Werewolf Sings the Blues Read Online Free PDF Page A

thing we want is that fucker getting up again. Once it’s done, disappear. I’ll handle the rest.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œGood.” He looks at me, calm as can be for someone who just ordered an execution. “Now, Miss Dahl, all you have to do is remember the rules and look pretty. Can you handle that?”
    I glare at him. “Yes.”
    â€œGood girl. Let’s go.”
    Once again he jerks me forward on the open sidewalk. There is no way in hell I’m getting in his car, I know that. They can shoot me dead, but I’m not getting in that fucking car to be tortured and raped in a field somewhere. I watch Dateline, I know how this shit rolls. No, I’ll wait until Cooper leaves, then make my move. There have to be people in the parking lot. Strike, run, scream. that’s gonna have to do. Oh fuck, please let it do.
    â€œSir, do you smell that?” Cooper whispers behind me when we’re ten feet from the garage.
    Donovan sticks his nose up like a dog and sniffs. “Yep. Sweat and ectoplasm,” he whispers back.
    Ectoplasm? Isn’t that the gooey stuff from Ghostbusters ? These guys are fucking nuts.
    â€œHe couldn’t have changed that fast, and not with people around,” Cooper whispers. “It’s coming from inside the lot.”
    Donovan sniffs again. “You’re right.”
    â€œWhat do we do now?”
    â€œJust shadow me to the car from a good distance. It’s still two against one, and he won’t do anything to put her in harm’s way. Just stay low, quiet and out of sight.” Donovan switches sides so the gun is in his right hand and me on his left. At least now the gun isn’t trained on me, it’s pointed out at whoever’s out there.
    We enter through a concrete arch into the parking garage. I hear cars starting, up a level, I think. People. The exit is on the opposite side of the garage with an attendant in the booth, maybe thirty-five yards around the corner. That’s my end zone. Cooper crouches and sprints to our right—the way I need to go, damn it—as Donovan keeps us moving straight ahead toward the up ramp. There are a lot of cars, one in almost every space, and Donovan’s eyes scan for the enemy as his nose twitches. I don’t smell a damn thing. We continue walking and the twitching increases, as does his apprehension. The creases in his brow are as deep as the San Andreas Fault. That nervousness is transferred to me like a virus, making breathing difficult. I force myself to calm down and pay attention. Strike, run, scream. Strike, run, scream .
    I glance behind and spot Cooper poking his head from around a concrete pylon. Fuck. Donovan stops our death march, and releases my arm. Not yet, Dahl . Not removing his eyes from the cars directly in front of him, an SUV and the back of the Camry, Donovan slowly lowers my purse while keeping the gun trained toward the SUV. He grabs me again, positioning me in front of him as a human shield, holding the cuffs to guide me. My heart beats so fast and strong it pounds in my ears like a Gene Krupa drum solo. We stop just at the edge of the SUV. Blondie must be hiding between the cars. Not sure how I should feel about that. Fear. All I’m capable of right now. Fuck. Donovan raises his gun barrel up beside his face, waits a never-ending second, then shoves me forward with him moving half a second behind. My body becomes locked, waiting for the inevitable shot to penetrate.
    Nothing. There’s nobody between the cars, just a slime-covered black jacket on the ground. I smell something now, salty and earthy. I have a split second to process this as Donovan draws his gun at the jacket.
    â€œVivian, down!”
    I’m so hyper-alert I’m on the ground before my brain can catch up just as a gunshot rings out. For a moment I think I’ve been shot but feel no pain. Shock? No, I feel the grip of my cuffs vanish. When I glance back at