By the time he reached his campsite, he was covered with at least a hundred mosquito bites. He wondered if Dr. Antonia would treat him if he broke out in a fever or got West Nile or malaria or something. She had to. It would be unethical not to. Illegal, even. She was the one who’d told him she had to report his gunshot wound to the police.

The looks on their faces when they discovered the boat was gone—it had been worth it. They were back in the cottage by the time he’d slipped back across the island, but that was okay. He still had time, and he liked the idea that they had a few minutes to fret, try to put the pieces together, come to terms with the gravity of their situation.

It did suck. He wondered if they had any idea just how much it did, in fact, suck.

The cottage broke some of the wind coming off the Sound, but it was raining again, not a soft, gentle rain, either. Robert was already tired of it, but knew it’d only get worse.

He had to get his final plan together, but he couldn’t think with all the distractions of his pain, his itching, his delight in imagining the two of them scared shitless just a few yards away.

The back door creaked open.

Robert sank low, not breathing, as Hank Callahan walked out onto the back steps.

Superman Hank. He didn’t look as if he’d been fretting. He looked like some kind of sniper on the lookout. He had an alert, military feel about him that Robert didn’t like at all.

Bastard. The arrogant bastard.

He should be quivering! Scared out of his mind!

Robert felt his nostrils flare, like he was a pissed off bull in a rodeo or something. “Screw it.” He didn’t know if he spoke out loud, didn’t care. He wasn’t taking any more chances with this puke—time to put the major out of commission. “Yeah. Screw it.”

Without further angsting, Robert raised one half of the kayak paddle in one hand and the knife in the other and leaped out from the sprawling rosebush, thorns ripping harmlessly across his poncho. He slipped in the wet grass, but didn’t fully lose his footing as he lunged for the back steps.

Callahan was looking in the opposite direction. The wind and the ocean were making so much noise, Robert was able to get a split second jump on him.

Flawlessly, in one effective motion, he hit the major in the kidneys with the paddle.

It was like hitting a tree trunk.

Robert was stunned. “Fuck!”