“That’s not what you paid me for,” Nixon said. “I don’t know anything about alarms. I’m clean with the local police. I don’t want anything on my record. I watched. I reported. If you’d given me the go-ahead, I would have taken care of them.” He paused. “I’ll still do it. I’m right behind them on the freeway. All you have to do is make an electronic transfer into my bank account.”

But I don’t have the money to make that transfer, Jacobs thought in frustration. His hand clenched on the phone. He and Queen had used Nixon before, and he was the best man for a job like this. He was almost as good as Paul Black had been with none of the bizarre freakiness Black had always exhibited.

He would rid himself of Gallo once and for all. And then he’d have a chance of being safe. He was not afraid of either Army Intelligence or any other law-enforcement body. He’d be able to survive. The world was crooked, and he knew where all the bodies were buried.

But Gallo was different. He’d seen how crazy the bastard could be. He wouldn’t stop. He’d keep on until hell froze over, until he had Jacobs in his sights. Those yokel cops had said Black had killed Queen, but it was probably Gallo’s doing. Jacobs had told Queen any number of times that it was dangerous trying to manipulate Gallo. Something about him caused a cold knot to form in Jacobs’s stomach. He hated being afraid. He hated the arrogant macho bastards who’d tried to beat him down and crush him all his life.

But he’d shown them that it was brains, not brawn, that mattered. He’d plugged along and kept quiet and let them all show off how smart they thought they were. But it was Queen who had been killed. It was Gallo who was on the run.

Except, now, Jacobs was on the run, too.

“Make up your mind,” Nixon said. “Do I get the money?”

“I’m thinking about it. I can’t decide without studying all the consequences.”

“My time is valuable. I can take care of Gallo and the woman tonight and move on to my next job. Yes or no?”

“I should be able to make a decision within the next two days. Just stay close to them.” He hung up.

He mustn’t let Nixon know he was weak in any way. But Jacobs knew he’d have to find a way to rid himself of Gallo and the woman. He couldn’t dangle Nixon for more than the two days for which he’d bargained. He had to move and move—

His phone dinged to signal an arriving e-mail.

It could be the confirmation on his hotel room at the casino. They’d better confirm his reservations. He’d given them enough of his business.

It wasn’t the hotel.

I warned you, Jacobs. I warned you both. Did you think I’d forgotten? Did you think I wouldn’t find out what was going on? You’re a dead man.

No signature. Jacobs didn’t need a signature.

*   *   *

SHIT. SHIT. Shit.

His heart was beating so hard, he felt dizzy.

You’re a dead man.

He had thought that his luck couldn’t get any worse when he’d found out that Gallo and the woman were on his trail.

This was worse. This was deadly.

He felt so scared, he was sick to his stomach.

He had to get control of himself. He could get out of this. He’d made up his mind that he had to disappear anyway. It was just reinforced by that damn e-mail. He would tell Nixon to take care of Gallo, and that bitch, and that would rid himself of one threat. Then he would run and hide and not surface until he thought it was safe.

But to do both of those things, he’d have to have money.

Money was always possible, always just around the next bend in the road. He’d pick a place that had always been special for him.

His luck was due to change. It always did.

And this time he was sure he’d score big enough to set him up for life.

Then he’d have the money to give Nixon.

Then he’d be able to squash Gallo and Catherine Ling as if they were vermin. Then he’d be able to keep that bastard from finding and killing him.

Just as soon as his luck changed.

*   *   *

“WE’RE BEING FOLLOWED,” Catherine said quietly. “Three cars back, far left lane.”

Gallo nodded. “Gray Mercedes.”

“And he knows what he’s doing. Slow down. I’m going to try to get his plate number.”

Gallo slowed, but it took her three attempts to get the number on the front of the Mercedes. The person tailing them was sliding in and out of traffic like an eel. “Very slick. Jacobs?”

“No, Jacobs wouldn’t be doing his own dirty work. Not unless he was forced into it.” He glanced at the mirror. “But he would have a large number of lethal personnel to call on to do the job. It wouldn’t be anyone from Army Intelligence. Jacobs has blown that cover.”

“Another killer like Paul Black?”

“That’s my guess. Jacobs set up someone to protect his back. He knew that he’d be on the run.” He pulled off the freeway. “And this might not be so bad…”

She nodded. “Whoever is following us would probably know where Jacobs is hiding.”

He smiled. “Two minds with a single thought.”

They did think along the same lines, she thought. It was perfectly natural when they had been trained in the same violent schools of engagement. She had discovered that truth when she had been hunting him through the forests. “Then we need to gather him in and squeeze him for information. Pull over to that Holiday Inn, and let’s let him find us.”

“If he wants to find us,” he murmured. “I might have to go find him.”

“We’ll see.” The gray Mercedes was not coming after them, Catherine noticed. Yes, he was as good as she’d thought. It would have been foolish for him to do anything as obvious as driving into the parking lot. He would come back later, check out their room locations, and perhaps position himself for an attack. “In the meantime, while you check in, I’ll try to verify his license plate.”

“Probably a rental.”

“It will be a start.” She got out of the car and glanced at the side mirror. A streak of silver-gray Mercedes shot by the motel entrance. Come a little closer. We’re waiting for you. “Let’s get inside and work on it.”

*   *   *

“EDWARD HUMPHREY.” Catherine looked up as Gallo came in the adjoining door from his bedroom. “Avis Rental. Residence is in Detroit, Michigan. Venable is contacting the FBI and trying to dig deeper. It’s not unusual for a suspect to use the same pseudonym any number of times. There may be a way we can sift it and come up with the right identity.”

“Or not.” He strolled over to the window and pulled back the drape to look down into the motel parking lot. “It may be better to do a little probing ourselves.”

“Is he down there yet?”

“No.” He let the drape fall back in place. “But it’s still early. He may want to give us time to get settled.” He dropped down in the beige easy chair beside the window. “I’ll be the one to go for him. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. How do I know that you’d do a better job than me? We’ll discuss it later.” She wearily rubbed her temple. “But right now, I’m going to take a shower and change my clothes. I still smell of earth and bark and shrubbery.”

“And rotting leaves.” He smiled slightly. “What a shame. I’ve grown to like it.”

“Which only proves how weird you are.” She got to her feet and moved toward the bathroom. “Call me if you need me.”

“Oh, I will. You’ll be the first to know.”

She inhaled sharply as she looked back over her shoulder. Sensuality. Intense and unexpected. Everything had been pragmatic and commonplace. Yet suddenly there was this searing awareness.

Don’t address it. Ignore it.

She quickly closed the bathroom door behind her. Ignore it? Her body was responding the same way it had when she’d watched him wading out of the lake and coming toward her.

She threw off her clothes and stepped into the warm shower. A few minutes later, she was soaping her hair and body. The clean white tile surrounding her was completely different from the primitive lake and forest. No comparison.