Sizzle and Burn

the hall and knock on the door to the men’s room.
    Not a bad idea, come to think of it.
    If they both disappeared from the table, the waiter would probably assume they had left for good. Zack had paid for the drinks when they arrived, so the bill was taken care of but he hadn’t tipped because they had intended to buy another round.
    She opened her small purse to search for some tip money. The hair on the nape of her neck lifted a little as though stirred by an invisible, ice-cold draft. Goose bumps crawled up her arms.
    She was aware of two things simultaneously. The first was that someone very dangerous had just walked past the booth where she sat alone. She could feel not only the presence of the man directly behind her, but his malevolent intent, as well.
    The second thing she knew with unshakable certainty was that the man’s malevolence was directed at Zack.
    Zack was in trouble. She knew it as surely as she knew she heard voices.
    She forced herself to remove some money from her wallet in what she hoped was a calm, unhurried manner. Her instincts were screaming now. It was all she could do to appear calm.
    She put the cash on the table. Only then did she allow herself to turn slightly in the seat, as though searching for the waiter.
    She was just in time to see a figure go into the shadowy hall that led to the restrooms. Something about the purposeful way he moved told her he was the one who had set her inner alarm bells clanging.
    The man vanished into the restroom hallway.
    She snapped her purse closed, slid out of the booth and hurried toward the restroom. She reached the hall just in time to see the dark figure pause briefly beneath the emergency exit sign that marked a rear door.
    In the eerie glow of the sign she saw him jerk a ski mask out of his pocket and pull it down over his face. Then he reached for the door handle with one hand. With his other hand, he drew a knife out of a concealed sheath.

Thirty-four
    T he terrible visions slammed through him without warning when he touched the corner of the steel garbage container. The images were searing and fairly fresh, no more than a month old.
    Suddenly he knew what had happened in this alley. He saw it all from Lawrence Quinn’s perspective.
    … A dark figure approaching swiftly out of the shadows. Confusion and then skyrocketing terror. The sickening knowledge that he had been a fool to believe them. A death’s head loomed. Eyes like bottomless black holes …
    … Then there was an unearthly cold seeping into him. He was on the ground. The death’s head reached down, leaning over him, snatching something from his numb fingers …
    The door to the nightclub opened. He jerked his hand away from the metal, turning quickly. The visions evaporated the instant he was no longer in contact with the metal but he could still feel the emotional punch of a man who knew he was facing his own imminent, violent death.
    Raine plunged out of the doorway, moving incredibly fast in her fragile high heels and tight black dress. She came straight at him, her small clutch purse extended in her right hand. She did not speak as she closed the distance between them in long, lethal strides.
    Not Raine , his para-instincts screamed. Everything was wrong.
    But the disconnect between the physical appearance of the attacker and what his senses were telling him created an instant of jangled chaos in his mind, slowing his reaction speed.
    A second figure flew out of the doorway.
    “Look out,” Raine shouted. “He’s got a knife.”
    The real Raine.
    She threw her purse at the attacker. It bounced off the fake Raine’s back and landed on the pavement. The blow couldn’t have done any real damage but it caused the phony Raine to glance back over a shoulder for a split second.
    The distraction must have interfered with his control because for a couple of heartbeats the fake Raine wavered and disappeared. A familiar-looking figure in a black ski mask appeared.
    Ski Mask dismissed the real Raine as a source of danger in the blink of an eye but that gave Zack time to get his gun out of his shoulder holster.
    It was impossible to line up a clear shot, however. The hunter-illusionist was moving too fast. In addition, Raine was behind him. If the bullet missed its target, which it probably would under the circumstances, there was a chance it might strike her.
    Ski Mask morphed back into Raine. He was only a couple of feet away now. Zack intuitively knew what he was going to do