She’d lost it all that night.

Yet, with that recognition came no sorrow. Instead, anger, hot and bright, surged through her. Lorna was done with secrets, sick to the bone of them. She pushed out of Jack’s arms-and fully out of that old nightmare. This wasn’t the past. She wasn’t a scared half-drugged teenager any longer.

She looked around her and spotted her tranquilizer gun. She stalked over to the rifle, picked it up, and hurried ahead. Fire still blazed down her back with every step, but the pain helped focus her.

Jack came alongside her. “Lorna, what’re you thinking of doing? He’s not worth it.”

She burned him with a glare. “Of course he’s not worth it. I’ll deal with that bastard later. Right now we have bigger problems.”

She searched to either side of the boardwalk, backtracking along the path on which she’d been dragged. When she hit, she’d lost hold of the blanket and the cub. Both went flying out of her arms on impact. But where had they gone?

She rounded another pond-a breeding pond from the looks of it-and spotted a flash of crimson below, near the water’s edge. Beyond the rail, a grassy bank ringed the pond. The fire blanket and its cargo had rolled halfway into the water.

Lorna set down her rifle, ducked under the rail, and dropped below.

Ahead, the blanket squirmed. A plaintive mewl sounded. The motion sent ripples across the pond’s mirror. Out on the water, black logs drifted closer, drawn by the motion. A scaly-ridged pair of eyes rose like a submarine’s periscope from the water.

A pair of boots struck the grassy mud behind her.

Jack.

She kept her focus on the pond, on the blanket, and rushed forward. She reached the bank in four steps. The blanket shook as the trapped cub struggled to escape the water.

If it got loose… ran off…

A hem of the blanket lifted. She spotted a tiny white muzzle, whiskers. Lorna lunged forward, sliding on her knees in the mud. She grabbed the blanket and scooped up the cub.

“Gotcha…”

She leaned back, pulling the cub to her chest. She rolled to her feet and straightened-when water exploded from the pond’s edge. An alligator burst out, jaws wide, fish-belly-white maw and yellow teeth flashing in the dark.

Lorna jerked back, but she was too slow.

The jaws snapped with enough force to shatter bone. Teeth caught the trailing edge of the blanket and ripped it out of her grip. The beast surged back and tossed its leathery head. The blanket went flying, and the cub got hurled along with it. The small cat hit the grass, rolled, then pounced back to its tiny paws. It took off like a flash of lightning away from the pond.

No…

Lorna knew she’d never be quick enough to catch it again. If it reached the open bayou-

– but Jack dove across its path. Like a tight end catching a fumbled football, he snatched the panicked cub in midflight. He rolled with the cat clutched to his belly. As he came to a stop, shadows stirred under the boardwalk behind him.

“Jack!”

An alligator surged out of the darkness, barreling on four legs toward the man on the ground. Jack would never gain his feet in time. The gator lunged toward him.

“No, you don’t, leatherface!”

A dark shape dropped down from above and landed on the alligator’s back. Randy whooped and used his weight to pin the creature down, sprawling on top. The alligator twisted and rolled, but Randy kept hold. Lorna dodged out of the way as the pair came wrestling past. Before they hit the water, Randy rabbit-kicked with both legs into the gator’s belly. The armored creature went flying, tail whipping, and splashed far out into the pond.

Lorna hurried and helped Randy up. More leathery logs floated toward them. It was time to get out of here.

She grabbed the sodden blanket from the water. And it was a good thing she did.

Jack was on his feet and struggling with the feral cub. Panicked and as large as a medium-size dog, it clawed and ripped at him, shredding his uniform’s sleeves. But he refused to let go, his face clenched in pain.

She rushed to him with the blanket held wide. “Give him to me!”

Jack gladly shoved the squirming mass of claws and needle-sharp saber teeth at her. She wrapped the cub again and bundled it up. The three of them hurried back to the boardwalk and climbed up onto the planks.

“Why is that little monster so important?” Jack asked as he stood. Blood rolled down his arms and dripped from his fingertips.

Lorna started to answer-then the words died in her throat. While turning to explain, she happened to glance down the boardwalk toward the forest’s edge.

The answer to Jack’s question crouched at the end of the boardwalk. It was a mountain of muscle, claws, and fangs, far larger than she had expected. It practically filled the boardwalk. The jaguar stared straight at Lorna.

A primal fear gripped her chest, making it hard to breathe.

How long had she been there?

Moonlight and firelight washed over the cat’s snowy fur. From its snarling jaws hung a small boy, limp and lifeless, caught by his scouting vest. According to Jack’s radio message, the boy’s name was Tyler.

Was he dead?

Then the boy’s arm lifted weakly.

Still alive… thank God… but plainly in shock…

Jack swung around. He raised his rifle, but hesitated. Tyler still lived, but a shot that failed to drop the big cat immediately would likely result in the boy being mauled to death.

“Don’t,” Lorna warned.

She stepped ahead of Jack. She parted the blanket to reveal the cub, hiking the little fellow higher.

C’mon, you know what you really want…

Still staring at her, the jaguar lowered the boy to the planks, but kept one paw on his chest, pinning Tyler down.

“Lorna…”

She kept her gaze fixed forward, recognizing the preternatural intelligence in those eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” she whispered back to Jack.

At least, she hoped she did.

Chapter 21

Gar lay flat on his stomach, trying his best not to be seen. His shotgun was trapped under him, but he feared shifting to free it.

Ten seconds ago, he’d been trotting back toward the safety of the radio shack. He and his buddies had stashed a case of Budweiser in there and had been taking turns during the day to slip inside and wet their whistles. What could it hurt? Gar had never really believed the story of a monster cat loose in the bayou. Christ, how many tall tales had he heard about the swamps over the years, many coming from his own mouth?

Figuring it was easy money, Gar had been more than happy to lounge around the farm, drink a few beers. He even emptied a couple of the campers’ wallets, pilfered from unsupervised backpacks.

All in a day’s work.

But now everything had changed.

While fleeing across the farm, he’d spotted a flash of white out in the forest, flowing straight at him. Reacting instinctively, he had turned and hopped over the boardwalk gate and onto the plank on the far side. The timber stuck out like a diving board over a pond. He had dropped flat to the board-and just in time.

The huge cat had bounded over the border fence and landed on the boardwalk twenty yards from him.

He continued to hold his breath, stifling a cry of terror. Under his bulging gut, he felt every nail head and knot in the wood. His bladder quivered, threatening to let loose. But he didn’t move.

It would be death to be seen.

Voices drew his attention to the other side of the boardwalk. He watched the woman from the helicopter cautiously ease toward the cat. She held a bundle of blankets up in her arms. Behind her, he recognized the Menard brothers-Jack and Randy. Even through his terror, a twinge of hatred burned in his chest. Jack had once broken his nose, knocked out his two front teeth. Gar had wanted him dead at the time. But instead his daddy got the bastard shipped off to Iraq.