The Hard Bounce - [52]

I took the camera off the tripod and smashed it on the floor. Junior ran to the doorway. “You okay?”

“All good. Just enjoying some smashy-smashy.”

Junior looked at the camera pieces. “Nice. Can I piss on it?”

“Who am I to deny you the simple pleasures?”

Junior and I were in agreement that we needed to get our asses in gear and boogie the hell on out. Pronto. We carried Cassandra over to the couch, placing her on the cushions as though she were made of porcelain. After double-wrapping Snake’s bonds, we taped his mouth over. Just to be a dick, I wrapped a few rounds over his eyes and ears, making sure I tangled a lot of his hair in the industrial-strength tape.

Junior left to pull the car around front. I was to wait five minutes and hustle Cassandra out the door and into the car.

Four minutes down, and we were going to pull it off. We’d done it, despite the missteps, bullshit, and general lack of having a single clue about what we were walking into. We’d pulled it off, despite every plan blowing up in our faces. I smiled as I looked down at Cassandra’s body, every breath she took a bonus.

She was alive.

Gently as I could, I threw Cassandra’s arms over my shoulder and lifted her in a fireman’s carry. I guessed her weight at about a hundred pounds, maybe a hint over. Even so, it was a hundred pounds of dead weight. And I was five flights of stairs up from making good the escape. I wasn’t chancing the elevator and having to explain to other tenants why I was toting an unconscious fourteen-year-old girl over my shoulder. I’m pretty good on my feet, but even I didn’t think I could talk my way cleanly through that one.

No matter what, five flights of stairs was just flat-out going to suck. I opened the door and lumbered across the hallway and out the fire door to the stairs.

The first two flights weren’t bad.

Three flights down, my shoulder went numb and my fingers were well on their way. I stopped on the landing, breathing heavily, my shirt starting to soak through. Why couldn’t Cassie have run away in the goddamn winter? No, she had to go and run away during the hottest summer in twenty years. I cursed myself for not having more cardiovascular in my daily workout. But really, how would I have prepared for this? Gone for a jog with a couple concrete sacks over each shoulder?

By the time I got us down to the second floor, my whole arm was dead and my shoulder felt like a strong breeze would pop it out of socket. Genius that I was, I’d slung Cassandra over the shoulder I’d run into The Cellar’s back door. I couldn’t figure out any way to shift her to my other arm in the cramped stairwell without smacking her head against the wall. Instead, I gritted my teeth and plodded on.

Finally, we made it to the ground floor just as my lumbar started to cramp up. I propped Cassandra against the wall, holding her up by the hood of her sweatshirt, twisting at the waist to avoid a full blow-out of my back. Pins and needles buzzed painfully down my arm like a swarm of pissed-off bees. I muttered a few curses and looked out the door for Junior’s car. He wasn’t there yet. I cursed some more. Small blessing that the rain would keep foot traffic to a minimum as we got Cassandra out of the building. Nothing like trying to pull off a half-assed kidnapping in broad daylight.

Then the elevator bell pinged behind me.

My heart seized as I heard the old elevator door scrape open. My mind raced, and I leapt into the one action my panicked brain concocted. I blocked Cassandra with my body and stuck my face in her neck, a pose of lovers mid-makeout.

Tiny feet jumped up and paddled my ass, making my already overtaxed heart bounce around my ribcage like a superball. I jerked and turned to find a hyperactive Boston Terrier in a yellow rain slicker happily playing my backside like bongos.

“Down, Max!” a voice said from the other end of Max’s leash. I followed it to an elderly woman in a matching raincoat glowering at me. The dog jumped down and pulled the leash toward the door. “Get a room,” the old woman grumbled as she passed.

I turned to block Cassandra from the other side and stuck my face back against her neck. I counted to twenty after the door closed before I chanced another look for Junior. Of course, he was at the door, mouth open in shock.

“Fucking perv,” Junior said. Then he cackled softly.

He’d managed to keep his goddamned mouth shut long enough for us to prop Cassandra into the backseat. In the interim, he’d snickered out his nose twice, so I knew it was only a matter of time before the comments came flying.

“Shut it. I mean it. Think about what we just pulled her out of. It’s inappropriate.”

“It’s inappropriate,” Junior mocked in a Mary Poppins accent. “Out of the arms of one perv-” His last words got lost in an amused squeak.

“She’s fourteen, you sick fuck. Besides, what else could I have done? What would you do?”

“I wouldn’t have dry-humped the jailbait against the wall, that’s for sure. That’s inappropriate,” Junior said. Then, softly, “Fucking perv.”

“Not another word, Junior.” I was trying not to crack up myself. I’d just have to put up with a few years’ worth of Junior’s mockery. He snorted again, and that was it. We both lost our shit, and I giggled until my ribs ached. All in all, it wasn’t funny, but fuck, we needed the laugh.