Deguello (A Hunter Kincaid Novel) - Page 48

“Hurry, I’m in trouble. They’re after me.”

Hunter tensed, “Where?”

“The hospital, they came for me.”

“But how did they know?”

“Not important, just come get me. I put one down, but two more are close. They’re gaining.”

Hunter wanted to ask a dozen questions, but hurried to her pickup and drove toward the hospital, looking all the while for Ike. She called him back, “What are you wearing, so I can spot you?”

Ike cut down an alley off of East Harris Avenue and said, “If you’re coming up behind me, look for my butt winking at you. I’m in a hospital gown.”

Hunter let a ghost of a wry smile show. Even though this was a dire circumstance, Ike still had a sense of humor. Hunter gripped the wheel so tight that her knuckles were white. She had to get there, had to help him.

Ike cut between buildings and cars, heading for the city park by the river. He glanced behind once and saw the man coming, a short, broad-shouldered man built like a bull, and Ike noticed he was gaining.

Crossing back and forth between the buildings, he finally cut across East Twohig and passed behind the gazebo, not stopping but continuing toward the river and more cover from the trees.

The last remnant of his slippers came off when he crossed the clearing, and his feet jerked at the spiny goatheads and small, jagged stones hidden in the grass. His breathing came in gasps, and bile-like nausea bubbled in his throat.

Behind him, Diego closed the gap, pulling his knife as he ran. He was almost close enough to throw, but he hated to do that, preferring instead to feel the blade enter someone’s body. Like stabbing a pillow, he thought with remembered satisfaction.

As Ike trotted down to the lower bank of the river, he saw a possible escape and called Hunter as he made his way under the pecan trees.

Hunter answered, “Yes?”

“There’s a road, a bridge that crosses the river beside the park.”

“Yeah, it’s called Rio Concho.”

Meet me there, I’m trying to outrun this damn guy, so I’ll be coming fast.”

“Jump in the pickup bed, and I won’t slow down much.”

“Okay.”

Hunter turned on the next street and again at the following one. She drove slow since there was little traffic, and when she reached the river, she spotted Ike coming her direction, down by the river and the cane, with his pursuer twenty yards behind. She stopped at the point where the bridge went over the river and the pedestrian trail came out of the park and up to join the street as it crossed the water. “Come on!” Hunter yelled.

Ike nodded, but then staggered as he vomited, almost halting his speed. The short man sped up and closed fast. Hunter yelled, “Run! He’s gaining on you!” She drew her pistol and held it by her leg.

Ike gasped out, “I know!”

The two men were almost at the point on the trail where it started up the incline to the street, and that’s when the short man put on a sprinter-like burst of speed. Ike turned at the last instant and the two men collided with an audible thump, chest to chest.

Hunter lost sight of them as they went under the bridge, still battling. She had seen the knife in the short man’s hand.

Glancing both ways to see if any traffic approached, Hunter left her pickup and hurried down the trail and underneath the bridge.

Ike flailed three feet from the bank as he struggled in the river where the cane hung over and under the water. Hunter ran to him, reaching out her hand to grasp his wrist and help him pull away from the cane and reach the bank, where he crawled out on his knees, exhausted.

“Where’s the guy chasing you?”

Ike motioned with his thumb at the cane. “Under there.”

“You want to try and save him?”

Ike’s eyes were hot, “That’s a death trap, and I wouldn’t want anybody going in that mess. It’s like a hundred hands pulling you under.”

Tags: Billy Kring Thriller
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