Spider's Lullaby by James R. Tuck Read Free Book Online Page A

down to the toe to minimize noise. Each step brought me closer to him, making it more likely he would hear me. If I didn’t get close enough, he would raise hell and shoot me before I could stop him.
    The urge to run at him breathed down the back of my neck.
    Go! He’s going to turn around. Hurry or he will see you. If he sees you, then it’s all over. GO!
    Shut the hell up.
    I kept myself in check.
    One step ...
    Another step ...
    I was almost there. He was just out of reach. Just at the end of my fingertips. His head swiveled around to the right and then the left.
    Quickly, I pressed myself against the crates. The wood bit into the back of my head with a splinter.
    My foot scraped across the polished concrete, boot heel squeaking softly.
    My stomach sank, falling into a hot, queasy pit.
    My mind screamed at me, GO! Strike now! NOW NOW NOW! Before he raises that gun and blows you away!
    My finger hit the button on the baton, sparking blue electricity between the electrodes; the muscles in my legs clenched, preparing to leap.
    Greasy, raven-wing hair fell away as his head turned.
    A white wire ran out of the gangbanger’s ear, bundling above the collar of his jacket. He was wearing earbuds, listening to something that wasn’t the crap music being played deeper inside the warehouse.
    His face didn’t turn far enough to see me before he leaned his shoulder against the same crate I was pressed against. He slumped, back still to me, and dug into his jacket pocket for something. I couldn’t see what it was. It was hidden from sight by his body, but after a few seconds there was a flare of orange light. White smoke billowed out around him. The acrid, sticky smell of weed wafted over his shoulder and rolled back toward me.
    I waited a second while he sucked deep, filling his lungs with noxious smoke. His shoulders raised up as he drew in, pulling deep, and held it.
    I swung around, arm snaking across his throat from behind. I shoved the stun baton under the thick work jacket, pressing the end of it hard into his kidneys. My finger rammed the button and the voltage took him at the base of his spine. Every stringy muscle he had tensed against me as I held him up. The buzzing electric shock was muffled under the thick jacket.
    After a three count I released the trigger button, cutting the voltage. The kid slumped against me, held up by my arm across the front of his body. I walked backward, dragging him around the corner. When I reached Tiff I dropped him. He sprawled bonelessly on the cement.
    â€œJesus, he’s just a kid,” Tiff whispered.
    I looked down. Black hair had spilled across a round baby face. Chin and upper lip smooth and whisker free, a light trail of acne scars dusted across both cheeks. His almond-shaped eyes were closed under thin, almost feminine brows. He looked about twelve.
    â€œThat’s why we’re using stun batons.”
    I rolled him over onto that baby face and grabbed his arms. Pulling his hands together behind his back, I cinched a zip tie around them. A shove rolled him back over. I slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth. Before I stood up, I stopped and stared at him.
    I had to know.
    The earbud was delicate in my fingers; tiny, like I would crush it if I twitched. Pulling it up, I lowered my ear toward it. The music that came out of it sounded tiny, like it was made for the ears of pixies. It took only a second for me to recognize the rich tenor of the King of Rock ’n’ Roll.
    Who would have thought a prepubescent gangbanger would be an Elvis fan?
    Picking up the stun batons, I jerked my head for Tiff to follow me. I quickly moved back around the corner and down to the spot where I had dropped the kid.
    A flash caught my eye, drawing it up to a catwalk that ran along the far side of the warehouse. Charlotte was curled around a gangbanger, stun baton jammed into his neck, she held him as he twitched in her grip. She looked like she was floating in