Read Online Blind Run by Patricia Lewin - Free Book Online Page A

himself the kids’ protector, which would put him back in the game and his ex-wife in danger. So he’d come to Dallas in an attempt to beat Marco to Sydney. The irony was that although Decker had lost the race, Marco wasn’t interested in the woman just now.
    It was the niños he wanted.
    They were the missing link, the key to unlocking the questions which had plagued him for three long years.
    Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he sensed movement and froze. Slowly, he slipped his hand to the Beretta beneath his arm and eased it from its holster. Then, hunkering down, he slid across the front seat and out the passenger door.
    Decker?
    Possible. Though Marco wasn’t expecting him so soon.
    He kept low and worked his way along the body of the car to the rear fender, his weapon ready. A half dozen parking spaces away, something scraped lightly against the cold concrete.
    He frowned.
    Not Decker. Kids maybe, stealing hubcaps. Hardly worth the effort. But Marco hadn’t survived this long by guessing. With all his senses on alert, he worked his way along the cars to investigate.
    The nearer he got, the odder it seemed. He couldn’t identify the sound. Pausing, he listened closely. It wasn’t metal against metal like someone popping hubcaps, or the slight thump of a petty thief punching holes next to door locks.
    Nothing recognizable, just an occasional scraping.
    Marco calmed himself, settling into the stillness. He counted slowly to three and swung around the bumper, the Beretta extended.
    Suddenly, something brushed against his leg. Marco recoiled, his finger a hairsbreadth away from the trigger. Then stopped.
“Murrda!”
    A scrabbly yellow tom darted from beneath a nearby car.
    Embarrassed, Marco laughed shortly and lowered his gun. “What a brave
hombre
you are.” He returned the weapon to its holster. “Chasing down
señor gato
.”
    He stepped forward to see what the cat—hunched now against the concrete—had cornered. A ratlike creature cowered within the arms of a steel girder. At first Marco thought it was a field mouse from the empty lot behind the building. Then he realized it was some other type of rodent, the kind rich kids kept in cages. Not much different from the rats he’d once used as target practice in East L.A.
    This one must have escaped and was as good as dead out here. If it managed to elude the cat, some other beast or vehicle would end its life.
    Marco moved closer, the tom hissing in protest. With a nudge of his foot, he sent it scurrying off, although it didn’t go far. He was about to deprive it of its prey, and the cat was not happy about it. Squatting down in front of the small animal, Marco recognized its fear in the wild-eyed stare and nervous twitching of its tiny paws. He’d looked into the eyes of death too often not to recognize it. It was no different here than in any of the men Marco had killed.
    Fear was something Marco understood, as was honor in the hunt.
    “
Chiquitin,
you are no match for
señor gato
.” Marco extended his hand. “He should be ashamed, hunting one such as you.”
    The creature sniffed Marco’s fingers, obviously recognizing the familiar human scent.
    “Come.” Marco slipped his hand around the small body. “He must find more suitable prey.”
    He continued to croon as he carried the animal back to the car. A fast-food box from his dinner worked nicely as a cozy cage, bits of leftover lettuce and tomato a fine meal for a refugee. He’d find a willing pet store to take his new charge. Meanwhile, the tiny creature curled into himself and slept.
    Forgetting the animal and returning to his vigil, Marco’s thoughts wrapped around the past three years. During that time he’d lived for one purpose—to punish those who’d tried to kill him and murdered a child instead.
M’hija.
A girl-child of his heart. An innocent under his protection.
    At first he’d been maddened by grief, and revenge had been his only comfort. He’d hunted down each member