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And there was no mistaking his murderous intentions.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sheila's heart pounded in her chest as she balanced precariously on the fire escape, her gaze locked onto the scene unfolding inside Sage Walker's apartment. A giant of a man stood before her, his hands wrapped around Sage's fragile throat. Sweat glistened on his bald head, veins bulging at his temples as a snarl twisted his lips. He was a mountain of muscle and anger, and Sheila knew she had to act fast.
"Stop!" she shouted, drawing her weapon and taking aim. The man's head snapped in her direction, his steely eyes narrowing as they met hers. For a split second, Sheila saw a flicker of surprise before his expression hardened into pure rage.
The man yanked Sage in front of him, using her frail body as a shield. If Sheila pulled the trigger now, the bullet would almost certainly tear through Sage first. Meanwhile, a chair wedged against the door kept Finn from entering the room, leaving Sheila to handle the situation alone.
"Let her go!" Sheila said, her finger itching for the trigger. As much as she'd like to believe that she could avoid hitting Sage, however, she knew the risk was too great. Crack shot or not, she wasn't about to roll the dice with someone else's life.
But neither could she just stand there and do nothing. Based on the color of Sage's face, Sheila guessed the woman wouldn't last much longer before she passed out. And what would happen then? How long before she was beyond recovering?
With no other options, Sheila turned her focus to the stubborn window that separated her from the chaos inside. It refused to budge, the paint-chipped frame seemingly fused shut. Her muscles strained as she fought to pry it open, the seconds ticking away like an eternity.
"Come on, damn you," she muttered under her breath, desperation fueling her strength.
With a final, determined heave, she managed to force the window open just enough for her to squeeze through. The interior of the room was lit by a number of guttering candles, revealing a scene of chaos and destruction. Books and papers littered the floor, and several vases lay shattered on the ground.
That was all Sheila had time to take in, however. Sage's face had turned a sickly shade of purple, her eyes pleading for help as her body began to go limp.
"Let her go, you son of a bitch!" Sheila said, her voice loud in the cramped space. She advanced on the man, gun outstretched, her mind racing as she tried to think of what to do. If she could just get close to him, she wouldn't need to shoot him. She could just fight him manually.
That was the hope, anyway.
The man retreated into a corner, his grip on Sage's throat unrelenting. His rage-filled eyes were locked onto Sheila, daring her to make a move. Then, as she closed the distance between them, he suddenly shoved Sage toward her with brute force.
Sheila grunted as Sage's frail body collided with hers, sending them both crashing to the ground. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she cried out.
Sage gasped for air, her once panicked eyes now filled with confusion and relief. "He's going to...kill me..." Her words trailed off, replaced by ragged coughs that racked her body.
Sheila fumbled for her gun – it had fallen to the floor when Sage collided with her – but there was no need to defend herself. Rather than attacking her, the man had ripped aside the chair propped against the door and was now yanking the door open, revealing a shocked Finn standing in the doorway.
"Show me your hands!" Finn barked, but the brute didn't hesitate to charge at him, plowing into the deputy with full force and carrying him into the next room.
"Damn it!" Sheila swore under her breath. She couldn't see either of the two men, but she could hear them struggling and grunting. Sheila needed to help Finn.
Sage, still gasping for air, looked up at her, frightened but alive. "Thank you," she managed to say. "I can't tell you how much—"
"Stay here," Sheila said, cutting Sage off as she disentangled herself from the psychic. Rising, she raced through the doorway, her instincts kicking in as she entered the chaotic scene.
Finn was on the ground, trying to regain his footing as the behemoth of a man turned to face Sheila. His cold, murderous eyes locked onto hers, and he swung a massive fist in her direction. She dodged the blow with ease and countered, striking him sharply in the ribs.
He grunted, looking surprised. Then, as his face hardened again, he reached for her as if to wrap her in a bear hug. Sheila sidestepped him and delivered a powerful punch to his jaw. He staggered, dazed by the unexpected strength behind her small frame.
"Is that all you've got?" she asked, refusing to let fear creep into her voice.
Her attacker roared in fury, charging at her once again. But Sheila was ready for him; she ducked low and swept her leg out, tripping him up and sending him sprawling onto the floor. Before he could regain his bearings, she pinned one of his arms behind his back, applying pressure to keep him down.
"Give it up," she said, adrenaline coursing through her veins. "You're not getting away."
Finn rose, his face flushed from the scuffle. "Nice work, partner," he said, rushing over to help her. "Hold him tight."
As Finn knelt beside them, the man suddenly jerked his free arm toward him. But Finn was ready, catching the flailing limb and expertly twisting it behind the man's back. With both arms now immobilized, Sheila kept her weight on the assailant while Finn snapped the handcuffs around his wrists.
"Gotcha," Finn said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he secured the large man in the restraints.
Breathing heavily, Sheila finally allowed herself to relax, knowing that Sage was safe and their attacker had been apprehended. She was puzzled, however. They had come here, after all, to question Sage, not to save her from an attack.
