“We don’t have much time.” Walker was ashen, one knee jiggling nervously, his arm in a sling, and probably on some kind of pain medication. Useless, Mac realized. Worse than useless. A liability.

“So here’s how it’s going to go down. We wait until we hear, then you stay in the vehicle while I-”

“I’m not staying in the vehicle.”

“You’ll stay or we won’t go.”

“I can’t, Mac, you know that.”

“And I can’t have you-wait a sec.” His cell phone was ringing, the tone indicating he had a voicemail message. “The phone never rang,” he said. “Fuckin’ coastal service.” He listened to the terrified message from Becca Sutcliff. As he did, his heart plummeted and at the next wide spot in the road, he executed a police U-turn.

Hudson grabbed on to the dash, his seat belt tightening, his injuries screaming at him.

“She’s not at Siren Song,” Mac informed him tersely as he hung up.

“Where is she?”

“Mad Maddie’s motel? Know where that is? She said it was north of Deception Bay on a ridge.”

“I got a good idea,” Hudson said tersely.

“Lead the way,” Mac muttered, phoning for backup and praying the damn cell phone would make a connection.

Her screams useless, Becca ran as fast as she could around the building toward the rental car. Her keys were still in the ignition and if…

Oh, God, she heard his footsteps pounding behind her. He was running fast, gaining on her.

Heavy footsteps chased her down.

Closer.

Faster.

Oh, dear God, help me! Help my baby!

She willed her legs to move, but she was losing ground. She’d been crazy to come looking for him, should have known he’d get the upper hand. You’re not dead yet, she told herself and saw the fence in front of her. With missing pickets, like a gap-tooth smile, it was still a barrier. Could she vault over it or would she have to find the gate? Where was the damned opening?

She spied a break in the graying pickets and turned.

Too late!

He leapt through the air, his heavy body catching her and driving her to the ground. She hit hard, her jaw banging into the sand, grit on her lips and tongue. “Stupid woman,” he snarled, yanking her to her feet.

She was a rag doll in his arms, head lolling, blood staining her sleeve a dark red.

He shook her. Hard. Lips pulled back in a triumphant grin.

“Finally! Finally, I have you!”

Becca couldn’t move. She felt played out. Spent. Done.

His evil face glared into hers. “Nothing to say, bitch?” He hauled his right hand back and slapped her.

My baby, she thought. My baby. Have to save my baby…

As if reading her mind, he snarled, “That abomination will die before it is born. You will all die. I’ve been waiting. Waiting! And now the time is right.”

“Please…”

“That’s right. Beg. It will do you no good. The devil’s own will be returned to him. Now!”

No way was Hudson going to sit in the car like a trained dog while Becca’s life was in danger. No effin’ way!

Nor was Mac waiting for backup. He parked his Jeep on a stretch of road less than a quarter of a mile from the cabins, and with strict instructions for Hudson to wait for the sheriff’s department, he slid into the night.

Hudson gave him thirty seconds, then checked the glove box and lo and behold, there was Mac’s backup weapon. Perfect. He checked the chamber. It was loaded.

He wasn’t going to wait for the damned backup.

Not with Becca’s life in danger.

Not with his unborn kid’s life at risk.

Sliding the heavy sidearm into his waistband, he stole into the night, circling around the north end of the property, spying Mac, barely discernible in the security lights near the front porch.

He crouched along a broken fence line, his finger on the trigger. Tonight, that son of a bitch who’d been terrorizing Becca was going to die.

She had to move. Had to! The knife was still in his hand though he seemed intent on shaking some truth from her.

He glared down at her, enjoying the capture. “Nothing to say?” he whispered.

She flung herself forward, intending to bite him but he held her back, then turned her roughly around, pressing her back against him, the knife blade cutting into her throat. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you, slut? I knew you’d come. Just like Jezebel. You’re so much the same.”

Terrified, she tried to think of a way to escape, any avenue that would set her free.

“Have you learned the truth yet?” he hissed in her ear. “Like she did? That she came from incest. Father and daughter! You, too, fucking whore!”

Becca tried to speak but she felt the knife at her throat break skin. A thin trickle of blood ran down her neck.

He was holding her fast to him, his chest pressed hard to her back. She hardly dared breathe, couldn’t risk moving as they stood on the cliff face, the piercing wind whirling and yowling around them, the black ocean frothing and raging below. Just as it was in your visions. As if this is your destiny.

“She was pregnant with her vile child, just as you are,” he whispered.

His enjoyment sent rage flowing through her, but she needed to keep him talking.

“Renee?” she managed.

“That slut was asking questions around town, a tell-all book about the sickness at Siren Song.”

“What sickness?” The blade pressed, cold on her throat.

“You know, whore. You know.”

She shuddered. It was as if she were being held by the devil himself. “No…truly…I don’t know.”

“Jezebel and Rebecca are the most foul,” he intoned, as if it were a litany he said to himself often. “They can never be allowed to breed, to continue the cycle. Jezebel came to Siren Song and learned. That’s how I found her. I smelled the fetus within her. That’s why she had to die.”

Becca was shivering, the wind slapping at them, the salt in the air sticking to her skin. “You killed her in the maze,” she said unevenly.

“Jezebel thought she had me, but I had planned to kill her all along and leave her at the base of the statue that bears her abominable mother’s name.”

“Mary?”

“She could see things,” he said with the faintest hint of admiration. “So can you.”

“So can you,” Becca said, recalling how he’d seen Jessie’s vision on the road.

“It won’t work,” he suddenly said. He leaned closer and licked the inside of her ear. “It never does, sister, I always win.”

Her stomach convulsed and she nearly threw up.

But then he shifted slightly, the knife slipping just a fraction. Becca’s fury took over. She kicked backward as hard as she could, then reached behind her and wrenched his balls in a death squeeze.

“Bitch!” he howled in surprise, his grip loosening. He doubled over in pain.

Hudson counted the seconds. One…two…three… Sweat was building on his back beneath his jacket. He had to get to Becca. Had to save her and their child. They were all he had. All he wanted and if this prick so much as harmed one hair on her head.

But he was scared to his soul. This madman was relentless and focused on Becca.

“Bitch!”

The shout roared through the night.

Mac yelled something but Hudson didn’t hear. He jumped to his feet and ran blindly forward, hand hard on the gun.

He was gonna blow the sucker away.

Becca clung to Justice but he beat on her with his fists. She couldn’t breathe. Had to let go. He was swearing and flinging his arms. His knife slammed downward, gouging into her thigh. She cried out.

Bang!

A shot shattered the night.

Justice, with a scream louder than the wind, fell to the ground, writhing.

What? Oh, God, what’s happening?

Becca spun, her leg burning. She was staring straight at Hudson, one arm in a sling, a large pistol in his right hand. He walked forward quickly, the nose of the gun aimed directly at Justice’s slithering and twisting form. Hudson’s face was a mask of fury, his eyes dark with murder, as if he intended to empty every round in the gun into the man who had nearly killed Becca.