Quinn (20 page)

But, yes, definitely fast and deadly.

So did he run again?

He started moving. As silent as Catherine. As fast as Catherine. He could feel his heart start to pound, the excitement electrifying every muscle.

Follow me.

Let’s play the game a little longer.

Who knows? I may let you win it.

CHAPTER

11

One Week Later

SHE NEEDED A BATH,
Catherine thought as she woke in the cave where she’d sheltered for the day. She slept from dawn until late afternoon because the hunt was at night. She’d taken a chance and swum in the cold lake on the property the day before yesterday. She couldn’t afford to do it again anytime soon. She had thought she sensed Gallo and had quickly returned to shore.

It could be imagination. It seemed she was always sensing Gallo these days. His presence was all around her, in the trees, the hills, the lake.

He was the last thing she thought of before she went to sleep and the first thing when she woke in the morning. Not that she slept much.

Not since she became aware that Gallo was also stalking her.

The realization had come to her about two weeks after she had found and begun to stalk him. This hunt had been like nothing in her experience. He was like no one she had ever targeted. A phantom, silent, swift, moving all around her and yet only permitting her brief glimpses, the slimmest of opportunities.

After that first encounter he could have chosen to leave the area, but he hadn’t done it. He had stayed and let her stalk him. Then, as time passed, she was aware that it had become a duel. He was no longer content to be the prey.

Why?

She didn’t care any longer. She had been swept up in the dance, and every minute was charged, every hour was electrified by the knowledge that any minute she might see him again.

And that minute might be her last.

Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her jacket.

Eve.

“You haven’t called me in the last two weeks,” Eve said.

“I’ve been busy.”

“And you sound funny.”

“I just woke up.” And she hadn’t spoken to anyone for the last two days, when she’d called home and checked on Luke. “How is Joe?”

“Better all the time. He’s out of bed and in therapy. He may get released soon.” She paused. “I hoped I’d hear something positive from you before that.”

“So did I. Nothing yet.”

“You still think he’s in those woods?”

“Oh, yes.” She gazed at the shrubs several yards away. He could be as close to her as those trees. But she didn’t think so. She would feel him. These days, every nerve, every muscle of her body seemed attuned to him. “He’s here. I may be getting closer.”

As close as a lover.

“Well, you may have company soon,” Eve said. “I won’t be able to keep Joe away from there for long. Then we’ll both be up there to reinforce you.”

“No!” The rejection was sharp and instinctive, and it had nothing to do with protecting Joe, she realized. This dance with Gallo belonged to her. She didn’t want anyone else to cut in before the end. “Do your best to keep him away.”

Silence. “Are you all right, Catherine?”

“I’m fine. I’m dirty, I stink of sweat and dirt, and I know this forest better than I ever wanted to know any place. But other than that, I’m doing well.” She added, “I’ll try to call you more often. Give my best to Joe.” She hung up.

She took a protein bar out of the knapsack. Eat. Find a creek to wash her teeth and face, then start out again.

The eagerness was beginning to sing through her as she bit into the bar. It was going to end soon. She would find him and put him down.

Or Gallo would find her.

Either way, it would be the end of the dance.

Eight Days Later

CATHERINE’S BREATH WAS COMING
hard and fast as she ran up the hill.

He was no more than a football field ahead of her. She had caught a brief glimpse of him on the lower slopes, then another a few minutes ago.

He was getting careless. He could have stayed deeper in the brush, and she might not have seen him. Are you getting tired, Gallo? I’m not. I can go on forever.

As long as the adrenaline of the dance kept her moving.

But he’d reached the top of the hill and disappeared into the trees.

She slowed, and her hand closed on her dart gun.

Her catching sight of him could have been a deliberate ploy on his part to lead her into a trap.

She darted into the trees, her gaze searching the darkness.

No Gallo.

She moved carefully toward the opening in the trees near the top of the hill. Where was he?

She stopped short as she reached the edge of the trees.

Gallo. Out in the open. The moonlight revealing him with crystal clarity.

He was on the shale slope of the cliff.

Why the hell had he led her there?

It didn’t make sense. He had to realize there was no cover for him until he reached the trees over forty yards away. He had been increasingly reckless for the last two days, and it had bewildered her. Dammit, did he want her to shoot him? For all he knew, it wouldn’t be a dart but a bullet that would cut him down.

She was being ridiculous. What difference did it make how reckless he was being? It was her chance to take him down.

She lifted her dart gun.

But if she shot him while he was on that slippery shale slope, he would probably roll down off the cliff to the lake hundreds of feet below them. She would kill him.

He glanced behind him.

She knew he couldn’t see her in the trees, but he was aware that she was there. Just as she knew when he was near her. It was part of the dance.

He smiled, and she knew it was at her. He was taunting her. Crazy. Dammit, he knew he was in range.

“Damn you, get off that slope,” she whispered.

He moved slowly, deliberately, toward the trees on the other side of the slope.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Now to figure a way that she could cross that barren strip of shale and track him into the trees. Maybe go up toward the top of the hill and work her way—

The edge of the slope broke away from the hill and threw Gallo to the ground. He rolled toward the edge of the cliff!

“No!”

She was out of the trees and crossing the shale slope, her boots sliding on the slippery surface. The slope was still crumbling …

Where was Gallo?

Clinging to the edge of the cliff. His fingers white as he gripped the edge.

She stood over him. He was looking up at her, his gaze on the gun in her hand.

“Do it,” he said hoarsely. “All it would take would be one shot. Even that dart gun would do the trick.”

She hadn’t even known she was still holding the gun.

“Do it.” His dark eyes were glittering fiercely into hers. “Dammit, one shot.”

“Screw you. I’ll do what I please.” She threw the gun aside and fell to her knees. “Give me your left hand and boost yourself on the edge with the right when I pull.”

He didn’t move.

“You
listen
to me. I won’t have it. It’s not going to end like this. Dammit, give me your hand.”

“You’re not strong enough to bear my weight.”

“The hell I’m not.” She gripped his left hand and wrist with both of her hands. “Now when I count to three let go. One. Two.” She braced herself. “Three!” She pulled, jerking backward with all her strength. Then she lunged forward as the weight of his body unbalanced her. But his right hand was bracing on the ground, lifting his weight as she grabbed him under the arms.

She jerked backward, and he came down on top of her as he scrambled over the edge of the cliff!

The breath was knocked out of her. She struggled to breathe as she fought the darkness. Then Gallo was off her, and she was looking hazily up at him. Dark eyes glittering, lips tight and bitter …

There was something in his hand …

A gun.

“I told you to shoot me,” he said. “I expected it. You should have done it.”

He pulled the trigger.

Darkness.

*   *   *

SHE OPENED HER EYES TO SEE
a fire only feet away from her. A campfire, shouldering low …

And the shadows of the flames playing on the face of the man sitting cross-legged on the ground across the fire.

Gallo …

“Good. You’re awake. I didn’t know how potent the drug in that little pop pistol was going to turn out to be. You could have set up the dose for me, and I’m a hell of a lot bigger than you. How do you feel?”

She felt fuzzy and lethargic. But that was how she should feel, she realized, as his words sank home. He had turned her own weapon against her. “I’ll live…” Her tongue felt thick as she tried to speak. “Disappointed?”

“No.” He stirred the fire with the stick he was holding. “Aftereffects? Paralysis?”

“I’ll be back to normal after fifteen minutes.”

“A very efficient drug. What is it?”

“You … wouldn’t recognize it. Hu Chang made … it for me.”

“Hu Chang?”

“An old friend.” The thick lethargy was starting to clear, and she realized that her wrists were bound in front of her. “You have me tied up like a pig for market. Are you … afraid of me, Gallo?”

“Yes. You’re formidable, Catherine. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our game.”

He called it a game. She called it a dance. But the concept was the same. “I saved your neck, you son of a bitch.”

“And you would have taken it the minute you had me on safe ground. I’d judge you acted on impulse when you decided to pull me back from the brink. I’d probably have done the same.” He glanced at the dart gun on the ground beside him. “Or maybe not. Why the darts? Why not a bullet?”

“Eve wants you alive. She thinks you know where Bonnie is buried. Do you?”

He looked down into the fire. “Maybe. I don’t know…” He didn’t speak for a moment. “Then I’m not the only one who tied your hands. Eve did it, too. It could have been fatal for you.”

“Eve didn’t tie them. I tied them. I make my own choices.”

He glanced at the dart gun again. “I can see that.” He reached over and picked up the pan of boiling hot water bubbling over the blaze. “Some of them have unhealthy consequences. I don’t—” He stopped as he saw her stiffening, as she gazed at the boiling water. “You thought I was going to use this on you? That would be sacrilege. You have the most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen.” He set the pan on the ground while he got a cup from the knapsack, poured instant coffee into it. “I may be a son of a bitch, but it would make me sick to damage it.”

“You are sick. Eve says you’re insane. She says you admitted it yourself.”

“I did.” He poured the hot water into the cup. “But it appears to come and go. Isn’t that convenient? But all the more dangerous for anyone who might trust me in my saner moments.” His voice was bitter with self-mockery. “I’m like a mad dog that should be put out of his misery. I tried to do it myself. But she wouldn’t have it.”

“Eve?”

“No, Bonnie.” He brought the cup to Catherine and knelt beside her. “Or maybe that was a delusion, too. Self-preservation is a powerful thing.”

“I don’t care about your delusions. But your sense of self-preservation doesn’t appear to be too well developed. You were skipping around on that slope like the madman you claim to be. You must have known I’d have a clear shot.”

“But you didn’t take it.” He smiled. “I was disappointed. But then providence took a hand.” He looked down at her. “Are you strong enough yet to take this coffee cup, or should I help you?”

She was still too weak, but she was tempted to take it anyway. She needed the caffeine in her system. But she would probably spill it all over herself, and that would put her at still greater disadvantages with him. “I don’t want it.”

“And that means you’re not strong enough yet.” He put his arm under her shoulders and lifted her to a half-sitting position. “You have a choice of spitting it back in my face or drinking it and getting a bit closer to your usual fighting weight. It’s up to you.” He brought the cup to her lips. “I think I know which you’ll choose. You may be pissed off at me for taking you out, but you’re too professional not to prepare for our next battle.”

She hesitated only for an instant before opening her lips.

“Ah, that’s right.” He tilted the cup, and the hot liquid poured into her mouth. “You’re being totally intelligent.” He took the cup away. “Just what I’d expect of you.”

She was cradled in his arm, and he was so close she could smell the earthy scent of him and feel the heat of his body against her own. It was … disturbing.

His gaze was narrowed on her face. “What are you thinking?”

She met his gaze. “That you stink as much as I do.”

Surprise flickered across his face. Then he chuckled. “I like the way you smell. It’s … basic. I’m sorry the feeling isn’t mutual.”

It was mutual, she realized. But it shouldn’t have been. Or maybe it was because of the almost barbaric interaction between them of the past days. “I prefer a higher plane to basic.”