The passenger door was under the porthole. Sam was sprawled across the passenger seat, his head bloodied. The roof of the car was full of bullet holes. She called him again, over the sound of the horn. He groaned. She heard Gregory climbing down from the flying bridge. “Sam! Wake up!” The horn stopped. Sam looked up at her and shook his head as if to clear it. “Sam! You’ve got to get up!” The door behind her rattled. Gregory. Did he think Sam was dead? Gregory hit the door with his shoulder — next time, he wasn’t going to be so polite. Amy balled her first and punched through the plastic mesh. She reached down. “Give me the gun, Sam! Quick! In the name of God, hurry!”

He moved to the passenger window, holding an automatic up toward her outstretched hand. Gregory hit the door harder. Amy got the gun and turned to the cabin as Gregory came barreling through, small, silver-plated automatics in both hands, shards of teak molding flying before him. When he regained his balance, Amy was pointing her gun with both hands at the center of his chest. Gregory smiled.

“You won’t shoot.”

“The hell I won’t! You terrorized me! I’ll shoot you if you twitch! And if I shoot you in the heart — and I will! — you’ll live just six more seconds!”

Gregory started to raise his arm. Amy shot him through the heart. He looked up in disbelief from the hole in the center of his chest. Amy shot him between the eyes and he sprawled back on the bed.

“I lied,” she said. Now fuck yourself in hell.”

“I’m a mess,” Merrill said. The pain was beginning to build. “I poisoned our luck.”

Amy put the gun on the hood of the car and pulled him up to a sitting position in the driver’s seat, his feet on the blacktop. He poured blood onto the pavement. “You didn’t poison anything,” she said. “We’re almost out of here. Where are you hit?”

“Above my knee. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She tore his shirt open at the shoulder.

Quickly he told her about the cutter five miles out to sea. “I have stuff to tell you that will keep you alive in case I die.”

“You won’t die. You’re bleeding from the head and down your back. It looks like the bullet that grazed the side of your head caused a through-and-through in the muscle of your shoulder. Let me take care of your leg first.”

He was still taking her in with his eyes. A nightie? A silk nightie? “What the hell was he doing?”

“He was going to kill me. He thought he’d killed you. Killing made him hot. I saw him in action against the guys who kidnapped me. Instant bliss. Maybe you weren’t enough to satisfy him.”