Unseen (Will Trent / Atlanta Series)

straighten.
    Will stepped in. He couldn’t watch this. He shouldered the man to standing, practically carrying all of his weight.
    “Please …,” the man begged, his voice barely audible.
    Will glanced around the room, but no one seemed moved by the plea. If anything, they were annoyed.
    “Get him outta here,” the redneck ordered. He went back to the couch, sat down in front of the open pizza box.
    Will tried to drag the man to the door. If he could leave this room, if he could manage to get out of this club, then there might be a way to save him.
    The redneck picked up a slice of pizza. “I’ll be in touch, Bud. We have a job that Mr. Whitey thinks will suit your special skills.”
    Will grunted, but only from the effort of carrying the man. There was no helping him walk. Will lifted his full weight onto his back. Five feet to the door. Maybe three feet to the exit. Around the building, then to the parking lot. Will would take Tony’s truck. He’d sucker punch him from behind, take away his keys. He would drive the man to the hospital. He would get Faith to put him into protective custody. And then Will would find Sara and fall down at her feet and pray for her to make everything better.
    Will told Tony, “Get the door.”
    “What about the rug?” Junior asked. “Ain’t no way that can be steamed out.”
    “Shit,” Tony complained. “I ain’t no damn rug cleaner.”
    “Take it and burn it.” The redneck finished his slice of pizza. “Dump the body on his front lawn. That oughta be public enough.”
    Tony made it clear he thought he was doing them a favor. He hitched up his pants. He got down on his knees. He started rolling the edge of the rug. Will turned because there was nothing to do but watch him and wait.
    This was when the man decided to make his move.
    Without warning, he pushed away from Will.
    The man grabbed at the doorknob. His coordination was shot. His hands were slick with blood. Instead of opening the door, he fell against it. He started screaming, pounding at the door like there might be help on the other side.
    Will’s instincts took over. Of all the guys in the room, he was the least lethal. He grabbed the man around the waist. He tried to cover his mouth. The man kicked him, bit him, punched him, until Will couldn’t hold on anymore.
    There was nowhere to go—no windows, no doors but the one they’d come through. The man was so crazed with terror he was practically spinning in circles. The rug bunched up under his feet. He careened off the coffee table, the desk. Tony tackled him from behind, throwing him face-down on the floor.
    Tony straddled him. The hunting knife was in his hands. He pounded the blade into the man’s back, his shoulders, his neck. Again and again the knife went up and down like a piston. The blade made a pop-slap noise as it pierced skin. Spaghetti strings of blood flew around him like he was inside some kind of horror-house snowglobe.
    Junior jammed a gun into Will’s chest, making it clear he should stay out of it. The muzzle felt like it was touching bare bone. Junior was eerily calm as Tony wailed away with the knife. He caught the redneck’s eye, gave him a single shake of the head as if to ask,
What got into that guy?
His counterpart sat passively on the couch, watching the murder unfold the way he might watch a card game.
    The stabbing continued long after the man was dead. Tony only stopped when he ran out of steam. He sat back on his heels.He was panting. Sweating. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Forehead, mouth, cheeks. Blood smeared everywhere.
    Junior put the gun back into the holster on his belt. Will could move now, but he didn’t have anywhere to go. Twice in as many nights, he’d watched one human being attack another.
    At least Lena had been responding to a threat. Tony Dell was like a jackal destroying its prey. He’d enjoyed each and every second of the kill. He’d grunted and screamed as the knife went in. The spray of blood that washed up into his face had only made him hungry for more.
    And now he was laughing.
    Blood smeared his teeth like lipstick. He asked Will, “How ’bout that, Buddy? You seen this nut job runnin’ around? That was some crazy shit.”
    The redneck was not pleased. “You see the mess you made?”
    “You was gonna throw away the carpet anyway.”
    “You didn’t just get it on the carpet, did you?”
    Tony looked around with awe at what he’d wrought. He shook his head, then