at the doorway opposite Sam. “What the hell?”
Dammit. Two of them now.
“Never mind that,” Scalpucci said, suddenly calm now that his employee had returned. “And never mind finding the others. We’ve spent too much time here. Grab her and let’s go. Be sure to leave one of your special gifts behind.”
“Already set,” the man said, eyeing Sam; his .38 revolver looked small in his hand. “We can trigger it any time.”
Scalpucci looked straight at Sam and said, “This is your doing. All of you dumb bitches and your oh-so-clever underground. And now everyone in the city will know what happens to those who defy me.” He gave his wife a hard shake, his hand clamped so tightly on her slender arm that his fingers met. She, too, found Sam’s gaze, a hopeless expression; she mouthed I’m sorry.
“Seems like a good time to scream,” Sam told her, and meant it. A cry for help in the night—Jeth should hear it if no one else. And she frantically hunted other options, knowing she couldn’t take
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