Rules of Prey

the elevator. You wait right here, you got it?”
    The janitor nodded. “Wait right here,” he said.
    “Right.” Lucas patted him on the shoulder and dashed up the stairs.
    Carla’s door had better locks, he thought breathlessly as he came up the last few steps, but it was still a crappy door. No time to think about it really. Christ, if the maddog wasn’t here, this was going to be embarrassing. He hurried down to the doorway, saw the light coming from beneath it. He dropped the gym bag, took a step back, and kicked the door in. Lucas exploded into the room, his pistol in a two-handed grip.
    The studio was empty.

CHAPTER
34
    There was a quiet sound from the left, like a cat dropping from a bookcase. But it was no cat. Lucas pivoted and extended the gun. There was a small room, dark, cavelike. A groan. He stepped forward. Couldn’t see. Stepped forward, still couldn’t see. Another step, three feet from the door. A white shape, trussed, arched, on the bed, another groan, nothing else . . . .
    Another step, and suddenly Vullion was there, his eyes wide and hard like boiled eggs, his hands covered with fuzzy yellow gloves, a pipe of some kind in one hand, the pipe sweeping down, and Lucas twisted the last three inches he needed to fire and the pipe smashed into the back of his hand and the gun went down on the floor. Lucas felt the bones in his right hand go and he pushed the pipe sideways with his left and Vullion’s other hand was coming up in a long sweeping thrust and in it the knife was glittering like a short-sword toward Lucas’ bowels. Lucas pivoted and caught the thrust with his broken hand and felt the hand flex and he screamed but the blade passed clear, under his arm, and he caught Vullion’s knife hand with his left hand and smashed his right elbow into Vullion’s eye socket. The impact lifted Vullion back, and they staggered together back into the tiny bedroom and Vullion’s legs folded beneath him as he hit the bed and they fell together on top of Carla and Lucas pounded Vullion’s face with his forearm once, twice, three times, the pain from his broken hand like lightning in his brain.
    And then Vullion stopped. Then Lucas twisted the knife arm, and the knife fell to the floor. Vullion was stunned, notout. Lucas hit him twice with his left hand, pounding Vullion’s ear, then rolled him off Carla into the narrow space between the bed and the wall and knelt on his head and shoulders.
    “Motherfucker,” Lucas groaned. His own breath was harsh and ragged in his ears. He reached awkwardly into his pocket with his good hand and took out his key ring. A miniature Tekna knife dangled from the ring. He pulled the knife out of its plastic sheath and gently slipped the blade under the tape that circled Carla’s head, holding the gag in place. When he pulled the Kotex from her mouth, she gasped and then whimpered, an animal cry, like a rabbit’s. She was alive.
    “Hurt me,” Vullion moaned from beneath Lucas’ knees. “I’m hurt.”
    “Shut up, motherfucker,” Lucas said. He hit him on the head with his closed left fist and Vullion twitched and moaned again.
    Lucas reached forward and cut the tape that bound Carla’s arms to the bed, then freed her legs.
    “It’s me, Lucas,” he said next to her ear. “You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is coming, just stay here.”
    He levered himself up off the bed, grabbed Vullion by the back of his shirt and physically lifted him from the floor and half-dragged, half-led him into the studio. Lucas’ pistol was lying against the wall. With a sweeping kick he knocked Vullion’s legs out from beneath him, and guided his upper body down to the floor, protecting his head. He didn’t want him unconscious. Vullion went down like a rag man.
    While he was down, Lucas picked up the pistol and walked quickly backward to the hallway, got the gym bag, and brought it inside. He pushed the door closed with his foot.
    Vullion, on his stomach, brought his hands to his ears.
    “Get up,” Lucas said to Vullion. Vullion made no response, and Lucas kicked him in the hip. “Get up. Come on, get up.”
    Vullion struggled up, fell back to his stomach, then pushed up to one knee. Blood was running from his nose into his mouth. The pupil of one eye was dilated. The other eye wasclosed, the lid and flesh around the socket bloody and swollen.
    “On your feet, asshole, or I swear to Christ I’ll kick you to death.”
    Vullion was watching him as best he