Chapters (82)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- Praise for Blood in the Water
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
The cold sliced through the windbreaker and her jacket underneath, and it felt as though her fingers were frozen to her 9mm Glock. She could have worn gloves, but she didn’t trust the feel of a gun through the material. Even in the freezing cold, she was more comfortable with her skin against the weapon
She was picking her way through the giant piles of earth and construction material, alert to every sound and every movement, her heart pounding and her breath coming in desperate, shallow gulps she struggled to control.
As she came around a corner where two piles of gravel intersected, she sensed movement—feeling rather than seeing it—and spun and ducked at the same time, her two hands coming up with her gun, aiming it toward the gravel.
The pain was exquisite as the heavy metal connected with her forearm, and the gun went off as it was knocked from her hands. She could hear shouts from the tactical squad, and she knew they would be there to help in a matter of seconds, but it wasn’t clear that she would survive those seconds. Carpio was raising the rebar above his head again, looking into her eyes, aiming for her forehead. He was moving forward awkwardly, as though unsteady on his feet, his own eyes cold and calculating. The thought to punch at him flashed through her mind, but she wasn’t sure whether her arm was broken. It was too cold, and the pain was too acute to know. Instead she swept her left leg forward, aiming to take his feet out from under him. She hoped that he would lose his balance and that would disrupt his aim enough to prevent him from shattering her skull.
The impact, though, was far more effective than she anticipated. Her shin connected with his right ankle, and his cold, calculating eyes went wide with pain and fury. Carpio let out a scream like a wounded animal, and he swung the rebar wildly as he toppled over. He hit the ground just to the left of her, and she knew that her advantage would be short-lived. She lashed out with her left elbow, driving it into his face, satisfied with the dull crunching sound she heard as his nose snapped.
The shouts from the tactical team were close now, and she got to her feet. Her gun was a few feet away, and she grabbed it with her left hand. Carpio was on all fours, spitting blood into the ground, and she stepped to him and kicked him hard in the ribs, flipping him over. He looked up at her, and the hatred in his eyes was unmistakable. “Whore!” he screamed at her.