“Wait. I’ll go with you.”

“Finish your coffee.” Eve was already at the door. “Judy said there was no way he could catch up with Gallo.”

“She doesn’t know Joe.” She joined Eve as she reached the hall. “I wouldn’t want him after me. He’s a driven—” She broke off as Judy opened the basement door.

Joe was not with her.

Eve stiffened. “You didn’t find him down there, Judy?”

She shook her head. “He found a hatchet among the tools down there and broke the lock on the exit door. There’s a passage that leads underneath the courtyard and down the mountain. John always left a vehicle in the trees about a quarter mile down the path. Your Joe Quinn is somewhere in the passage or already on the mountain path.” She paused. “I had to call Bill Hanks to go after him.”

Eve’s heart skipped a beat. “Why? You said John told you to make sure there was no conflict between them. You’re putting them in a hunt-and-chase position. That’s asking for trouble.”

Judy shrugged. “He was going after John. I couldn’t run the risk of him catching him. I told Hanks to try to be careful. But nothing is going to happen to John.” She looked Eve straight in the eye. “You have your priorities, I have mine. Too bad if your Joe Quinn gets hurt. If he’d stayed here, he would have been fine.”

It was all very simple for Judy, Eve realized. If John Gallo was threatened, then Judy would cause the sky to fall to get him out of trouble. She wouldn’t care who else was hurt. Eve started for the basement door. “You get on the phone and get Hanks off Joe’s trail.”

“Where you going?” Judy asked warily.

“I’m going to find Joe. If you want to obey John’s orders to keep me safe, you’d better make sure Hanks backs off because I’m going to be with Joe.”

“No.” Judy took an impulsive step toward her. “You can’t get in—”

“But she can,” Catherine said softly. She gave Judy a look that stopped her in her tracks. “And you’d better back off, too, and do what she says.” She was following Eve down the basement stairs. “Then you can go to your cozy little kitchen, have one of your dandy ‘store-bought’ doughnuts, and wait for the flak to settle.”

*   *   *

TIRE TRACKS.

Joe dropped to his knees and examined the marks to the side of the trail. Fresh tracks. The driver was in a hurry. He had peeled onto the road. Heavy truck or van, probably an off-road vehicle.

How fresh? He listened, tuning out the night sounds. The sound of an engine, faint but …

Yes.

And that driver had to be John Gallo.

He felt a rush of fierce satisfaction.

He jumped to his feet and scrambled up on the shoulder of the slope, drawing his gun. Damn I wish I had my rifle. But his Beretta had a fairly long range for a handgun. It might be enough if he could get close enough to shoot out one of the back tires.

He ran to the top of the incline.

A Jeep Cherokee, descending the twisting mountain road, was coming into view around the curve a short distance below him. Not short enough for Joe. Gallo would have to come around the next curve at an angle closer to where Joe stood for him to use the Beretta.

That meant Joe had to get at least fifty feet down the mountain to reach that next twisting level of the road.

He threw himself off road. He skidded down the loosely packed rocks of the slope, falling, picking himself up, and skidding again.

Twenty feet.

He slipped and rolled down the incline until he was stopped by some low shrubs.

He caught his breath and jumped up.

Ten more feet.

Not as slippery as the incline above. No falls.

He was there.

And Gallo was coming around the curve only twenty feet below him!

He had him.

Go slow. He had maybe a minute until Gallo was out of sight again. The shot had to be right. He aimed carefully at the right-rear tire.

He started to squeeze the trigger.

Pain.

His arm jerked as a bullet tore through his forearm!

Shit.

Not from Gallo.

The shot had come from above.

Rage tore through him as he saw Gallo disappear around the curve.

Another shot. Grazing his ear. He had to get out from the middle of the road and into the pine trees on the slope.

He glanced up the mountain as he dove into the trees.

Two men. One short, thin, the other taller and burly. They were separating, fading into the trees on the slope, and coming down the mountain after him.

Good.

He was bleeding. He took off his shirt, tore it in two, and wrapped one piece tightly around his forearm. Now forget it and go on the hunt.

*   *   *

WHERE WAS THE BASTARD? Hanks wondered. He knew he’d hit him with that first bullet.

Hanks’s phone vibrated.

“He’s disappeared,” Brock whispered. “Dammit, Hanks, I’ve searched this slope, and he’s not here. Did you see him? Maybe he’s unconscious or something and fell off the slope.”

“No, keep looking.” He was uneasy. Quinn was more than they’d bargained for. He’d been seconds away from putting a bullet into Gallo’s Jeep, and now they couldn’t locate him. “I saw him go into those trees, and he’s wounded. He can’t be moving fast.”

“All I can say is that I haven’t seen him, I haven’t heard him and I’m damn spooked about— Shit!”

Hanks stiffened. “Brock? Are you—”

The sound of metal on shale. Brock’s phone dropping? He didn’t know, but he’d better get over there.

Fast.

When he reached him, Brock was lying crumpled on the ground.

Dead? No time to check. Hanks moved into the trees, his gaze searching the darkness.

“Quinn,” he called. “This isn’t necessary. We don’t want to kill you. We had orders to stop you, and we did it. Give up, and we’ll talk. That’s all I—”

Quinn dropped down from the trees, knocking him to the ground.

Hanks struggled desperately beneath Quinn’s weight, trying to position his gun to fire.

“No way.” Quinn’s left arm was around his neck, jerking his head back. “Now we’ll talk.” His voice was low, fierce. “Tell me where Gallo was heading.”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not the answer I want to hear. I’ll give you thirty seconds, then I’ll break your neck.”

“I don’t know. John never told—”

“Fifteen seconds.” Joe jerked Hanks’s head back farther and angled it. “I’m pissed. Can you tell? I’m not—”

“Let him go, Joe.” Eve Duncan came into his line of sight. “You don’t want to do this.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“Then I don’t want you to do this,” she said. “Everything is crazy, but I don’t want more violence added to the pot.” She suddenly saw the bloody shirt wrapped around Joe’s arm. “And you’re hurt, dammit.”

“Let him go.” Catherine stepped out of the shadows, her gun aimed at Hanks. “I’ll take care of it. He won’t be a problem.”

Joe hesitated, then reluctantly released Hanks’s neck. “He’s already been a problem.” He got off Hanks. “I would have been able to stop Gallo if he hadn’t interfered. I had that Jeep in my sights.”

“And John’s Jeep might have gone off the road and tumbled down to the valley,” Hanks said as he sat up and scooted quickly away from Joe.

“I was aiming at the right tire. Gallo could have controlled the Jeep if he didn’t lose his head. I didn’t want him dead … yet.” He turned to Catherine. “You said you’d take care of him. Get him out of my sight. My arm’s hurting like hell, and I want to make him hurt, too.”

Catherine gestured with the gun. “Move, Hanks. I need to get you away from here.”

Hanks didn’t move. “Did you kill Brock, Quinn?”

“Brock?” Joe gave him a cold glance. “He’s the other one with you? No, I had to work quickly, and I didn’t want to shoot and give away my position. He’ll be waking up soon.”

Hanks felt a rush of relief. He had had an idea that they had barely tapped the skilled savagery in Quinn, and they’d been lucky. Damn lucky. “Then I want to take him back with me.”