No sign of the driver of the truck.
She’d been listening and hadn’t heard anyone come out of the bayou.
But she might not have been able to hear him. She didn’t have quite as keen perceptions as Gallo. And he had said this creep was good. She trusted Gallo’s judgment.
When it didn’t concern his damned chauvinistic attitude toward her.
She stopped. She’d been tempted to check out the license plate and the glove box of the truck. Not smart. Better to wait and do all that later. Now she should wait and watch and listen.
Not much watching with this fog, but she could listen.
No sound.
The fog had come in again, and the truck was only a hazy outline before her. But she’d probably have company soon. Just wait and pounce when he came on the bank.
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?
* * *
THANK GOD, THAT BASTARD WAS moving slow, Joe thought as he ran quickly through the brush. He just had to hope that nothing would startle him into leaping forward toward Catherine.
But the angle where he was standing now was still bad for an accurate shot, and he couldn’t get closer because the bank curved there.
The cypress tree. He should have a chance of a clear shot from there.
He shoved his gun into the waistband of his pants and started to shinny up to the first branch.
Fast.
Faster.
The man in the wet suit was starting to move more quickly toward Catherine.
Joe was drawing his gun as he pulled himself onto the branch.
Clear shot.
But Jacobs’s killer was almost on top of her.
Get the shot off.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of another figure standing in the water several yards from the bank.
Gallo.
What the hell?
Forget it. Level and fire, or he’d be too late to save Catherine.
Hell, it could be too late now.
* * *
THROW THE KNIFE.
Take him down.
Gallo’s hand was frozen on the hilt as he watched the man who had killed Jacobs glide toward Catherine.
Gallo had to move, but he couldn’t do it. Not this time. It was as if everything was going in slow motion for him.
He could see Catherine stiffening, and knew that 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, a thin dagger gleaming as he raised it.
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 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 away from the bank.
It gave her enough time to get her own knife out of the thigh 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 in the underbrush.
A shot.
Missed.
He jumped into the water, reached out, jerked out the knife piercing his hand, and threw it aside. 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 slipped 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. “It’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, 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.
ALSO BY IRIS JOHANSEN
Eve
Chasing the Night
Shadow Zone (with Roy Johansen)
Eight Days to Live
Blood Game
Deadlock
Dark Summer
Quicksand
Silent Thunder (with Roy Johansen)
Pandora’s Daughter
Stalemate
An Unexpected Song
Killer Dreams
On the Run
Countdown
Blind Alley
Firestorm
Fatal Tide
Dead Aim
No One to Trust
Body of Lies
Final Target
The Search
The Killing Game
The Face of Deception
And
Then You Die
Long After Midnight
The Ugly Duckling
Lion’s Bride
Dark Rider
Midnight Warrior
The Beloved Scoundrel
The Magnificent Rogue
The Tiger Prince
Last Bridge Home
The Golden Barbarian
Reap the Wind
Storm Winds
Wind Dancer
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
QUINN. Copyright © 2011 by Johansen Publishing LLLP. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Johansen, Iris.
Quinn / Iris Johansen.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-65121-3
1. Police—Fiction. 2. Duncan, Eve (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Women intelligence officers—Fiction. 4. Missing persons—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3560.O275Q56 2011
813'.54—dc22
2011005978
First Edition: July 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-8753-0
First St. Martin’s Press eBook Edition: July 2011
Look for Bonnie by Iris Johansen.
On sale October 18, 2011.
Iris Johansen, Quinn
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