“And you found me.”

“I found you.”

“But you couldn’t know if Etienne had told you the truth about Bendy’s skull.” Hebert shook his head. “I thought I knew him well enough to know if he was lying about it—although he’d managed to fool me for two years. I could only hope.” He paused. “But after you became ill, I knew that either Bently or Simmons must still be alive. One of them wanted you dead, so that no one would know that he was still alive and working on the fuel cells. I questioned Marie Letaux that night before she died, but she genuinely had no idea who had hired her. She got a phone call and then money in her mailbox, and the promise of a final payment when she’d done the job.

She kept saying that it was only supposed to make you ill. That it wasn’t her fault.” He shrugged. “She was no help to me. I had to wait until you’d finished the reconstruction to find out which one had hired her.”

“How did you find out the skull was Bently’s?”

“A mole in Rusk’s FBI office. Jennings told Rusk right before he died that your reconstruction was definitely Bently. All hell broke loose after Jennings was killed; it was easy enough to pick up the info.”

“Then your mole must have found out what Jennings discovered about Boca Raton. What was it?”

Hebert smiled faintly as he shook his head. “So that you can ride to the rescue?

You still think you’re going to live through this, don’t you? I’ve always found that no one really believes they’re going to die until they do. I assure you, Eve, if I told you what was going to happen, you still wouldn’t be able to save the old tiger. The plan’s already in motion, and calculated down to the last gasp.”

“Then you shouldn’t mind telling me.”

“But I do. Life still has to have some mysteries. You’d only fret, and your last moments should be worry-free.”

“You’re not worry-free. Even if you kill me, you’re still going to have to contend with Simmons.”

“I’ll find him. I know who I’m looking for now. It’s difficult for a man to hide in this world, particularly if the Cabal is looking for him.” Hebert’s glance shifted again to the bayou, and he moved to the edge of the platform. “Quinn’s been a long time.

I’m beginning to wonder if I should—”

He shrieked.

A machete blade had bitten through the bone and sinew of the hand holding his gun. The weapon dropped from his almost-severed right hand, and Eve dove across the deck to get it.

“No!” Joe spat out the reed between his teeth. “Stay away from him.” He lunged up from the mud beside the platform, grabbed Hebert’s knees, and jerked him backward into the mud.

Hebert was struggling desperately. She suddenly saw a glint of metal in his left hand.

Oh, God, Hebert had a knife. And Joe had thrown his weapon at him.

Eve lifted the gun to aim at Hebert, but the two men were rolling, sinking, fighting in the watery mud. She might hit Joe.

She jumped off the deck into the mud and waded toward them.

“Joe, get away from him for a minute. I can’t—”

Hebert’s knife was gone, sent spinning into the mud by a blow from the edge of Joe’s hand.

And then Joe was on top of Hebert. His hands closed in a stranglehold on Hebert’s throat. He pushed his head under the mud and held him there. Hebert’s arms and legs flailed helplessly as he struggled for breath. The mud was suffocating him.

“Joe,” Eve whispered.

For an instant she wasn’t sure he had heard her, and when he glanced sideways she flinched at the sheer blind ferocity she saw in his expression.

Joe drew a deep breath, and then his grasp strengthened and she heard a snap as he broke Hebert’s neck.

He released Hebert, stood, and stepped back. “I expected a harder time with him.”

“Why?” Eve drew a shaky breath. “You almost severed his hand when you threw that machete.”

“He was pointing a gun at you.”

She shivered as she stared down at Jules Hebert lying in the mud, his face submerged beneath the surface.

“Did he hurt you?”

Eve turned to look at Joe. Covered with mud, he was still almost as terrifying a figure as the creature that had lunged out of that muck and unleashed a spearhead of death, blood, and violence.

“Dammit, did he hurt you?” Joe repeated.

“He didn’t touch me. How about you?”

“A few bruises. Not that you could tell under all this mud. You’re almost as muddy as I am. Why the hell didn’t you stay out of it?” Because she couldn’t stand by when she saw him in danger. “He had a knife.”

“Did I look like I was helpless?”

No, he had looked absolutely terrifying. She tried to smile. “You reminded me of Swamp Thing.”

“That’s what I feel like.” Joe grasped Eve’s shoulders and glared down at her.

“You listen to me. Never again. This is the last time I’ll let you risk your neck. I can’t take it. Screw women’s lib.“ He turned, waded through the mud toward Hebert’s canoe, and crawled into it. ”I’ll be right back. I’m going to take Hebert’s canoe around the bend to where I left Dufour’s motorboat. We’ll go back to town and clean up.“

“What happened to Dufour?”

“He won’t bother us anymore.”

I was a killing machine. I could be again.

Eve shivered, and her glance shifted to Hebert. “And what will we do about him?”

“Let him rot.” Joe grimaced. “Okay, I know. I’m an insensitive bastard about the dear departed. We’ll tell the police in Houma where we left him.”

“Not yet.”

“No? That’s a surprise.”

“The Cabal doesn’t know that he’s dead and we’re alive. It may buy us time before they send anyone else after us.”

“Did he tell you anything about what was happening in Boca Raton?”

“Not much.” Yet Hebert had said something… Surely there was some fragment of sense in his words that she could examine. “Maybe. He said something about a tiger and us not being able to stop it. That it had all been planned down to the last gasp.” She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. I can’t think.” Joe studied her. “I don’t like the way you’re shaking.”

“I’m just cold.”

“Chilled and shocked and wet to the bone. October is no time to take a mud bath.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a sensitive nerve in my body.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You really aren’t feeling yourself if you’re giving me credit for tender feelings.

I’ve got to get you back to the hotel and a hot shower.” Joe’s paddle cut into the water. “Don’t move a muscle.”

Easy to say. It seemed that every muscle in Eve’s body was trembling with cold and fatigue. She should try to think, but her mind was just as dulled as her body.

Fight it. There wasn’t much time. Try to think what Hebert had said.

Tiger. Something about a tiger and his last gasp. That meant death, a killing. Why couldn’t she remember?

She had to remember, or Hebert’s death would mean nothing. He would still win and the killing would go on.

There wasn’t much time.

Joe turned on the shower and pushed Eve naked under the warm spray. Another moment and he was in the shower with her, soaping her hair with shampoo.

“I can do it. Take care of yourself.”

“Shut up.” He soaped her body from shoulders to feet and then pushed her to the front of the shower to rinse off. “Just stand there and let the water warm you while I get some of the dirt off me.”

“No time. Have to think. Someone’s going to die, Joe.”

“I know. You told me in the boat coming here. Several times.”

“Did I? I hate death. I hate it.”

“I know you do.”

“I don’t understand killers like Hebert. He didn’t care about the death of anyone, except for his brother. It didn’t matter to him about other people who have fathers or brothers or little girls…”

“Shh. Are you warmer now?”

“He was going to kill Jane and my mother. Two wonderful lives just snuffed—”

“Are you warmer?”

He had asked that before. She thought about it. The shaking was gone and so was that icy lethargy. “Yes.”