Chapter 2The rest of the night had been long and lonely.
Worried about the boy, Nathan paced, wringing his hands nervously while waiting to be told if he was going to live or die. Finally, he sat down and began looking at the kid’s knife. When he thought about giving it back to him he broke out in a cold sweat. It was six inches of cold steel, the handle was ivory, and it looked as if it had been made for murder. He weighed the knife in his hand, but it was no heavier than a kitchen blade. The weight didn’t matter. Nathan knew it would cut on first contact, even with minimum pressure. Its serrations were like waves, and would go in smoothly and do maximum damage. The thought of it being in the clutches of one so young sent a chill up Nathan’s spine. What the hell was this kid doing with a
