And felt the blade, cool and quick, bite into his right Achilles tendon Felt the strength in his leg give way as the intruder slit the tendon in his left leg as well, cutting even deeper than before.
And even though Sebastian had been trained to deal with pain, he involuntarily gasped as he crumpled to the ground.
But by the time he landed, he’d already drawn his Glock.
He rolled to his stomach and aimed but realized too late that the man had rounded the back of the Lexus, and before he could turn and fire, the intruder was on him, slamming a knee against his back, pinning his chest to the concrete and grabbing his right wrist and forearm.
No.
Sebastian recognized the position of the man’s hands and knew what was about to happen.
No.
But because of the awkward angle, he was helpless to stop it.
No!
With swift, precise force, the man bent forward while simultaneously twisting both hands.
There was a moist, thick snap as the bones in Sebastian’s right wrist shattered.
The man removed the Glock from his limp hand and tossed it out of reach, toward the door to the kitchen.
And for a moment, Sebastian was aware only of the pain arcing through his arm, shooting up his legs. He lay still, trying to control it.
Failed.
Standing then, the man retrieved the straight razor that he must have dropped after slitting both of Sebastian’s Achilles tendons. “I’m sorry about that wrist, Governor. You pulled your gun faster than I thought you would. You really are good at what you do.”
Sebastian rolled to his back to see his attacker.
Black ski mask. Black sweatshirt. Jeans. Brown leather gloves. The blade that he held dripped bright, fresh blood onto the concrete. But who? Who was he?
Someone from his past?
A mark he hadn’t hit?
Control the pain. Control the pain.
No, he’d always carried out his assignments to the letter. Never left any loose ends. “Who are you?” Sebastian asked, keeping all hint of his suffering from his voice.
For a moment, the man watched him as if he were a specimen in a jar and not a human being. “You can call me Giovanni. We’ll go with that for tonight, how does that sound, Shade?”
How does he know who you are?
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Why the ski mask? Only cowards hide behind masks.”
“You’re a smart man. I located and disabled three of your video surveillance cameras, but it’s possible you have more. I couldn’t take any chances that the police would be able to identify me after you’re dead.”
Sebastian let the death threat slide off him. He wasn’t going to die tonight.
The man who preferred to be called Giovanni studied the growing pool of blood at Sebastian’s feet, then pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe the straight razor clean. “That wrist must really hurt. Those Achilles tendons too. I’ve heard only childbirth and broken femurs are more painful than having those tendons cut.”
Sebastian knew that cursing, begging, crying, would not help in a situation like this. So, despite the dizzying pain, he kept quiet. Only listened, planned. Prepared to respond.
The man finished cleaning the blade, folded up the razor. Slid it into his jeans pocket.
Sebastian could feel his legs twitching. He tried to control them, to stop their involuntary shivers, but couldn’t, and Giovanni must have noticed. “Nothing to be ashamed of.” Sebastian heard a touch of admiration in the man’s voice. “Really. You’re handling the pain remarkably well.”
Slowly, Sebastian pressed his left hand against the cool concrete floor. He needed only a moment to slide his hand down to get to his backup gun.
Careful. Yes, now was a time he was thankful he’d been careful.
The Smith and Wesson M amp;P 340 scandium framed. 357 snub in his ankle holster was one of the most powerful snubs S amp;W made.
The finer things.
Not a man to be trifled with.
Giovanni picked up the briefcase that Sebastian had dropped when he collapsed, and set it on the workbench running along the side of the garage. “Governor, haven’t you heard the stories? About the psycho who waits beneath people’s cars in their garages and at mall parking lots, and then as they’re about to step inside, slices those tendons to disable them? You should have checked beneath your car.”
Sebastian saw him open the briefcase and remove the envelope containing the pictures of Tessa Bernice Ellis. He pulled a black magic marker out of his pocket and wrote something that Sebastian couldn’t read on the envelope.
Get to the gun. Just get to your gun.
Giovanni retrieved a black duffel bag from beneath the Lexus where he’d apparently hidden it earlier. “You know the story of how the Achilles tendon got its name, don’t you?” He set the duffel on the floor just out of Sebastian’s reach. “Achilles. The greatest warrior in Greece, but he had one weakness.”
Patience. Patience.
“There was only one place he was vulnerable-that tendon in the back of the leg, just above the heel. His one small weakness. And do you know what yours was? Pride. Hubris. You covered your tracks, but you never really thought you could be found.”
With his broken wrist, Sebastian could only use his left hand. But he knew he could still fire a gun.
Slowly, he began to drag his leg across the concrete toward his hand.
“You were wary, but not attentive. Don’t feel bad about it, though. Everyone has it. That one place the arrow will pierce.”
Giovanni unzipped the duffel bag, then looked at his watch. “I wish I could say our time together is going to be pleasant, but unfortunately, things are going to get a bit messy.”
Sebastian pulled his leg a few more inches toward his hand.
Just a little farther and you got it.
A little farther.
Giovanni took out a carpet cutter. Flicked out the blade. Set it on the workbench.
As Sebastian moved his leg, his heel scraped on the ground, prying open the gash in his Achilles tendon. He took a gulp of air to quiet the pain. Rested his leg. Steadied himself. Somehow managed not to cry out.
Giovanni pulled two lengths of rope out of the duffel and laid them neatly in front of him on the workbench.
Then a pliers.
Then a hunting knife.
Sebastian knew he didn’t have much time.
He grabbed his leg, yanked it up, and the wound widened. His leg spasmed, and a dark, sweeping dizziness rolled through him, but he didn’t scream. Just went for the gun.
All in an instant, Sebastian instinctively unsnapped the holster, retrieved the snub, and swung it toward Giovanni.
“I have a. 357 aimed at your back.” He was surprised how calm he sounded considering the amount of pain he was in.
Giovanni froze.
The tables had turned.
“Try anything and I will shoot.” But before Sebastian killed him, he wanted to know who this man was. “Now, hands to your side, or I’ll make sure you die very, very slowly. After all, like you said earlier, I’m good at what I do.”
The man who preferred to be called Giovanni did not move.
Sebastian didn’t want to kill him until he had some answers, but if the man didn’t obey, he would squeeze the trigger and not let it trouble him for a moment. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to press your luck. Hands to your side and face me.”
Giovanni slowly lifted his hands and began to turn.
“Who sent you?”
No reply.
“I said who sent you? How did you find me?”
As Giovanni finally faced him, Sebastian could see a tight, barely visible tremble work its way down the man’s throat. Still no reply.
“This stalling is going to cost you,” Sebastian said. “Now, take off the mask.”
Giovanni let his eyes flick toward Sebastian’s Glock lying on the floor near the kitchen door. But that one look telegraphed everything.
As he lunged for the gun, Sebastian squeezed the trigger of his. 357.