It couldn’t be Wolfe outside. He’d probably just be landing, and the airstrip was at least thirty minutes away. Dana sat on the edge of the sofa, her body tense and ready if an opportunity came. “I’m a journalist because I like to write.” She tried to look into the kitchen but could only see Roscoe’s motionless tail. Her eyes filled and she batted emotion away. “Articles right now, but like most journalists, I’ve thought about writing a book. Maybe some sort of young adult novel with an element of science fiction.”

Gary’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Dana? Do you think my getting to know you is going to help somehow?”

“It can’t hurt,” she said. “Why don’t we talk and get to know each other?”

He stared at her chest. “I want to know two things about you. First, how loud can you scream, and second, is your blood sweet or spicy tasting?”

Something buzzed, and he reached in one of his many pockets for a small phone. “It’s about time,” he muttered, lifting it to his ear while also pointing the gun back at her. “Where the hell have you been?”

If she could get into the bedroom, she could lock the door and run for the window. She stiffened.

He shook his head and dropped the aim of the gun to her leg. Then he frowned, his nostrils widening. “What are you saying to me?”

Dread slammed into Dana.

Gary focused on her, his eyes hardening. “All of it? Are you sure?” He swallowed and red infused his thick neck. “I’m going to kill you when I find you. Just so you know.” He clicked off, his face frighteningly intense. “Well. I guess we know where Wolfe is.” He tucked the phone back into the pocket and reached for a wickedly sharp-looking knife. “We should get started.”

* * *

Wolfe swung open the helicopter door and jumped from the military transport, his mind on Dana. Maybe she’d wear that yellow baby-doll thing again if he asked nicely, after he’d taken a shower and gotten out of this black mission clothing. He stopped cold at the sight of Brigid waiting for him next to a souped-up sports car. Her Irish green eyes swallowed up her pale face. He reached her in seconds. “What’s happened?”

Her teeth chattered. “Gary Rockcliff is at your place right now.” She’d barely gotten the words out before he ran around and dropped into the driver’s seat. She opened the passenger door and sat, securing her seat belt as he ignited the engine and spun away from the tarmac.