Kiss the Girls

proceeded in lock-step toward the kitchen, where the house phone was located. I had to get the Cape Hatteras police here
now.
They would contact Kyle and the FBI.
    It was dark in the narrow hallway, and I didn’t see the flash of metal until it was too late. A sharp pain shot through me as a longish dart stuck into the left side of my chest.
    It was a heart shot. Perfectly delivered. He’d hit me with a state-of-the-art Tensor stun gun.
    A powerful shock of electrical current streaked through my body. My heart fluttered. I could smell my own flesh burning.
    I don’t know how I did it, but I went at him. That’s the problem with stun guns, even an expensive eighty-thousand-volt Tensor. They don’t always bring down a big man. Especially a crazed one with a sense of purpose.
    I didn’t have enough strength left. Not for Casanova. The agile and powerful killer sidestepped me and chopped my neck hard. He hit me a second time and brought me to my knees.
    He wore no mask this time.
    I looked up at him. He had a light beard now, like Harrison Ford’s at the start of
The Fugitive.
His brown hair was slicked straight back, longer now, and unruly. He was letting himself go a bit. Was he mourning his best friend?
    No mask. He wanted me to see who he was. His game had been destroyed, hadn’t it.
    Here was Casanova, finally.
    I had been close with Davey Sikes. I felt sure it had to be someone connected with the Durham police force. I felt it was someone attached to the original golden couple murder case. He had covered every trace, though. He’d had alibis that made it
impossible for him to be the killer.
    He had figured everything out so beautifully. He was a genius—that was why he had succeeded for such a long time.
    I stared into the impassive face of Detective Nick Ruskin.
    Ruskin was Casanova. Ruskin was the Beast. Ruskin! Ruskin! Ruskin!
    “I can do anything I want to do!
Don’t you forget that, Cross,
” Ruskin said to me. He had been so perfect in his art. He had fit in, blended so well, created the best possible façade as a detective. The local star; the local hero. The one most above suspicion.
    Ruskin stepped toward Kate as I lay helpless from the Tensor dart. “I missed you, Katie. Did you miss me?’”
    He laughed easily as he spoke. There was madness in his eyes, though. He had finally gone over the edge. Was it because his “twin” was dead? What in hell did he want to do now?
    “So, did you miss me?” he repeated as he came toward her with the powerful, incapacitating Tensor in hand.
    Kate didn’t answer the question. She went for him instead. She’d wanted this for so long.
    An explosive kick to Casanova’s right shoulder spun the gun from Nick Ruskin’s outstretched hand. The kick was a beauty, perfectly delivered.
Hit him again, then get out of there,
I wanted to yell to Kate.
    I couldn’t speak yet. Nothing came out when I tried. I finally managed to get up on one elbow.
    Kate was
flowing
the way she did when she practiced on the beach. Casanova was a big man, powerful, but Kate’s strength seemed to surge from a rage equal to his.
He comes, we tangle,
she had said once upon a time.
    She was a blur, a perfect fighter. Even better than I had expected.
    I didn’t see the next punch. I was blocked by his body. I saw Nick Ruskin’s head snap sharply to the side, and his long hair flew out in every direction. His legs wobbled badly. She’d hurt him.
    Kate pivoted and hit him again. A lightning-quick punch caught the left side of his face. I wanted to cheer for her. The punch didn’t stop him, though. Ruskin was relentless, but so was she.
    He lunged at her and Kate hit him yet again. His left cheek appeared to collapse. It was a mismatch all the way.
    She crunched a hard fist into his nose and he went down. He moaned loudly. He was beaten; he wasn’t getting up again. Kate had won.
    My heart was thundering inside my chest. I saw Ruskin reaching for his ankle holster. Casanova wasn’t going to lose to a woman, or anyone else.
    The gun appeared like some clever sleight-of-hand trick. It was a semiautomatic. Smith and Wesson.
He was changing the rules of the fight.
    “Nooo!” Kate shouted at him.
    “Hey, asshole,” I said in a hoarse whisper. I was changing the rules, too.
    Casanova turned. He saw me and pivoted the semiautomatic in my direction. I was holding the Glock with both hands. My arms were shaking some but I was able to sit up. I emptied almost a full clip into him.
Drive