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Back Vortex Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

Another man whispered back in English, but again his words were muffled, indistinct. Then she heard them moving toward the house.

Olivia’s blood pumped hot and wild but her brain was calm, focused. She went down flat on her belly so there was no chance they’d see her. She smiled. Come to Mama, boys.

When the two dark shadows reached the front door, they tried to avoid the porch light but she saw both were dressed in black, their faces covered, and both carried guns with suppressors. Olivia slowly rose and shouted, “Drop your weapons. You know who I am, and you know I will shoot you.”

The taller man dropped to his knees and fired until his magazine was empty, but she was already belly-flat against the ground again and the shots went well above her. She fired twice, watched him fall beside the front steps. The other man was backing up fast, firing, then he turned and ran back into the trees. She fired after him, but she didn’t hit him.

7

Savich and Sherlock

Georgetown

Washington, D.C.

Monday evening

Sherlock looked over at Sean, sprawled on his stomach on the living room rug, looking through the first book of the Magic Tree House series, a gift from his grandparents in San Francisco. “Mama, Papa, it’s not really a tree house, it’s a time machine!”

Savich and Sherlock were sitting side by side on the sofa, enjoying the soft rustling of the flames in the fireplace when Sean shouted, “Dinosaurs!” Savich imagined time travel would be all his son would talk about with his friends in school tomorrow. Savich leaned down and ruffled his son’s dark hair, the same shade as his. No head of red curls like his mother’s, he’d tell her, and sometimes she punched him for it.

Sherlock tucked her feet beneath her and leaned into Dillon, her curly hair tickling his nose. She tilted her head up, kissed his chin. “This is so nice, Dillon, like another dessert after the tiramisu.” She nipped his chin again and he closed his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. Though Sean was time-traveling back to the era of the Tyrannosaurus rex, Savich kept his voice low; Sean had bat ears and endless curiosity. “It’s going to be even more frigid in New York than here, so dress warm.”

She settled in, sighed. “I can’t imagine it being any colder. What a March. You know I couldn’t say no, and Kelly wouldn’t ask me to come up if she weren’t in a jam, although what she thinks I can do baffles me.”

He raised a dark brow. “Baffles you? Why?”

“It’s not like there aren’t dozens of really smart agents in Manhattan. Why me?”