Riptide

fast to his feet. A man did
    better when temptation wasn't one inch from his face. He looked

down at her, then offered his hand. "Yeah, right. Now come on
    back to the house. I want you to write down everything you can
    remember him saying. Okay?"
    She got a look on her face that was hard and cold and determined.
    Good, he thought, she wasn't going to lie down and let this
    guy kick her like a dog.
    "Let's do it, Adam."
    They walked side by side up the steps to the veranda. They were
    nearly to the front door, and he was thinking that he needed to
    show her again that he wasn't gay, when a shot rang out, and a
    knife-sharp chunk of wood flew off the door frame not two inches
    from Becca's head and slammed into Adam's bare arm.

Chapter 14

    Adam twisted the doorknob, pushed the door in, and shoved
    Becca into the entrance hall in an instant, and still it seemed too
    slow. Another bullet struck the lintel right over his head, spewing
    splinters in all directions. None struck him this time. He twisted
    about and slammed the front door, then grabbed Becca's arm and
    dragged her out of the line of fire.
    He came down on his knees beside her. "Sorry to throw you
    around. Are you okay?"
    "Yeah, I'm okay. That bastard, that horrible man. He's a monster,
    crazy. It's got to stop, Adam. It's got to." He watched her jerk her
    Coonan out of her jacket pocket and crawl to one of the front
    windows. He was right behind her. "Becca, no, wait a minute. I
    want you to stay down. This is my job."
    "He's after me, not you," she said calmly and, slowly, very cautiously,
    leaned up to look out of the corner of the window. He
    thought he'd collapse of fright right then.
    Another two shots came at heart level through the front door,
    spewing shards of wood into the entrance hall. Another shot.
    Becca saw the flash of light. She didn't hesitate, just fired off all
    seven rounds. He heard the dick click click when there were no
    more bullets in the clip.
    There was dead silence. Adam was on his knees right behind
    her, furious with himself because his Delta Elite was in his carryall

in the guest bedroom. "Becca? I want you to stay right here. Don't
    move. I've got to get my gun. Stay down."
    She gave him a quick look. "Go ahead and don't worry. We're
    not helpless. I hit him, I know it, Adam."
    "Just stay down."
    "It's okay." He watched her pull another magazine out of her
    jacket pocket. He stared at her as she slowly, calmly shoved it into
    the Coonan.
    "Go get your gun," she said, looking out the window, her back to
    him. "If I didn't hit him, I can at least keep him away from the
    house."
    He couldn't think of anything else to say. He was up the stairs and
    to the bedroom in three seconds flat. When he came back downstairs,
    his pistol in his hand, Becca hadn't moved. "I haven't seen a thing," she
    called out. "Do you think maybe I -was lucky enough to hit him?"
    "I plan to find out. Keep a sharp lookout. And don't shoot me."
    And then he was gone before she could draw a breath. She heard
    him walk quickly through the kitchen, then the back door opened
    and closed very quietly. She prayed she'd hit him. Maybe right in his
    throat, where he'd hit the governor. Or in the gut. He deserved that
    for killing that poor old bag lady. She waited, waited, not moving,
    watching for Adam, for his shadow, anything to show her he was all
    right.
    Time passed so slowly she thought it would become night before
    anything more happened. Suddenly, she heard a shout.
    "Come on out, Becca!"
    Adam. It was Adam and he sounded all right. She was through
    the front door like a shot, her hair tangling in her face, realizing
    only then that she was sweating and cold at the same time, and
    laughing. Yes, she was laughing because they were safe. They'd
    beaten the monster. This time.

Adam was standing at the edge of the woods, waving toward her.
    It was in the exact same direction where she'd fired off all seven
    rounds. He waited until she was right in front of him. He smiled
    down at her, then wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her
    hard. "You got the bastard, Becca. Come take a look."
    Blood on fallen leaves. Like Christmas decorations--rich dark
    red on deep green.
    "I got him," she whispered. "I really got him."
    "You sure did. I've looked but I can't find a trail because once
    he realized he was out of the game, he stanched the wound and
    carefully brushed ground cover over his tracks so he wouldn't leave
    any kind of a trail."
    "I got him," she