“Watch this, bitch.” He cut a deep groove across the man’s gut—and the tough bastard didn’t make a sound.

In the dim light, the pooling blood looked black against his skin, and Frankie let out a choking scream. “No!”

Nabera held the blade up. “You need to yell ‘Bull’ real loud, or I’ll poke so many holes in this bastard’s gut that no surgeon will be able to repair him.”

Horror filled her expression. She sucked in a breath and let loose. “Bull!”

“Yep. That should do it.” Seeing the blood dripping off his knife, Nabera had to fight the craving to finish the job.

Not yet.

He shouted to the buildings, “Bull. I have Hawk too. I’ll trade them for the three bitches—the state representatives. Do it, or I’ll cut these two to pieces. You’ll hear them screaming. Before they die.”

“Nooo.” Even though Regan’s voice had only come out a thin whisper, she clapped her hands over her mouth. That…that horrible man would kill Frankie and Uncle Hawk?

Beside her in Hawk’s bedroom, Aric whimpered.

She put her arm around him. He was only a little kid. He shouldn’t be hearing this.

But it wasn’t her fault he was here. He’d snuck out, and the women hadn’t seen him…or seen Regan following him. In the tunnel, he’d run really fast, and when she caught him, he wouldn’t go back.

He’d wanted into Hawk’s house—and, okay, like she really wanted to see what was going on, too, and she knew the code to open the door. When Papá taught her the emergency drills, she’d learned the passwords.

Aric shivered as he peeked out the window. “That was Captain Nabera,” he whispered. “Is Hawk in the white car?”

“The big van?” Regan bit her lip. Frankie’s scream had come from that way. “I guess.”

“The captain’s gonna kill him.” Aric was shaking harder. “Will somebody go get him ‘n’ Frankie away? Your dad?”

Regan studied the van. No trees around it, no buildings. Just really short bushes and tall grass. Even Papá couldn’t sneak there. Maybe if he crawled on his belly, but that’d take forever.

They didn’t have forever.

She and Aric were a lot littler than Papá. “We could get there.” Maybe. Now she was shaking too. “We’re good at sneaking.”

“We can’t get past the fence.” Camo paint still streaking his face, Aric stared down at the bare road.

“Can.” Papá was going to kill her for leaving. She’d be doing pushups, like, forever. “One end of the tunnel comes out on the other side of the fence.”

“’Kay,” Aric whispered.

She peeked in Hawk’s nightstand. If he was like Papá… He was. A sheathed knife lay in the top drawer. “Here. Just in case.”

Aric shoved it into a pocket of his camo pants.