Catherine Coulter - The Edge

"Oh?" I asked, an eyebrow up. "You just want to attack women who happen to wander into your house?"

"Maggie told you about it all wrong. She was coming on to me and when I decided to do something about it, she turned on me. A man gets horny, you know that. Maggie's nothing but a tease, Mac."

"Tell me where Jilly is, Paul."

"I don't know. If I did, I'd be with her."

"Look, Paul," I continued after a moment, "it's time to drop the pretense. Laura told me she's DEA, that she was undercover. They know about this drug. They know about Molinas. There were then two attempts on Laura's life after Jilly disappeared. Who ordered them, Paul? You? Tarcher? This arch criminal, Del Cabrizo? Tell us how Tarcher's involved. Tell us about John Molinas."

"I don't have to talk to you, and I want you to go away, both of you." With those words, Paul got up and walked out of the living room.

I went after him. When he heard me coming, he broke into a run, took the stairs three at a time. By the time I caught up to him, he was locked in his laboratory. Jesus, I thought, this was nuts. It was a steel-reinforced door. I didn't have a prayer of breaking it open. I told him to let me in, pleaded with him to tell me what was going on before they came in with a search warrant, but he remained completely silent.

After ten minutes, I felt Savich touch my arm. "Let's go," he said. "We need to regroup. Maybe it's time for Laura to call her boss at the DEA and let them take over. A search warrant doesn't sound like such a bad idea. They can haul both him and Tarcher in and interrogate them big time. Jesus, I'm tired. That late flight is catching up with me."

"Maybe you and Sherlock can rest a little when we get back to the cottage."

Laura and I held hands while we watched the sun sink into the ocean. The evening was mild with only a light breeze coming off the ocean. We walked along the cliffs, stopping every couple of steps to talk or kiss.

"You're right," she said, her arms clasped tightly around my back.

"About what this time?" I kissed her silly before she managed to pull back.

"We've talked to almost everyone today. You baited Tarcher. You went after Paul and he's locked himself up. It's hard to know how to make any more progress. Unless you've got a better idea, maybe it's time to call my boss and let the DBA come on out and kick butt."

Savich agreed with her. I agreed with her. But what hit me full in the gut in that moment was that I had met Laura less than a week before. Yet I knew she was honorable and, I'd wager, as loyal as a tick.

After less than a week, I knew I didn't want to let her get away from me.

I couldn't stop looking at her. She was wearing Nike running shoes, tight jeans, and a long, loose white shirt.

She'd pulled up her long hair and fastened it with a banana clip. She wore a bit of coral lipstick and no other makeup. I'd nearly kissed all of it off. I looked at her mouth and decided it was my duty to get the rest of it. I closed my hand over her forearm and pulled her to a stop. We looked out over the ocean, following the flight of several seagulls that were cruising for dinner in the water below. It was quiet and peaceful, tastes of salt blowing in the wind.

"Let's sit down," I said. We found a trio of rocks leaning into one another, back about fifteen feet from the cliffs.

"Talk to me," I said.

"You want me to tell you how sexy you look?" "Yeah, but it can wait a minute. Tell me about yourself, Laura,"

"Nothing wild in my youth, Mac. Actually, I had a pretty normal life growing up in Tacoma, Washington.

My mom and dad were close to me and my older brother.

"I played the clarinet growing up. I had great technique but my tone wasn't very good, I could never be first chair because of that."

"You couldn't play those sweet solos, huh?" "Only once in junior high. I was a pretty sight, my mom said, but my clarinet wasn't a pretty sound. I went to Boston College, dropped the clarinet-no loss to the music world-and got a degree in psychology. I always knew I wanted to be a cop. I love my job, Mac.

My older brother, Alan, is a homicide detective in Seattle. My dad was a cop. He's dead now. My mom lives near my brother and his family in Seattle."

I noticed how the wind, stiffer now than just five minutes before, lifted some stray hair and blew it across her face. I watched the fading daylight shadow-play across her face.

In that instant, a bullet struck the rock not an inch from her hand, spewing out sharp shards. She looked at me blankly as I grabbed her and hurled her to the ground, rolling back behind those rocks. Not much cover, but it was all we had.

Two more shots rang out, one striking the rocky ground and flinging out clumps of dirt and shards of stone, and the other probably high and wide. I grabbed Laura's head and flattened her face against the ground. I had all of her covered with my body, I hoped.

I leaned close to her ear. "Damn, we're about twenty-feet from the cottage and there's not even a stump for cover."

There was another shot, this one thudding solidly into the ground beside us. I pulled her back farther under me.

I looked back at the cottage, beyond that huge expanse of naked ground, and saw the front door slowly open. "Sherlock, Savich," I shouted. "Keep inside. Call the cops."

I saw a good half-dozen bullets slam into the cottage. Those shots came from my right, near the cliff. I squirmed around, pulled my SIG Sauer, rose up on my elbow, and fired off six rounds in that direction. I heard a yell.

I smiled. "Maybe I got one of the bastards. Now they know we're armed, they won't take the chance of rushing us. They might have heard me yell for Sherlock and Savich to call for the backup. Just hold tight, Laura. Think of me as your Kevlar vest."

Her face was covered with dirt. She spit some out. "Damn, that was close. This is incredible, Mac. Who are these people coming after federal agents? What good does this do them?"

I was lying only half on top of her now. Three more shots sounded, these toward the cottage. I wasn't surprised to hear return fire from the cottage, fast, an entire clip in a matter of seconds. I knew I wasn't mistaken- there was a shout of pain. Sherlock or Savich had hit one of them. How many were there?

There was silence now. Even the seagulls were quiet. Laura began to squirm away. "No," I said, grabbing her shoulder. "Don't move, not yet. Wait a few more minutes."

I yelled, "Savich, did you get through?" He yelled back, "The cops should be here in three minutes, no more." But there was something about his voice I didn't like, something that didn't sound right.

"Those guys must have thought they'd died and gone to heaven when you and I came trooping out here."

I looked up at the sky. We had another fifteen minutes of daylight. Laura and I had three rocks for cover.

A piece of cake.

She twisted about to get more comfortable, lying fully beneath me now, and said, "How many are there?"

"I don't know. At least three. Two of them may be hit. Now we wait for Sherlock and Savich. It shouldn't be long."

We waited stiff and silent for two more minutes. Laura spit out some more dirt. The door to the cottage opened. I heard Savich yell,

"Come on in, Mac. Run!"

We ran hunkered over, zigzagging over the ground as we'd been trained to do, Sherlock and Savich covering us. They fired off another clip each, fanning the area behind us. There were three or four stray shots that didn't come near us, several more that struck the cottage, then silence again.

I literally threw Laura through the door, turned and fired as Sherlock and Savich eased back into the cottage. I slammed the door, crouched to the floor, and turned to see both women laughing.