Janet Evanovich - Full Tilt

Swamp Dog stepped from behind one of the trucks, holding a gun. "Nice seeing you again, Max."

"Where are the others?"

"I'll show you." He motioned Max to follow him.

Max did as he was told. Frankie and Alexa's son were tied to a gas tank, their mouths covered with duct tape. Choo-Choo was leashed nearby. He barked and wagged his tail at the sight of Max. "Are you all okay?" Max asked, looking from Frankie to the boy. They nodded. The fear in Danny's eyes was palpable. Max found himself hating Swamp Dog more.

He turned to Swamp Dog. "Let them go. It's me you want. Besides, Frankie has already decided to pull out of the race."

"You think I'm stupid? He knows too much. He'd squeal like a stuck pig if I let him go."

"He doesn't plan to hang around long enough. His wife is already packing their bags for Scottsdale, Arizona. They just want to get the hell out of here and start a new life."

Swamp Dog shrugged. "You don't get it, Holt. I don't care about any of this."

"What about the boy? What did he do wrong?"

"His mother has a big mouth."

"That's the problem with you and the people you're working for. You're so damn greedy and paranoid you don't know what you're doing. Alexa Sanders would never say anything to jeopardize her son's life. I want you to untie him and send him on his way."

"I told you a long time ago I play by my own rules," Swamp Dog said. "I've decided to up the ante. You want your friends and that stupid mutt to stay alive, then you have to kill me." His look was menacing. "If I kill you, I get to take them out as well."

Max's eyes hardened. He almost choked on his anger. He had never killed, but he knew he could kill the man before him and never regret it. But he had to keep that anger in check, keep his wits about him because others were involved.

"I'm unarmed. You plan to gun down a defenseless man, Hodges?"

"I don't know anyone by that name."

"Sure you do. That was the name you used to go by. When you were a big brave soldier in Special Forces," he added. "Until you went over the edge. You lost it, didn't you?"

"Go screw yourself, Holt. You don't know shit."

"I know all of it."

Swamp Dog's face twisted into a painful snarl. "I have all the more reason to kill you now. But I'm no coward. You want hand-to-hand combat, I can do that, too." He laid down the gun and kicked it aside. Very slowly, he approached Max.

Max waited, his face void of expression, eyes alert and trained on the man before him. Suddenly, Swamp Dog rushed him. Max stepped to one side and gave him a kick that sent him flying into a bulldozer.

Swamp Dog stood up and wiped a trickle of blood off the side of his face. He smiled. "This is going to be more fun than I thought. I do love killing people who can give me a run for my money."

"That's not the information I have," Max said. "I hear you like taking down innocent women and children."

"The enemy always looks the same."

Max decided to try to keep him talking until he could come up with a plan. "Why'd you come to work for me?"

"Because I like getting close to the enemy. Close enough to feel the knife go in."

"Why did you kill Vito? Wouldn't it have been simpler to let him shoot me and get it over with?"

"The guy kept getting in my way. I took him out so I could have the pleasure of killing you myself."

"You had the opportunity on your boat that day."

"You don't understand warfare, Holt. It takes only seconds to kill. What fun is that? I like watching my prey squirm."

The two men circled each other as they talked, each gauging their opponent. All at once, Swamp Dog moved like lightning, ramming his head into Max's belly. Air gushed from Max's lungs and he staggered back, barely evading Swamp Dog's grasping hands.

"Whatsa matter, rich boy?" Swamp Dog taunted. "Never been in a fight with a real man before? Or maybe you're used to hiring somebody else to do your fighting."

Max blinked several times to clear his head, and then lashed out with his foot. The front kick connected solidly with Swamp Dog's stomach, doubling him over. The man had no time to recover before Max followed up with a roundhouse kick to the head. Swamp Dog dropped like a felled oak. Max followed him down and pinned him to the floor.

Swamp Dog bucked like a wild bronco beneath Max, trying to break Max's hold. Swamp Dog gave one final heave, and threw him off. They grappled together, each desperate to gain the advantage. Out of the murderous scrimmage, Swamp Dog found an opening and reached for Max's neck, reaching, reaching, until finally he closed his hands around it and began to squeeze. "You're a dead man, Holt." His eyes glittered with rage.

"Pretend I'm an innocent woman or child," Max managed. "Isn't that the way" — he paused and tried to suck in much-needed oxygen—"you like it?" He grabbed for Swamp Dog's thumbs and twisted hard.

Swamp Dog howled like an injured animal.

"What did you do to them?" Max demanded, staring into the face of a mad man.

"What I'm going to do to you, asshole."

Max couldn't allow Swamp Dog to win this fight. He couldn't let this psycho kill Frankie and Danny. Alexa's boy. Deedee's husband.

He summoned every ounce of strength he had left. Breaking Swamp Dog's hold, Max took one precious split-second window of opportunity. With a carefully aimed chop, he landed a blow to the man's larynx. Swamp Dog clutched his throat, his face distorted in agony. Max struggled to catch his breath.

With the speed of a trained killer, Swamp Dog reached for his abandoned gun. Max scrambled toward him, but it was too late. Swamp Dog raised the gun and aimed it at Max.

A shot rang out, echoing inside the large building. Max froze. Swamp Dog gazed at him in disbelief before his eyes glazed over. The gun fell from his limp fingers and clattered against the floor.

All was silent. Max glanced around. Finally, he heard the sound of high heels. Annabelle Standish stepped from behind one of the bulldozers and smiled at Max. She was regal, dressed in clothes that had never come off a rack.

The gun looked incongruous in her delicate hand.

Max stood. "That pistol doesn't go with your outfit, Annabelle," he said.

"Good evening, Mr. Holt."

Max stood, still panting from the fight. He did not look surprised to see her. "You'll have to excuse my appearance, I've been doing a little hand-to-hand combat."

Annabelle looked at Swamp Dog. "Disgusting fellow, wasn't he? White trash, that's all he was."

"Well, you certainly showed him what happens to folks born on the wrong side of the tracks."

"He disobeyed my orders. When I pay someone to do a job, I expect them to follow through."

"And he was paid to kill me?" Max said. "You know, he tried. He came very close the first night I was in town."

"Don't be ridiculous. We had nothing to do with that." She glanced at Frankie. "Swamp Dog was hired to scare off Frankie, that's all. But then you came into the picture and started nosing around, and that changed everything. You should have minded your own business, Mr. Holt. It would have been so much simpler."

"And just let you people keep scamming the taxpayers?"

"This town is a better place because of people like me." She drew herself up proudly. "Some people are whiners and complainers, Max. I get things done."

"And pad your pockets along the way."

"You're saying I should do it for nothing?"

"That's how you ended up being touted the most charitable woman in town."

"It gets good press and encourages others to dig deeply into their pockets."

"But it's getting harder for them to keep lining your pocketbook because of all the tax increases. You and your cohorts would have probably gotten away with it, but you all got greedy."

Annabelle opened her mouth to respond but turned when the side door to the building creaked open. Beenie and Deedee peeked inside the door. Max took a step toward Annabelle, but she trained her gun on him. "Don't move," she said. Then, in a voice a Southern hostess would use for welcoming guests, she called out to Deedee. "Please join us, Mrs. Fontana. So glad you could make it."