Page 90 of Keeping Penny

Suddenly, the man threw himself to the side, forcing Pyro to take a step in the same direction to keep the rope around his neck—a step on his broken leg.

Which was why he didn’t move fast enough when the man reached into a sheath at his waist and pulled out a knife.

He plunged it into Pyro’s thigh.

Pyro let out a loud bellow as his already injured leg suddenly became almost useless. He fell to the floor, taking Bat Guy with him.

By no small miracle, his wild effort of using the knife seemed to drain the last of the man’s strength. He went limp in Pyro’s arms, making him grunt as he suddenly bore all of the asshole’s weight.

Quickly, Pyro shifted him to the side and removed the rope. There was a deep red mark around his neck but the man was still breathing. Sitting on his ass and using his good leg to maneuver, Pyro pulled the man over to the wall of the basement, where a few large pipes ran from the floor to the upper level of the house.

Then he took out the handcuffs he’d stashed in his pocket, securing the man to a thick pipe before looking down at his injured leg.

Blood had already soaked through his pants, leaving a very visible and horrific path on the floor where he’d dragged Bat Guy’s body to the pipes. Pyro put his hand on the knife, preparing to pull it out—then thought twice.

He’d had extensive first-aid training by some of the best medics in the military, and something a green beret had once said flashed into his mind. She hadn’t seemed big enough, mean enough, or old enough to be a green beret, but she’d impressed him and the rest of the Night Stalkers, and they’d respected the knowledge she’d willingly shared. Her name was Annie Fletcher, and she’d been adamant that no matter how badly you might want to remove an impaled object from the body, don’t. Secure it by whatever means you have at the moment and leave it.

She’d used the analogy of someone sticking their finger into a hole in a dam, like in a cartoon. The second they remove their finger, the water always gushes out and there’s no stopping it. She said the body was much the same, and if something vital had been pierced by the object, removing it could result in the person bleeding out.

But even if Pyro had wanted to remove the knife and find something to bind the wound, he didn’t have time. Because as he got to his feet and hobbled back to the chair, he heard the elevator starting again.

Someone else was descending to the basement, and he needed to be ready.

Grabbing the chair, Pyro used it to help himself limp to the wall next to the elevator. He cursed when he saw the very obvious trail of blood he was leaving behind. Whoever entered the basement would see it immediately. But he had no time to do anything about it.

The elevator dinged again, announcing the imminent arrival of his next foe.

Lifting the chair above his head, Pyro waited.

The second a man stepped out of the elevator, Pyro swung the chair with all his might.

It cracked the guy in the head, and he went down like a rock.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. And Pyro was without another weapon.

Except for…

Knowing he had no choice, Pyro grabbed the hilt of the knife sticking out of his thigh and lunged at the third man.

The guy was ready. Seeing his buddy get taken out by a chair to the head had obviously given him more than enough advance warning that all was not well in the basement. That their meek and mild captive had morphed into an adversary who was ready and willing to fight back.

The third man was big, tall, and muscular. Easily three hundred pounds and about six foot five or so. He had nearly a foot on Pyro, but he wasn’t intimidated. He’d taken on men just as big and tall as this asshole, and he didn’t have nearly the motivation then that he had right now.

The most pressing was Bowie. He needed to find her. He’d sent a blind six-year-old out into the night by herself, in a strange place, and he had no idea if she was all right.

The two men circled each other, each limping step sending shooting pains through Pyro’s leg. He could feel blood running down his thigh but he tuned it out. Ignored the way his head spun from blood loss. He wasn’t going down easy.

The man now had a knife in his own hand, and he lunged.

Pyro dodged and struck out with his blade, hitting paydirt with a long slice across the man’s chest.

He swore loudly, then growled, “You’re gonna die.”

“Fuck you,” Pyro returned.

“Where’d you hide the kid? Because you know what? I’ve got time before she leaves to have some fun with her—while you watch.”

Pyro didn’t let the words get to him. Bowie wasn’t here. She was safe. What this asshole was suggesting was perverted and sick, but he wouldn’t get his hands on her. Not a chance in hell.