Above the Law

Chapter Seventeen

Parker lurked in the shadows outside the house. He was afraid of what he'd find in there, the Amber Alert had sounded over half an hour ago. A fourteen year-old girl had been abducted. He was afraid he'd be too late, or at the wrong house completely. He crouched when he passed an open window, then lifted his head and looked inside. Empty. He held his breath and strained his ears for any sounds coming from the house. Nothing. He glanced around the dark yard one last time, then climbed through the window silently. Parker moved through the house like a cat on the prowl, ready to strike at any moment. His hand held the hilt of his machete loosely. He paused by a doorway, his breathing shallow and steady as he listened.

And then he heard it, a terrible sound. A muffled sob. Skin slapping against skin. Laughing. Parker drew his machete slowly from its case and held it at his side. He was too late. He pinched his eyes closed as his gloved hand covered the knob and twisted. The sobs and relentless pounding of skin on skin met his ears like gunshots. He felt bile creep up his throat as he stepped down the stairs, the sounds growing louder. He knew he should forget stealth, that it didn't matter now, but he couldn't bring his feet to move any faster.

He was grateful for his mask, grateful it didn't show him the whole scene all at once. It was horrific. His eyes landed first on the wife, she was sitting naked in a chair, getting herself off with one hand and filming the gory scene with the other. Parker couldn't look at the man and little girl. He wouldn't. He focused his eyes on the woman, strode over, his machete held tightly in his shaking hand. The woman's moan quickly turned into a scream as her eyes landed on Parker's large, leathered form. She dropped the camera. The sickening pounding had ceased, the sobbing intensified.

Parker stabbed the blade through her bare stomach, pulled it out, then rounded on the man. The man who'd raped this poor little girl. The man who had raped so many innocent girls and boys. The man who'd raped Eden. And here he was, begging for mercy on his knees. Parker pressed the metal against the man's neck. "No mercy," Parker snarled, pulling the blade away, a bead of blood bloomed and trickled down Quine's neck. "How many children have you made bleed?" Parker stabbed the blade through the man's thigh, twisted, then pulled it free and watched the blood pool. "How many children have bled out on this bed? How many have you killed for your sadist pleasure?"

Parker was panting with rage, he was losing control. He wanted to torture Jackson Quine, to slice his skin wide open, but he couldn't. The girl was alive, she was here, she was listening. Why make the horrifying event last longer than it has to? Parker speared the blade into where the man's heart would be, but it was clear he didn't have one after all that he'd done, then kicked his naked chest back to the floor. The machete dripped blood into the pool around the man's sputtering body. Parker tried to control his breathing, tried to control himself from ripping that man's limps off one by one.

Parker walked over to the bed, tried not to watch the girl tremble in the red stain. Parker knelt to the floor, his heart aching, he reached out his gloved hand and slowly removed the blindfold from her face. She flinched away from him. Tears streaked her pale face. "Please don't hurt me," she pleaded in a choked voice. "Please."

"I won't." He stood and grabbed a large shirt from the floor. He handed it to her, feeling horrified that he was making her put her attacker's shirt on. Parker turned his back as she put the shirt on. She was still whimpering loudly and he couldn't help but think of Eden. The aftermath of her attack. He longed to be near her, to hold her again. "Are you done?"

"Yes." It was a hardly a whisper, but Parker hear it and turned around.

"I'm going to get you home, okay? Back with your mommy and daddy. But you've got to close your eyes for me, okay? Close your eyes." She obeyed, the tears still seeped from the corners of her eyes. Parker wiped the bloody machete on the sheets, put it back on his suit, and then picked the little girl up. She held onto his neck limply. He could hardly hear her cries now, she was burrowing her face in his chest just as Eden had. His feet squashed in the dark blood, each step came up stickily and he knew that the forensic team would finally get the lead they were yearning for, even if it was just the size of his shoe. He didn't care about being sloppy at that moment. He cared about getting this girl home safely. And getting himself safely back to Eden.