Catherine Coulter - Riptide

She twisted her head to look at him. “You bastard. Let me go.”

“Not just yet. I want to hang on to my body parts. Hey, you didn’t do too badly for an amateur.”

“Let me go.”

“Will you stop with the violence? I can’t stand violence. It makes me nervous.”

Her look was incredulous as she chewed her bottom lip. Finally, she nodded. “All right.”

He let her go and took a quick step back, his eyes on her right knee.

She was off and running in a flash. This time, he let her go. She was fast, but he knew that from her dossier. She’d spotted him watching her house. It amazed him. He was always so very careful, so patient, as still as one of the spruce trees. In the past, his life had depended on it more times than he cared to remember. But she’d cottoned on to the fact that someone was out there, with her in his sights.

Well, the stalker had been after her for more than three weeks in New York. That had sharpened her senses, kept her alert. There was no doubt she was afraid, but it hadn’t mattered. She’d come out and confronted him anyway. He whistled as he walked over and bent down to pick up her Coonan automatic. It was a nice gun. It had a closed breech that gave it very high velocity. His brother had one of these babies, was always bragging about it. It was steady, reliable, deadly, and not all that common. He wondered how she handled the recoil. He dumped the seven rimmed cartridges into his hand, then dropped them into his pocket. He paused a moment, wondering if he shouldn’t leave the gun in her mailbox or slip it just inside her front door.

He imagined she wouldn’t feel safe without it.

He saw Tyler McBride and his son leave about ten minutes later. He saw her wave from the front porch. He saw her looking over toward where he quietly stood, surely not visible through the trees. She went back into the house after Tyler McBride and his son drove off. He waited.

Not three minutes later she was back, standing on the front porch, looking toward him. He saw her thinking, weighing, assessing. Finally, she trotted toward him.

She had guts.

He didn’t move, just waited, watching her. He realized when she was only about ten feet from him that she had a big kitchen butcher knife clutched in her hand.

He smiled. She was her father’s daughter.

Slowly, he pulled her gun out of his pants pocket and aimed it in her general direction. “Even that big honker knife can’t compete with this Coonan you managed to get off that guy you met at the restaurant in Rockland. He was, however, pissed that you wouldn’t go to bed with him.” He grinned at her. “Hey, you got what you needed. You did good.”

“How did you know about that? Oh, never mind. My knife can certainly compete with the Coonan now. I watched you take the bullets out.”

He grinned at her again, he just couldn’t help it, and held the automatic out to her, butt first.

“What good is it? You’ve got the bullets. Give them to me now.”

He scooped the seven bullets out of his pocket and handed them and the automatic to her.

She eyed the gun and the bullets, then backed up another step. “No, you want me to come a bit closer and then you can kick my knife away. You’re fast, too fast. I’m not stupid.”

“All right,” Adam said, and he thought, Smart woman. He laid the bullets and the gun down on the ground and took a good half dozen steps back.

He said easily, “It’s an effective weapon, that Coonan, but if I have to carry one of those things, I prefer my Colt Delta Elite.”

“It sounds like some western debutante.”

He laughed. “Aren’t you going to pick up the gun?”

She shook her head at him and didn’t move. She was holding the butcher knife like a mad killer in a slasher movie, her arm pulled back, the point out and arched. The sucker looked really sharp. He could get it from her, but one of them could easily get sliced up. He stayed put. Besides, he wanted to see what she’d do.

“Tell me what you’re doing here. Why did you come up to me at Food Fort? Why are you watching me?”

“I’d really rather not tell you just yet. I hadn’t expected you to see me. When I’ve wanted to stay hidden in the past, I’ve managed it quite well.” He suddenly looked pissed off, not at her but at himself. She almost smiled, then tightened her grip on the knife.

“Tell me, now.”

“All right, then. I’m here to do research on why women dye their hair.”

She very nearly ran at him with the knife. She was so mad she nearly forgot the bone-grinding fear. “All right, you jerk, I want you to lie on the ground and fold your hands underneath you. Do it now.”

“No,” he said. “The windbreaker is new. It looks good on me, hey, maybe it even looks dangerous and sexy. What do you think? Women like black, I’ve heard. Nope, I don’t want it to get dirty.”

“I called Sheriff Gaffney. He should be here any minute.”

“Nah, you can’t bluff me on that. The last person you want here is the sheriff. If I spilled the beans, he’d have to call the New York cops and the FBI.”

She was so pale he thought she’d pass out. Her hand trembled a bit, but then she got ahold of herself. “So you know,” she said. “I don’t think you’re the stalker-your voice is all wrong and you’re too big-but you know all about him, don’t you?”

“Yes. Now listen to me, Becca. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to-Hey, think of me as your own personal guardian angel.”

“You’re so dark, you look more like the devil, but you’re taller than I think the devil is. What’s more, unlike the devil, I’ll bet you don’t have a lick of charm. The last thing you are is a guardian angel. You’re a reporter or a paparazzo, aren’t you?”

“Now you’ve offended me.” She nearly laughed. But she had to remember that he was dangerous, fast and dangerous. No, she couldn’t afford to forget that, not for an instant. She would still have laughed if her gut hadn’t been frozen with fear for nearly as long as she could remember. He was trying to disarm her, at least figuratively this time. Thank God he didn’t have use of her gun. And he was too far away to kick out at her. But he was fast. He had long legs. She took another step back, as insurance.

She waved the knife at him. “I’ve had it. Tell me who you are. Tell me now or I might have to hurt you. Don’t underestimate me, I’m strong. No, it’s more than that. I’m beyond frightened. I’ve got nothing to lose now.”

He looked at her-too pale, her flesh drawn tightly over her bones, too thin, so stressed out he could nearly see her insides quivering. He said slowly, his voice as unthreatening as he could make it, “To hurt me you’d have to come closer. You know better than to do that. Yeah, you’re strong, maybe I wouldn’t even want to run into you in a dark alley. But there’s a big something you’re wrong about. Everyone has something to lose, including you. Things have just gotten a bit out of hand for you, that’s all.”

“A bit out of hand,” she repeated slowly, then laughed, an ugly, raw sound. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She waited, just stood there, the knife up and arched, her hand starting to cramp, her muscles starting to protest, staring at him, wondering what to do, wondering if she could believe him and knowing she’d be a fool even to consider it.

He said, “Actually, I do. What I wanted to say was that the media and the press are after you in full force, that’s a fact, but you should be safe here.”

“You found me.”

“Yeah, but I’m so good I occasionally even surprise myself.”

She raised the knife even higher. She felt the sun warm between her shoulder blades. It was a beautiful day and everything was a mess. He was her guardian angel? Her arm muscles were burning.