19. Messiah

Driving home had been a bitch. I debated whether or not to stop and have one of the mob's medical guys look at my leg. But right now, I don"t have the patience. I can wash it at home – I probably have bandages somewhere – and get a few drinks in me to numb the pain. That would have to serve as enough for tonight.

Thankfully, there aren't any neighbors in the lobby to see me hobbling my way up from the parking garage. The elevator doors are open when I turn the corner. I should wait for whoever is on to get off. I am sure even in this run down joint, standing next to a guy bleeding down his leg is going to cause more attention than I want. But the pain is enough that I decide to just endure the staring.

Hobbling faster, I manage to stop the doors from closing and groan as I try to straighten myself up to walk over the metal plate. What I am not expecting to see as I look up is the motherfucker who stabbed me.

He is wearing a black medical mask that covers most of his face. But I recognize the raggedy blue jack he is wearing. And he fucking recognizes me. The perp tries to dodge me and bolt out the door, but I slam my body into his and knock us into the elevator. Before he can stand, I reach over and slam the button for my floor. Unfortunately for him, it is a floor below where he was already trying to go.

This motherfucker lives in my building! I have been looking for him for nearly a month and he was right here. I will process that anger after I get this motherfucker back to my place. Our landlord is too cheap to have cameras inside the elevators. He struggles as I let my weight hold him down. This junkie probably weighs a hundred pounds wet. No wonder he was able to run off so quickly. Fucker probably blew away with the wind.

He groans as he tries to take a swing at my face, but I pin his arms down at his sides. Pain sears up my side as his foot connects with my injured leg and I groan as I tighten my grip on his throat.

The elevator slides to a stop and the doors open. Luckily, no one is there waiting. Swinging back, I slam my fist into the fucker's face. He groans as blood soaks through his mask and starts to drip on his shirt. Before he can right himself, I grab his jacket and yank him up. I don't know where his knife is right now. Maybe he tossed it after cutting me.

We fight as I drag him off the elevator. Thankfully, the people in this building are a hear nothing-see nothing type of crowd. If anyone hears our scuffle, they are smart enough to not come to their front door and try to see what is going on. The little fuck is squirrelly, and it is hard to stay up on my injured leg and drag him toward my apartment. How am I going to get the key out of my pocket?

With a grunt, I grip his shirt in one hand and shake him. He freezes and I can see his pale eyes go wide as I lean down and punch him in the face again. This time he is knocked senseless enough to stop fighting. I half drag, half carry him down to my apartment door and reach with one hand into my pocket for the key.

Scrawny fingers are scratching at my arm as I unlock the deadbolt and push the door open. I toss the fucker into my entryway and step in behind him, slamming the door at my back. I put the chain on then turn and pick him up, grunting as I pull him from the floor and slam him against the wall.

"You have been a real pain in my ass," I growl.

I slam him against the wall again and the air wooshes out of his lungs. At least, I thought it was a him. The grunt that escapes the perp's lips is too high a tone to be male. My hands let go of his shirt and the junkie slides to the floor. I rip the hood off his – her – the fuck? Long dark hair spills out and I reach for the mask, ripping it off her face before she has a chance to fight me.

"Angel?"