The kidnapper stood. "Should have killed you when I had the chance."

"Your mistake."

The sounds of the police just down the road drifted. They were getting closer. A light had gone on in the cabin next door.

"You're not getting away," Nate said. "We know who you are."

"You don't know anything."

"Is that so, Richard?"

The man's eyes rounded like the moon before they narrowed into evil slits. He lifted the knife, aimed for Nate's chest.

Nate parried with his left hand, diverting the knife's aim. Brought the rock down on the man's head. Hard. Then again.

Rick stumbled, crashed into the cabin's wall. Dropped the knife.

Nate grabbed it, stepped back, and raised his arm again. Blood gushed through his pajamas. Reality overpowered adrenaline, making him weak. He couldn't wimp out now. This was for Marisa. And Ana.

But Richard Gray didn't move.

Chapter 36

MARISA RAN TOWARD THE police at the other cabin. As soon as she saw a figure, she screamed for help. The sounds of doors opening, men yelling, carried on the still night.

"Brady!" Her shout barely penetrated theirs. She tried, "Help!"

A uniformed officer ran toward her from the cabin. "Ma'am, you need to stay back."

"Help! He's down here."

The cop slowed as he neared her. "Go back in your house."

She gripped his arm. "I'm the woman you're trying to rescue. The kidnapper saw you coming. He's this way."

The man's eyes widened. He spoke into a walkie-talkie, relaying her message. "Backup's on the way."

"You have to hurry." She pulled uselessly on his arm. "They were fighting. He's going to kill him."

Finally, the words seemed to penetrate. "Show me."

Marisa turned and ran back toward Nate, the cop right beside her. She could hear more police officers behind them, catching up.

When she reached the edge of the cabin's property, she slowed. A man lay on the ground. Another stood over him. But which man was which? It was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness.

"Nate?"

"Stand back, ma'am." The officer passed her, his gun pointed at the two men. "Drop the knife."

The man took a few steps away from the figure on the ground, dropped the knife, and leaned against the cabin wall and slid to the ground. Marisa inched closer. Peered at his face. The blood, now dried, on his scalp. The rock still gripped in his right hand.

Nate. He was alive.

She ran forward, dropped to her knees, and threw her arms around him.

He winced, and she let him go. "I'm sorry. I hurt you." She backed up, searched his face for more injuries. "Are you all right?"

"I'll survive." His eyes met hers

"Ma'am, you need to step back."

She brushed bits of rock and dirt off Nate's cheek and rested her palm there, soaking in his warmth. She leaned forward, kissed his lips gently, and said, "Thank you."

"I didn't—"

"You did." She kissed him again.