Death is Forever

eyes.
    The gunman had his back partially to her, and his head was turning. He was poised to spin in any direction, his breathing ruthlessly controlled, listening like a cat at a mouse hole. The silenced gun wove from side to side, covering as wide a field of fire as possible.
    Erin saw the glitter of moonlight in the man’s eyes as he turned toward the water. Cole was silhouetted against the pale gleam of the sea, a target too big to miss even with blurred vision.
    She threw sand and rolled aside in the same violent motion.
    The gunman spun toward her, firing before he could see a target. The bullet hit the sand, spraying grit. The gunman whirled back around toward the sea, warned of an attack more by instinct than by any noise Cole made. The gun spat again.
    Cole grunted just before the base of his palm smashed against the man’s nose with a driving upward blow. The gunman’s head snapped backward, and blood poured blackly in the moonlight. The man crumpled without a sound to the sand.
    “Erin! Are you all right?”
    “Yes. Just shaken.”
    “Watch the pathway we came down.”
    Cole picked up the gun and checked the load with a few swift motions before he sheathed his knife. Methodically he began inspecting the other four men for signs of consciousness.
    “Anyone coming?” he asked Erin as he bent over the first man and made a swift, hard motion with his right hand. The man didn’t move in response.
    “No. W-what are you doing?”
    “Making sure they’re not faking it.”
    Cole’s method was ruthless and effective—stiffened fingers driven into the groin. No conscious man could take it without a reflexive whimper and a convulsive movement to protect himself.
    Numbly Erin watched. She was trembling in the aftermath of adrenaline, but she felt almost unnaturally calm. She’d been through sudden violence before, survived it, and adjusted to the reality that she would never again expect the world to be a safe place.
    This time the violence had been much easier to bear. She’d managed to defend herself. She’d fought and she hadn’t even been injured. Her mind was safe, too. She no longer had any naïve belief in personal safety to be wrenched away by the attack. It was all old news. Later she might cry and shake, but not now. Now she was emotionally numb.
    Surviving.
    The fourth man groaned and curled up at Cole’s blow. Erin flinched.
    “Still clear?” Cole asked her.
    “Yes. Shouldn’t we get the police?”
    “That would put us out of commission as effectively as these men tried to.”
    Cole yanked the fourth man into a sitting position. “If you can hear me, open your eyes or you’ll get another shot to the balls.”
    The man’s eyes opened.
    “Who was the target, me or the girl?” Cole asked.
    The man didn’t answer.
    Cole’s hand moved once, hard. The man made an odd sound and jerked convulsively.
    “Who was the target?” Cole repeated.
    “You,” the man groaned.
    Relief went through Cole. He couldn’t expect to protect Erin for long from outright assassination attempts. Mayhem was different. Especially if it was aimed at him.
    He turned and threw the pistol into the sea. “A hit?”
    The man made a hoarse sound. “Just a kneecapping.”
    Erin’s breath came in harshly as she realized that the point of the attack had been to permanently maim Cole.
    “Who hired you?” Cole asked.
    “Don’t know.”
    Cole believed him. It was typical of thugs not to know any more than the name of the target and how to get to him. Cole pressed his thumbs into the man’s neck until the carotid arteries closed down. Unconsciousness swiftly followed. Cole opened his hands, releasing the man.
    “Anyone else coming?” Cole asked.
    “No.”
    “We’ll go up the other way just the same. There was somebody back on the first path, but he didn’t get in the fight.”
    “Why?”
    “He may be calling the cops. Let’s go.”
    Cole got to his feet and bent to help Erin up. His normally smooth motions were marred by a slight hitch at every other step. She thought she saw the slick gleam of blood on the dark fabric above his left knee, on the inside of his thigh.
    “Are you hurt?”
    He grunted.
    “Cole,” Erin said urgently.
    “He didn’t kneecap me, thanks to you. I’ll only limp for a day or two instead of the rest of my life.”
    “But—”
    “Later. Shock is a good anesthetic, but it wears off fast. By then, I want us to be in a safe place.”
    “Is there one?”
    He turned away