He’d planned to follow up with a knife in the heart, but Superman Callahan didn’t even go down on his knees. He absorbed the blow and swung around fast and hard, his entire body poised for the fight. Major Stud knew how to handle himself in battle. That was clear. Robert did not. He was a floor-mopper—he used to get the shit kicked out of him at school. He could feel the old panic welling up in his throat.

He slashed the knife wildly, catching Callahan in the upper arm.

Next thing, the major had the kayak paddle. Robert had no idea how the bastard had gotten it. He could feel himself breaking out in a sweat under his flapping poncho. Now what?

His gun—damn, it wasn’t in his waistband under his poncho. He must have dropped it behind the goddamn rosebush!

He pointed the knife at the major. Stand off. Robert knew if he went after Callahan, he’d get the kayak paddle up the side of his head. On the other hand, if the wannabe senator went after him, he’d get the knife up whatever Robert could reach first.

“You don’t want me to kill you now,” Robert said, like he had the definite upper hand and didn’t realize it was a standoff. “Then the bitch doctor will be at my mercy.”

They were both drenched, fighting the wind. Puddles formed at their feet. The grass was so slippery, it made it almost impossible to get any decent traction. If he fell, Robert figured he’d end up stabbing himself. Then he’d bleed to death. The doctor wouldn’t help him now that he’d stabbed her stud boyfriend and nailed him in the kidneys. Forget the Hippocratic Oath. Forget the law. She’d let him bleed to death in the sand. Pretend Hope had done the damage.

That would be it for him. The end of the story. There’d be no revenge, no justice, no satisfaction.

“The storm’s hitting,” Callahan said, ignoring his bleeding arm as he kept a tight, menacing grip on the paddle. “You don’t want to be out here. Put down the knife—”

“So you can kill me and tell the police it was self-defense? Hell, no.”

The major didn’t react. It was amazing. Talk about control. “What’s your name?” he asked, all tight-lipped. “Fuck you.”

“Come on. Put down the knife. You haven’t hurt anyone yet.”

“You.”

“Not that much. I’ll let it go if you put down the knife and come inside with me. The hurricane—”

“I’m not worried about the hurricane.”

But Robert glanced up at the cottage. The bitch doctor was there in the screen door. So beautiful. Damn, it wasn’t easy to be strong and go through with what he knew he had to do.

He wasn’t going to beat Callahan in a fair fight.