‘You bitch!’ Matt was yelling. ‘You’ll pay for that. Get yourself over here now.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She spoke as coolly as her thumping heart allowed. ‘Your patella’s cracked, Matt. You won’t walk on that leg, much less drive anywhere, and you might as well face the fact. It’s over.’

He must have been in considerable pain but he managed a grating laugh. ‘I don’t think so, bitch. Not unless you want our boy wonder dead. Get back here, take a look an’ work out who’s got the upper hand. Won’t take me but a moment to do for ’im.’

His words filled Tilly with a sudden dread. She stepped cautiously closer, being careful to remain beyond his reach. As the harsh light revealed the truth, her shoulders sagged and the fight went out of her. While she had been disposing of the gun, Matt had wriggled himself about, probably with considerable pain, until he had managed to snag Luke’s leg and drag his unconscious form close enough that the blade of the knife in his hand was resting against Luke’s unconscious throat.

Chapter Thirty-three

The surge of adrenalin that had powered her movements vanished, leaving Tilly sick and shaken. She had scarcely given a thought to Gerry’s sacrifice, but now the sight of his body sprawled in death brought her to her knees and tears to her eyes. He had lied and cheated and done much worse, and he had deceived her and lost their child, but she had loved him once. And he must have still loved her to have flung himself into the path of the bullet that would have killed her. The sobs kept coming, not helped by the sight of Luke stretched insensible before her with that wicked blade threatening his life.

‘Waterworks ain’t gonna help you,’ Matt growled. ‘So shut it and gimme a hand up. You’re gonna drive me out to meet some mates of mine. Try anythin’ and you’ll be dead meat. Upside is, behave yourself and Luke makes it home, always supposin’ Gerry didn’t hit him too hard. Got it?’

Hating him, Tilly swallowed a final sob. ‘And then? You’re going to let me go, I suppose?’

His lips drew back in a grimace – of pain or mirth, she couldn’t tell. ‘Yeah. You can walk back. Won’t be much above ninety kay.’ This time the grin was real and evil. ‘We might have your shoes first, but.’

Even if he meant it, which she doubted, she would never make it. Her feet were soft; they might carry her a kilometre or so, but the stone and spinifex would defeat her. Besides, why wouldn’t he just kill her? Eyeing the knife, she swallowed terror, but if she dodged past him now and ran, Luke would die. That was certain and when Sophie grew alarmed at their continued absence, and came looking . . .