Back-to-back gunshots went off behind him. They echoed through the large, empty space, punctuated by the sound of Tera Montecino crying out in pain. It sounded like she’d caught a bullet. Something was going their way, at least.

Kill that big ol’ whore, Rube, he shouted, or maybe he just thought it. He wiped his eyes and looked toward the restaurant—saw nothing in the gloom. What he did see, not too far away, was one of Xander’s fingers on the floor, then another. They led like bread crumbs to Xander’s .45, wrapped in shadow beneath one of the tables.

Johan retrieved it, aimed groggily, and fired two bullets into the hallway down which Luke and Kitty had disappeared. He blew out the exit sign—lucky shot—and popped one into the door beneath it. Wood splintered.

Xander writhed on the floor, holding his bleeding leg with his bleeding hand. Johan shuffled over to him, wondering if his berserker still had something in the tank.

“Can you aim a gun?” he asked.

Xander gasped and held up his right hand. One finger and one thumb remained. “I’m fucking mutilated.”

Johan threw the gun at him. “Use your left hand. Get after them.”

“Jesus, Johan, I—”

“How far can they go? They’re in the middle of the desert.” Johan lifted Krókr and pressed its cool blade to his chest. “I’ll take the front hallway—make sure they don’t double back.”

Xander got to his feet and hobbled in the same direction as Luke and Kitty. Johan watched him—gritting his teeth, his vision doubling—until another burst of gunfire from the darkened restaurant startled him into action. He took a leveling breath, palmed blood from his face, and started across the spacious lobby. His Viking ancestors howled. They banged and crashed. Gottfrid the Bird was among them, the loudest of all.

Yet more gunfire behind him. Everything cranked and violent.

Johan pulled his bleeding shoulders square.

They followed the exit signs and emerged poolside. It was bare and lifeless, with the emergency lighting throwing a hesitant glow at ground level, like a low fog. There were no recliners or tables, only an empty cabana bar and a few creaking palms. An eight-foot wall separated this part of the hotel grounds from the outside world. The pool itself was hollow, a dim green in the meager light.

“Wait,” Kitty said. “Let’s untie you. You’ll move quicker.”

Luke nodded and turned around. Kitty started on the tight triple knot in his belt, working quickly, despite her trembling hands.

“You see a way out?” Luke asked.

“There’s a gate over there, in the wall.”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded. “Okay.”