"Probably we picked a bad time," Jamie said. "I could try to set something up when it's more convenient. Get my photographer out here and do it up right."
"Do I look like someone who would agree to have his picture taken?" Swamp Dog said.
Jamie shrugged. "Why not?"
"Stop messing with me, lady, and go inside."
Max and Jamie walked a rickety plank that led from the riverbank to his boat.
"This way," Swamp Dog ordered.
They both headed toward the door leading to the cabin. The room was dirty and smelled of dirty clothes and rotted food.
"Sit." He motioned toward a sofa.
Jamie was almost afraid to sit on the rumpled sofa, but she was more afraid of the gun. Max joined her. She looked around. "Uh, nice place."
"Yeah, I was going for a Martha Stewart look." Swamp Dog took a chair opposite them and reached for a pad and pencil from a rickety table. He tossed them to Jamie whose hands were trembling so badly she missed. Max picked them up and handed them to her.
"So, what do you want to know?" the man said. "Think carefully 'cause I'm gonna get pissed if you ask the wrong question."
Jamie straightened on the sofa, trying to appear professional as she tried to think of what to ask him that wouldn't make him angry. He looked ominous with the black patch over his eye, and she avoided looking into his face. "Okay, let's start at the beginning," she said, sounding more confident than she felt. "Could I get your real name?"
Swamp Dog fired a shot two inches from her head. Jamie dove toward Max.
"What the hell?" Max said. "Why'd you do that?"
"I don't like answering personal questions."
Jamie tried to swallow. "Okay, okay, I understand the rules now," she said, trying to think of something that wouldn't send him over the edge. Rumor was right; the man had definitely lost it. She would keep the interview light and superficial.
"Perhaps we could discuss your hobbies. Do you garden?"
"What?" he and Max asked in unison.
"That's the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me," Swamp Dog said. "Do I look like a gardener?"
"Jesus, Jamie," Max said under his breath.
She looked from one to the other. "Well, excuse the heck out of me," she snapped, "but it's not easy conducting an interview at gunpoint. I'm trying to do a job here, and I don't appreciate rudeness. I'm hot and tired and hungry. I traveled all this way just to ask this, this, person a few questions, and this is how I'm treated? Forget the interview." She tossed the pad of paper aside and reached for her purse.
"Hold it right there," Swamp Dog said.
"I'm getting a cigarette, okay?" She reached for her pack and lighter. In the distance she heard a small-engine airplane and suspected they were spraying for mosquitoes. She wished she were on it.
"I don't permit smoking in my place."
Jamie glanced around at the filth. "You're kidding, right?" At the same time, she noted he was becoming more agitated. Swamp Dog obviously didn't like the sound of small planes. Maybe it made him think of other things he wanted to forget.
"You're really starting to piss me off," he said. "I don't like mouthy broads." He raised his gun slowly.
"I'm not a broad, and I don't appreciate—"
"Shut up!" Swamp Dog seemed to have difficultly breathing, and his eyes took on a wild look as the plane closed in on them. He looked disoriented; nevertheless, he pulled back the hammer and aimed his gun. The plane swooped low.
Max glanced toward the window. "Everybody down," he yelled.
Swamp Dog automatically swung around and trained the gun on the plane as it bore down on the water, causing the houseboat to vibrate as a cloud of insect spray filled the air. "Those bastards," he muttered.
In one fluid move, Max was off the sofa. He kicked the gun from Swamp Dog's hand. It hit the floor and fired. Swamp Dog, still dazed, dove for it, but Max was faster. He grabbed the pistol, put a chokehold on the older man and held the gun to his head. The plane went on.
"Okay, you rude son of a bitch. I'm about to teach you some manners."
"Screw you, Holt."
Max blinked. "You know who I am?"
Swamp Dog smiled, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Surprised?"
"Who are you working for?"
"I don't have to tell you anything, man. And I'm not afraid of being shot, so go for it."
"Go ahead and kill him," Jamie said. "We can say it was self-defense."
"I'm more interested in getting answers out of him at the moment," Max told her, not taking his eyes off the man. "Somebody is paying you to go after my brother-in-law. You tried to kill Jamie and me. Why?"
He looked smug. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."
Max sat back on his heels but kept the gun aimed at Swamp Dog's head. "I like confidence in a man."
"I guess that makes us best friends."
"We don't have to be friends, pal, but I'm prepared to offer you a job with a nice paycheck. I want you to be part of what I call my special projects team. Immediately," he added. "Your first job would consist of protecting a friend of mine."
"Frankie Fontana. He already has a security team in place."
"Yeah, and they aren't doing a very good job. I need someone I can count on to keep Frankie and his wife safe. If you accept the job I'll deposit a nice chunk of money into an account in your name."
"And if I refuse?"
Max shrugged. "Then you're not as smart as I thought you were." He tossed the gun aside and got up.
Swamp Dog came to his feet and grabbed the gun. "You just signed your death warrant, Holt."
"Some genius you are, Max," Jamie muttered. "If he wasn't going to kill us before, he'll certainly do it now. And what do you think he'll do with our bodies? Throw them to the alligators, of course. Have you ever seen what a gator can do to a man?"
He shook his head. "Have you?"
"No, but I've heard. They drag the victim beneath the water and drown him. They don't eat the body for a few days."
Swamp Dog laughed. "It's worse than that, Miss Swift. I've seen it firsthand. And enjoyed every moment of it if I might say so."
They both stared at him.
"Relax," Max said finally. "He's not going to shoot us. He would have already done it by now." He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a business card, and placed it on the table beside the chair where Swamp Dog had been sitting. "Call me when you're ready to make a deal."
Jamie held her breath as Max led her from the boat. Swamp Dog was probably a good enough shot that he would kill her instantly. She wouldn't have to suffer or die slowly while copperheads and God-knows-what slithered across her body. She wouldn't have to live under the same roof as Annabelle Standish.
They crossed the plank leading off the boat Nothing. She could feel Swamp Dog's eyes on her.
"Keep walking," Max said.
The swamp was bathed in shadow as they made their way back. A bullfrog croaked nearby, birds called out to one another. Jamie waded through the water, keeping an eye out for anything that moved.
"Are you okay?" Max asked.
"Fine, except for the fact you almost got us killed."
"Me? You're the one who mouthed off."
"He's a sick man, shooting just over my head if I asked the wrong question. It reminded me of an old western, where the bad guy shoots bullets at someone's feet in order to make them dance. I refuse to be treated like that. I'd rather they just shoot me and get it over with. You wouldn't have put up with it, either, Max."
He was quiet.
"Would you?"
"It depends. If I were the only one involved, then no. If I were trying to protect someone I cared about, I'd probably go along with it until I could think of a way out."
Jamie was thoughtful as they walked on. "Do you think he's the one after us?"
Max shrugged. "He knew who we were. And he's cagey enough to outsmart Frankie's security men."
Jamie looked at h
im. "I don't understand. Why didn't he kill us back there? He had the perfect opportunity."
"It would have been too easy. The man is a hunter. A predator. We were easy targets; there was no challenge. He's also been in the military, and like you said, probably served in a special unit."
"I don't actually know that for a fact. I don't even know if he was in the military. Probably just another rumor."
"Did you notice the table beside his chair? It was partially covered with oilcloth, but it was a footlocker. There was a name on it. J. Hodges."
"Finally, we have a name."
"Swamp Dog, I mean Hodges, is just the triggerman. He's cunning and mean, but he's not exactly an Einstein. I'm more interested in finding the one who hired him."
"You weren't serious about offering him a job."
"Dead serious."
"Why, for Pete's sake?"
"I can't keep an eye on the man way out here. I want him close enough so I can watch him."
"Dang, Max, you'll put us all in danger."
"Trust me on this one, okay? Swamp Dog is just a player in a much bigger game that obviously involves a lot of money. The person behind him is smarter and more dangerous."
"You're keeping something from me. What is it?"
"Muffin and I are still looking. I'll let you know when I have something."
Jamie had so many unanswered questions. She grew up in Beaumont, went to school with a number of people who now ran the city. She attended weddings and funerals, watched her friends have babies, and she didn't want to think any of them were thieves.
"You're awfully quiet," Max said.
"I have a lot to think about."
They arrived at the boat. Jamie climbed in and Max shoved it away from the shore. He paddled a short distance and tested the water with his oar to make certain it was safe to drop the motor. He reached for the cord and pulled. Nothing happened. He tried again without success.
Jamie glanced back. "What's wrong?"
He shrugged. "Damned if I know. We aren't out of gas, I switched to a new tank shortly before we got here. I don't think the gas is getting to the motor." He looked closer. "What the hell?"
"What is it?"
Max held up a black hose leading to the motor. "It has been cut."
Jamie gaped at him. "Who would do that?"
"Obviously somebody who didn't want us to extend our visit to Swamp Dog."
She glanced around frantically, but all she could see were trees and brush. "They could be watching us," she said quietly.
Max followed her gaze. "I don't see anybody, but that doesn't mean they aren't there." He reached for the oars. "The sooner we get out of here the better."
"Don't tell me you're going to row all the way back."
"What choice do we have?"
Jamie tried to think. "It's going to take forever."
Max continued to row, his eyes cautiously taking in the wooded area. "Check inside the seats and see if there is any tape I can use to repair the hose."
Jamie did as she was told. She lifted the lid on one seat and found a tackle box filled with lures and rusty hooks. The next seat held a couple of blankets that looked as though they hadn't been washed in years. "Oh, Jeez, there's a dead fish in here. No wonder the boat smells." She found a rusted ice pick, speared the fish and tossed it into the water.
Max, in the process of looking beneath his own seat, glanced up. "I wish you hadn't done that," he said, as the fish floated to the surface.
"It's disgusting."
"There are worse things."
"Yeah, like these nasty blankets. I can't believe my friend let this boat go to pot like he did. I'm surprised it still floats." She sighed. "Sorry, no tape." She continued to glance around uneasily as she talked. "Do you think Swamp Dog cut the hose? He would know shortcuts through the swamp. He could have found the boat, cut the hose and been out of here by the time we arrived back."
"That's a possibility," Max said.
"That would explain why he didn't kill us. He'd rather watch us die out here in the swamp."
"We're not going to die. You're with me, kiddo, and it just so happens I know a few survival skills."
"Oh, yeah, right. Like carrying your Visa Gold in case the restaurant doesn't accept American Express."
"You underestimate me."
Suddenly, something slammed against the boat. Jamie gasped and bolted to her feet. The boat rocked hard to one side.
"Sit down!" Max yelled. "It's a damn alligator."
Jamie tried to catch her balance but over-corrected. The boat veered to one side, dumping her into the river. She screamed.
Max saw the gator go for her. No time to pull her from the water. "Be still and shut up," he said, bringing the oar high in the air. The alligator was less than three feet from Jamie when Max brought it down on his wide snout. Jamie screamed again as the animal thrashed about. Max slammed the oar harder, aiming for the creature's eyes. The gator became still and sank beneath the surface.
Fear robbed Jamie of all logic. She was certain the alligator was right beside her; she could only imagine the horror of having him sink his teeth into her leg and pull her under. Frantically, she tried to pull herself up into the boat. "Let me help you," Max yelled. "You're going to—"
Too late. The small vessel flipped to its side and immediately began to fill with water. Max jumped into the river. It came to his shoulders. "Calm down," he ordered, reaching for Jamie. "We have to get to shore." He literally dragged her the short distance to the riverbank. She plopped onto the grass and gulped back the tears she felt forming behind her eyes.
"Jesus H. Christ, did you see the size of that thing?"
Max could see she was on the verge of hysteria, but he had to get the supplies from the boat before it went under. "Stay put." He grabbed a short but thick stick and started into the water. If the alligator or one of his relatives showed up, he might stand a fighting chance.
Jamie jumped to her feet. "Max, don't go back out there!" she cried. "He'll kill you." When he continued toward the boat, she stamped one foot. "Dammit, Max, are you going to force me to stand here and watch you get eaten alive by that damn gator? This is the most selfish thing you've ever done next to almost getting blown up by dynamite. Would you please try to keep my purse from getting wet? My cigarettes are inside."
Jamie watched the water closely for signs of movement as Max waded toward the boat. Hopefully, he had done enough physical damage to the alligator to drive it away. She knew that, for the most part, alligators avoided humans unless they were accustomed to being fed by them. But there were rogue gators who feared nothing and would sooner snap a man's head off than look at him. She spied a turtle sunning on a log nearby and wondered if she should try to catch it. They might have to cook it if they became stranded for any length of time. As though it had read her mind, the turtle slipped into the water and disappeared.
Max reached the boat. Jamie watched him grab as much as he could before hurrying back to shore, holding the items high to keep them from getting wet. Back on shore, he dumped everything out of the ice chest.
"What are you doing?" Jamie demanded.
"Trying to save the boat from sinking."
"You're not going back out there! Tell me you're not—" But he was already gone, and once again, she stood there feeling helpless. She watched him scoop water from the boat, using the ice chest like a bucket. He'd only managed to dip out a small amount before Jamie spied what looked to be a huge log floating in his direction. She knew better.
"Get out of the water, Max!"
Max looked in the direction in which she pointed.
Jamie knew he was trying to gauge the distance between himself and the alligator, see how much water he could dip out of the boat before it got close enough. The man was either an idiot or on a suicide mission.
"Get out of the water, Max! It's coming straight after you. He's big!" She suspected Max had seriously injured the other alligator and this one smelled fresh blood,
just as the dead fish had brought on the first one.
"I swear to God!" Jamie cried. "If you don't get out of that river I'm coming in after you." Her heart was pounding in her chest like war drums. She glanced around for a stick or a rock. She remembered her metal fingernail file. She dumped everything from her purse and plucked the file from her personal stash. She started into the river.
Max glanced her way, found her waist high in water, and muttered a line of expletives. "Get back to shore!" he ordered. "I'm coming in." He swam away from the boat and caught up with her on the riverbank. "Are you crazy?" he yelled.
"Not as crazy as you."
"What's that?" he asked, checking her hand. "A fingernail file?" He looked incredulous. "You were going to kill a ten-foot alligator with a fingernail file?"
"I had to do something since you were too stupid to get out of the damn water."
"I was trying to save the boat. How do you think we're going to get out of here without a boat?"
"I've had nothing but trouble since the day you hit town. People try to kill me every time I turn around." She was so angry she didn't feel the tears roll down her cheeks.
"You're crying."
"I am not crying! I'm releasing stress. This is the only way I know how to do it without taking off your head."
One side of his mouth twitched.
"You know, you're damn cute with your wet hair slicked back, and your clothes plastered to you. This might not be a bad thing, the two of us stranded out here like this. We can finally explore our feelings for each other."
Jamie gaped at him. It was hard to know if he was serious because of the teasing glint in his dark eyes. "I don't believe this," she said. She pressed her hands against her temple; half afraid she would lose her mind if he said another word.
"Face it, Jamie, you're stuck with me. At least until we get out of this place. You could do worse, you know. You could be stuck out here with Phillip."
"That's not one bit funny. Phillip would manage perfectly in a situation like this." Jamie paused.
"Oh, no."
"What?"
They both stared. In the few minutes they'd spent arguing, the boat had filled with water and was barely visible. Beside it, the alligator waited.