She stiffened. Something was wrong. She felt it. The hair on the back of her neck was tingling.

*   *   *

“THERE’S SOMEONE OVER there in the trees.” Joe grabbed Eve’s arm and pulled her to a halt. His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s Catherine.” He froze. “Oh, shit.”

She could see why he was cursing as she saw the tall man in the wet suit directly behind Catherine. Nothing could be clearer than that he was on the attack.

“I can’t get a clear shot,” Joe said with frustration as he put his gun down. “He’s right behind her. I’ll shoot her, dammit.” He moved to the side. “I’ll see if I can get him from another angle. Don’t call out and startle him. I don’t want to have him move on her before I can get my shot.”

If there was enough time.

It was going to be Catherine, Eve realized in agony. Catherine was the one who was going to die. And Eve had to stand there and watch it happen. She couldn’t even cry out and warn her.

But Catherine had been with Gallo in the bayou. Why wasn’t he there?

Dammit, where was Gallo?

*   *   *

THROW THE KNIFE.

Gallo’s hand was frozen on the hilt.

He had to move, but he couldn’t do it. Not this time.

It was as if everything were happening in slow motion.

He could see Catherine stiffening and knew 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, his knife raised.

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 in the holster 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 from the bank.

It gave her enough time to roll away and get her knife out of the 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.

A shot.

Missed.

Then he was in the water. He reached out and jerked out the dagger piercing his hand, and threw it aside as 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 jumped 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. “He’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, 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.

*   *   *

SHE LISTENED AGAIN. She thought she heard the sound of moving water to the north.

To hell with staying and waiting for him to come after her. Go on the attack. She started swimming toward the sound.

“No!” Gallo was suddenly beside her. “Let him go. Do you want to get killed? He almost had you.”

“Let him go? Screw that. Listen. Do you hear him?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

And she didn’t either. He was gone. Or it could have been Gallo that she had heard.

“He’s wounded. He’s losing blood. He could be getting weaker,” she said. “But did you see him tear your knife out of his hand? He acted as if he didn’t even feel it.”

“Adrenaline. He’ll feel it later.” He started swimming toward the north. “I’ll see if I can zone in on him. You go back to shore and take Quinn and Eve in the car and see if he comes ashore again farther up the road. He’d be crazy to stay in the water with the blood attracting gators.”

“That’s what I told Joe. He may already be on the road.”

“Or he may not. You don’t want Quinn to come into the bayou after him. He may have been a SEAL, but I’d think you’d be worried about him having a relapse or getting an infection.”

She was worried because that would be Joe’s first instinct. He was going to be frustrated as hell because he hadn’t been able to pick off Jacobs’s killer.

Who had almost been her killer.

She nodded. “I agree he’ll probably try to come to shore again. It would be the smartest thing to do since he’s wounded.”

“Then go back and stop him.”

She shot him a glance. “You don’t want me here. Why?”

He turned away. “I can do it by myself.”

She stiffened. “So can I.”

“Then suit yourself. You’ll do what you have to do anyway.”

He swam off and was lost in the mist.

She was alone again.

He doesn’t care whether you live or die.

She hesitated, then started swimming in the same direction that Gallo had vanished.

Every few yards, she’d stop, listen, and swim again. At the end of forty-five minutes she was discouraged and frustrated. She was hearing nothing but the common sounds of the swamp, birds, insects, and occasionally something more heavy and threatening.

Alligator?

“Dammit, give up.” Gallo suddenly emerged out of the mist. His lips tight, his eyes glittering with anger. “I just saw a gator up ahead slipping off the bank out of the weeds. It’s enough that one of us is out here.”

“And why should it be you?” She glared at him. “Alligators follow the blood scent. Maybe we can follow him to the bastard. His wounded hand was—” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Get away from me. My feet have a few cuts from walking barefoot in that palmetto grove, and I was bleeding. I may still be bleeding. That killer isn’t the only one who will be attracting alligators. I didn’t even think of those damn cuts.” She turned and started swimming away from him toward the bank. “Stay away from me, Gallo.”