She stopped short.

Gallo and a dark-haired man were wrestling on the ground beside the driver’s side of the Mercedes.

As she watched, Gallo flipped him over and climbed astride him. His arm encircled the man’s neck. Gallo’s face was flushed, his lips pulled back and revealing his teeth. Savage, animalistic anger and something close to bloodlust twisted his features. She remembered he had killed Paul Black with that very hold.

“Gallo,” she said through her teeth. “Don’t you kill him until we find out what we need to know.”

He looked up at her, and, for a moment, she thought he would ignore her. Then he drew a deep breath, and his arm loosened from around the man’s neck. “I’m not going to kill him … yet.” He jerked a knife from the man’s grasp. “He nicked me and made me a little upset.”

She could see the blood on Gallo’s forearm. Nick seemed a good description for the wound. “He didn’t hurt you.” She came forward and stood over Gallo and the man. “And if he did, you deserved it, you bastard. You left me without a word.” Her gaze shifted to the man who was glaring up at her. “Who is he? Nixon or Jason?”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Gallo pressed the edge of knife against the man’s throat. “Answers. I want answers. Name?”

“Humphrey.”

The knife brought blood. “Name?”

“Nixon.”

“Very good. Now, where is Thomas Jacobs?”

“I don’t know.” He gasped with the pain as the knife bit again. “I tell you, I don’t know. He hired me to watch his place and report back to him. He was expecting you to go after him when he heard about Queen’s death.”

“Report back? And that’s all?”

“For the time being. There might have been additional work later. He was going to consider it.” His lips curled. “I don’t think the son of a bitch could afford me. I wouldn’t have even taken the job if I hadn’t been having a slow month.”

“A ‘slow month,’” Catherine repeated. “What constitutes a ‘slow month’ in the assassination game, Nixon?”

“Where is Jacobs?” Gallo asked again. “One minute.”

“He was stalling me. He said he’d decide in two days,” Nixon went on quickly, his gaze on the knife. “That probably meant he had to find a way to score before he could pay me. He did it once before when he had me take care of one of the bosses at a casino in Atlantic City. The bastard always thought he could beat the tables. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t. But he was always sure he was going to make the big score.”

“That’s not enough,” Gallo said. “More. Jacobs is going to have to disappear for a while, and it’s going to take cash. He’d need money to pay you and to find a place to lie low from the police. Where would he go to get the money?”

“How do I know? He didn’t—” He cursed as the blood started to run down his neck as Gallo’s knife bit deep. “Maybe New Orleans. He told me once he lost his shirt in Atlantic City and the pit bosses were all crooks. He said that next time, he was going back to New Orleans, where he always won big.”

“When did he say that?”

“Six months ago.”

“Not when he set you up to do this job?”

“No, he didn’t mention anything.”

Gallo looked at Catherine. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I think he’s telling the truth.”

“I’m not sure.” His grasp tightened on the knife.

Nixon gasped. “Let me go. I’ll find out for sure and set him up for you. What good is it going to do you to slit my throat?”

“Good point,” Catherine said. “Let him make a call and see if Jacobs trusts him enough to tell him what we need to know.”

“Pity.” Gallo took the knife away and got to his feet. “I was beginning to enjoy myself.”

Nixon hurriedly sat up. “You’ll let me go if I get you what you want?”

“I didn’t say that,” Gallo said.

“We don’t need him. He’s not going to call Jacobs back and tip our hand.” She stared Nixon in the eye. “Because he knows we’d be after him and never give up. It wouldn’t be good business, would it, Nixon?”

“No.” He moistened his lips. “I don’t care about Jacobs. Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t care. As I said, it’s not good business.” She backed away from him. “Get in your car and turn the speaker on your phone so that Gallo can hear loud and clear.” She turned to Gallo. “I’ll take a turn around the parking lot and make sure that we haven’t disturbed any of the hotel employees or guests while you keep Nixon company.”

“Why should they be disturbed? I was very quiet. He didn’t even scream.” He opened the driver’s door and smiled. “But I agree that I should be the one to babysit him. We’ve grown so close we’re almost like family.”

“Family? Maybe the Borgias.” She moved away from the car and strolled across the parking lot. She doubted if their encounter with Nixon had attracted attention. It had seemed to go on for a long time, but it had actually taken only a few moments. It was the middle of the night, but there was always the chance that someone had glanced out the window. Or that a motel employee had come out for a cigarette. At any rate, she had to check out possible problems before they erupted to become real problems.

They had to move fast to find Jacobs and certainly didn’t need trouble with the police.

She was striding back to the Mercedes ten minutes later. Nixon was just hanging up his cell phone. She glanced at Gallo. “Well?”

“New Orleans. Cadalon Casino,” Gallo said. “He was on his way to the airport. Jacobs promised Nixon that he’d have his blood money by day after tomorrow.” He added, “Actually, Nixon handled it very well. He displayed a wonderful mixture of greed and venom. Jacobs didn’t suspect a thing.”

“You said I could go,” Nixon said. “You know where Jacobs is heading. I did everything you asked.”

“That’s true,” Gallo said. “But it was really Catherine who said we’d let you go. I really don’t approve of—”

“Let him go,” Catherine said. “We don’t have time to deal with him.”

Gallo shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He stepped back and gestured to Nixon. “Run along. Frankly, I’d make time to deal with you, but if we experience any backlash, I may still get my way.”

Nixon muttered a curse, but he was frantically starting the car and screeching out of the parking space.

Gallo was gazing regretfully after him. “You know that he’ll come after us eventually?”

“But it will take time for him to get over the first intimidation,” Catherine said. “You frightened him.” She turned away as Nixon peeled out of the parking lot. “I can see why Queen thought you were so valuable when you worked for him as a special agent. He said that there were moments when you were like an ancient Viking with the bloodlust on you. He called you a berserker. You can be—” She stopped, searching for the right word.

“Frightening?” He fell into step with her as she moved toward the glass door. “Did I frighten you, Catherine?”

“No.” She opened the door. “But I found it interesting to watch you. I couldn’t decide whether you were bluffing or if you really wanted to kill him.”

“I don’t bluff. Nixon is scum. Would I have cut his throat?” He smiled recklessly. “You seem to think I’m better than I think I am. So I believe I’ll let you wonder.”

“You’re good with a knife. Is that your weapon of choice?”

“I find it effective. Most people have experience with being cut and fear it. Guns are more impersonal. What about you?”

“Sometimes a knife is necessary, but I prefer being impersonal.” She added, “Except when I’m dealing with someone I hate.”

“Like Rakovac?”

She nodded. “I would have made him suffer as much as a victim of the Spanish Inquisition if I’d had the time. I wanted to take it slow.”

“If you run across a similar situation, let me know. I’ve learned a lot from personal experience about the methods the Inquisition used in that period. I’ll be glad to share.” He started up the stairs. “I’ll call and make our airline reservations to New Orleans.”