Iris Johansen - Quinn

Clear shot.

But Jacobs’s killer was almost on top of her.

Get the shot off.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of another figure standing in the water several yards from the bank.

Gallo.

What the hell?

Forget it. Level and fire, or he’d be too late to save Catherine.

Hell, it could be too late now.

THROW THE KNIFE.

Take him down.

Gallo’s hand was frozen on the hilt as he watched the man who had killed Jacobs glide toward Catherine.

Gallo had to move, but he couldn’t do it. Not this time. It was as if everything was going in slow motion for him.

He could see Catherine stiffening, and knew that those wonderful instincts with which he’d become so familiar were in play.

She knew.

Even as he watched, he saw her whirl and start to drop to the ground as she saw her attacker.

Too late.

He was already on Catherine, a thin dagger gleaming as he raised it.

It was coming down!

She was going to die.

“No!” The agonized cry tore from Gallo’s throat.

He threw the knife.

DEAR GOD, HE’S FAST, Catherine thought as she reached for the knife on her thigh.

Fall. Roll. Then stab the bastard in the gut.

But he was over her, his dagger coming down and-

He screamed as a bowie knife pierced the hand holding the knife and came out the other side!

Gallo’s bowie knife. She recognized it. And Gallo standing in the water several yards away from the bank.

It gave her enough time to get her own knife out of the thigh holster.

“Dammit, get out of the way, Catherine.”

She glanced toward the trees. Joe. Trying to get his shot.

She rolled to the side.

The man in the wet suit was cursing as he turned and ran toward the bayou, bent low, and zigzagging in the underbrush.

A shot.

Missed.

He jumped into the water, reached out, jerked out the knife piercing his hand, and threw it aside. He dove beneath the surface.

Catherine jumped to her feet and was at the bank of the bayou in seconds.

“Gallo, get him!” she called as she slipped off the bank into the water.

Gallo didn’t answer, and she couldn’t see him. The fog had come down again.

“Catherine, no!” Joe was suddenly standing on the bank beside the cypress tree. “Come back. Don’t take a chance. Don’t trust him.”

Of course, she wasn’t going to trust that murderer. He’d just tried to kill her. “It’s okay, Joe. Gallo’s somewhere out here, too. We’ll get the bastard. He’s wounded and losing blood.” She was starting to swim away from the bank. “Gallo!”

“Catherine, listen to me.” Joe’s voice was harsh, his fists clenched at his sides. “It’s Gallo I’m talking about. I saw his face. He wasn’t going to throw that knife. He wasn’t going to save you. Gallo didn’t care if you lived or died.”

Shock went through her. “No, you’re wrong, Joe. He did save me. Look, I can’t talk.” She began swimming faster. “I’ll blow my chance of getting that bastard. You’d better jump in the car and patrol the road. He might try to get out of the water as soon as he can. The blood is going to draw alligators.”

“Catherine!”

She couldn’t see him any longer. She was surrounded by the thick, heavy mist that felt as if it was going to smother her. She suddenly felt very much alone.

But she wasn’t alone. There was a murderer out there who had been within an instant of killing her. Was he close? He could be only yards away from her and she wouldn’t know it. It would be smart of him to lie in wait and ambush any pursuers. It was probably what she would have done.

Her heart was beating hard, she could feel her pulse jumping in her throat.

She stopped swimming and listened.

She heard something, a displacement of water… Where had it come from? Dammit, where was Gallo? She could have used someone to watch her back.

Gallo doesn’t care whether you live or die.

She heard the sound again. Closer.

She tensed, her hand reached down and grabbed her knife.

Come and see what’s waiting for you, you son of a bitch. I’ve been on my own all my life. What was I thinking? I don’t need any help from Gallo or anyone else.

Come and get me.