She pulled out her knife as she came over the top. One good stab—

Gilmont placed the barrel of the rifle against her head. She looked up into his face. His eyes glowed with victory.

“Search her.” Gilmont’s lips mouthed the words, but the noise of the falls swallowed them whole.

One sideways glance at Gilmont’s cohort gave Elise all the information she needed. His skin held a greenish cast, and the whites of his eyes showed brightly around his irises. The man provided no threat—nor help, for that matter. He was Gilmont’s frightened pawn.

The man took her knife and handed it to his boss. Gilmont stuffed her blade into his back pocket. The skinny man patted her down, locating the handgun in her waist holster. That, too, went to Gilmont.

The corners of Gilmont’s lips curved, and he set down the rifle and pointed her own Glock at her.

Continuing his search, Gilmont’s underling found her thigh sheath and made her take it off. Then he checked her legs, leaving her boots untouched.

She stared straight ahead. Her grandfather’s small sgian dubh remained in her possession—one small knife to fight off the devil’s spawn.

Virtually weaponless in Gilmont’s eyes, she faced the man who had killed her partner. Anger bubbled within her. Her eyes slid to the rifle he had set aside. Was it still loaded?

Gilmont caught her. Quick as a flash, he tucked Elise’s glock away and uloaded the shells from the rifle. Then he kicked the shells over the side of the gorge, rendering the firearm useless.

He smiled at her, a hollow stretching of lips, then motioned for her to hold out her hands. Hatred emanated off him in waves and scored every feature. Elise gauged her survival on the fact that Gilmont had brought her to the surface instead of shooting her in the gorge.

He wanted her alive for the time being. Why? That she had yet to decipher.

Again, he gestured for her to hold out her arms. Elise refused and pinned her limbs to her sides. She couldn’t allow Gilmont to tie her up, not with Sammy’s safety in question. If the wee lad climbed up from the river, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

Gilmont’s face twisted and turned a splotchy puce. He pointed her Glock in her face. Elise’s heart skittered. At this range, Gilmont couldn’t miss.

Six bullets remained in her clip. Right now, that was six bullets too many. She’d been saving them to fight him off.

Elise lifted her chin, her eyes on Gilmont instead of the weapon. She refused to show her fear. To a megalomaniac of Gilmont’s ilk, her behavior was like grease to a flame. His skin deepened to dark mahogany, and his finger trembled on the trigger.