Tony demanded of the room at large. “You knew the thing in the basement was getting to him!” “We didn’t let him do anything!” Peter snapped, dabbing at a bit of blood running from the corner of his mouth. “Kate managed to grab a brass candlestick out of that lower cabinet, coldcocked Saleen—he probably has a concussion, thank you for asking—kicked Pavin in the nuts, and charged the door. Thank God, Mouse wrapped himself around her leg screaming Don’t go!, or we wouldn’t have been able to subdue her.” Gray, duct tape shackles wrapped around Kate’s wrists and ankles, and she glared up at him over the linen napkin they’d used as a gag. From the way her jaw kept working, Tony suspected she was chewing her way free. “So what you’re saying is, you traded Lee for Kate.” “What?” Good question. While his brain wondered if he wanted to get fired, his mouth rephrased and repeated. “You saved Kate and just let Lee waltz out of here.” “Wasn’t a waltz,” Mason said thoughtfully while Peter looked stunned.
