The glass flew from Dane’s hand.
Mac was on the ground a few feet away. Katherine ran to him. She felt for his pulse. Beating. Breathing. Yes. He’d make it. Now if they could just find Ross and Maggie, maybe they’d all have a chance.
All but Valentine.
Cops always had a backup weapon, and going on a hunt with Valentine, there was no way Mac wouldn’t have come prepared.
She reached down near his ankle.
Yes.
Not a gun. A knife. He’d strapped a knife to his ankle.
She leapt back to her feet and ran toward the fighting men. The knife was gripped tightly in her fist. Dane and Valentine were staggering to their feet. Getting ready to slam into each other again.
No.
It ends.
“Valentine!”
He spun at her call.
She drove the knife into his chest. His hands closed around her arms. His body shuddered. “Good-bye, Michael,” she told him, voice breaking.
Because now she understood. Michael had wanted her help all along. He’d wanted her to save him, as she’d tried to save her mother.
Only saving Michael meant killing Valentine.
“I did it,” he whispered. “I died for you.” His fingers eased their grip on her. He staggered, then fell, his body slumping over.
In the next moment, Dane was there, pulling her against him. Holding her so close.
She heard a whoop-whoop-whoop fill the air, and a gust of wind blew over her face.
The helicopter. The helicopter was there.
It was landing. She could see the bright lights spilling from it.
“The…cavalry…” Valentine whispered.
Dane’s gaze was on Katherine’s neck. “Why the hell did you do that? He could have cut your throat wide open.”
“I shoved his wrist back. From that angle, he wasn’t going to be able to do much damage.” She’d practiced that move before. He didn’t realize how many self-defense classes she’d taken over the years. She’d tried to prepare herself, again and again, for this moment.
He pulled her against his chest again. Held tight. He was soaking wet, so was she, and she could feel the shudders that shook his body. Voice thick with fear and rage, he said, “I thought you were going to die in front of me.”
She’d been afraid that she might.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he ordered, and held her even tighter. “I think I lost about ten years of my life.”
Better than losing all of it.
Better than Mac losing his life.
Mac.
She and Dane rushed to the fallen man. There were other footsteps, racing toward them now. The helicopter had landed, and the EMTs and the cops who’d been on board were running to help. The EMTs. Valentine had made that request deliberately, because he knew that they would be hurt. That I might be hurt.
Mac was groaning and trying to open his eyes. A giant cut ran from his temple to his jawline. “Did we…get him?” he asked, squinting to see in the dark.
“Yeah, buddy, we did.” Dane clasped his hand.
Katherine glanced back at Valentine’s body. The knife handle rose from his chest. She’d driven that blade in as hard as she could.
His blood was on her hands.
She tried to wipe the blood onto her jeans. The sticky wetness clung to her.
“Good…” Mac rasped. “Hope…bastard…suffered…”
Not as much as his victims had suffered, no.
The EMTs broke through the brush.
“Here!” Dane shouted. “We’ve got an officer down!”
Two men and a woman immediately ran toward Dane.
“Anyone else injured?” Another guy called out. He was coming up at the rear.
Dane backed away so the EMTs could work on Mac. “Our prisoner was stabbed.” He was edging near Valentine’s body. Dane had his arms at his sides.
The last EMT headed toward Valentine. “No.” Dane grabbed the man’s arm, stopping him. “Where’s the cop with you?”
A woman pushed through the brush.
“Karen, give me your backup weapon,” Dane demanded when he saw the detective.
He took the gun from her. Checked the clip, then said, “Now let’s make damn sure he doesn’t have a pulse.”
They advanced on Valentine. Katherine didn’t move. She felt as if her muscles were locking down. One of the EMTs put a blanket around her shoulders. It didn’t make her feel any warmer.
Carefully, Dane crouched near Valentine. Dane’s fingers went to Valentine’s throat. Stayed there.
Katherine began to count in her mind.
One.
She saw Michael, as he’d been the day they first met. That wide grin. The sparkling eyes.
Two.
She saw him with the engagement ring. Down on one knee. Asking her to marry him.
Three.
She saw him in his black painting apron…a knife still in his hand. Blood. You didn’t come home soon enough. The words whispered through her mind.
Four.
She saw him as he’d been moments before, when he’d turned at her shout. He’d seemed almost…eager as he pushed toward her. As he thrust his body right at the knife, even angling his chest so that her knife would sink into just the right spot.
Five.
She saw Dane shake his head. Valentine—Michael—was gone.
Dane rose and walked toward her. “It should have been me,” he said, voice rumbling. He pulled her into his arms once more. “I should have been the one to kill him. You didn’t need that on your shoulders.”
Actually, she did. Valentine had wanted to be saved. And in the end, maybe he’d gotten just what he wanted.
Streaks of red were lighting up the dark sky. Dawn was coming now. The night was truly ending. The darkness gone.
“What the hell?” Dane growled, and his body stiffened against hers.
She turned in his arms, followed his stare. With the rising of the sun, she could just make out the battered form of a small shack at the edge of the swamp.
“Sonofabitch.” Dane blew out a disbelieving breath. “He brought us to them. He brought us to them.”
It looked as if Valentine had kept his part of the bargain, to a certain extent. But would Maggie and Ross be alive?
She and Dane started running as one. Slogging through the mud, shoving away the bushes and branches. Dane yelled for backup.
The EMTs had loaded Mac onto a stretcher.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
She and Dane kept running.
Then he was at the shack’s door. He had his weapon drawn. “New Orleans PD!” he yelled. “We’re coming in!”