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Sheila shook her head, gasping for breath. She was not going to give up so easily, not going to let this man get away with what he had done.
With a surge of hidden strength, she brought her knee up between them, hitting him hard in the groin. He gave a choked grunt of surprise, and his grip loosened for a second. She shoved him away, then sprang to her feet and backpedaled, raising her fists.
“Come on,” she said. “Do your worst.”
The man rose, looking amused. “Okay,” he said, his eyes glinting with a malevolent delight. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
They circled each other, the space between them seeming to pulse with an energy that was almost electric. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he surged forward, arms outstretched as if to tackle her to the ground. But Sheila was ready. She pivoted on her heel and sidestepped him easily, then brought her fist down on the back of his neck with all the power she could muster. He grunted and dropped to one knee.
Sheila grabbed his right arm to twist it behind his back, but before she could do so, he threw his left elbow back, connecting with her cheek and sending her sprawling. Sheila tasted blood in her mouth.
"You're tougher than I gave you credit for," he said, his eyes narrowing. There was a grudging admiration in his voice.
"And you’re uglier,” she said, wiping the blood from her mouth. She stood tall, despite the throbbing in her cheek and her wavering vision.
He laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the trees. "That’s the spirit."
He charged at her again. This time, Sheila didn't dodge. Instead, she met his rush head-on, her fist connecting with his jaw. He stumbled back, surprise flashing in his eyes.
Sheila didn't give him any time to recover. She danced toward him, taking advantage of his imbalance, and caught him by surprise with a swift uppercut that caused him to stagger backward a few more steps.
Without giving him time to recover, Sheila planted her left foot and kicked out with her right, striking him squarely in the jaw. The sound of his teeth clacking together reverberated through the quiet forest as he went crashing to the dirt floor below.
Sheila looked down at him, her chest rising and falling heavily as she tried to catch her breath. Pain throbbed in every part of her body, but she ignored it. She couldn’t let him get the drop on her a second time.
The man groaned, shifting. He started to rise.
“Stay down,” Sheila warned.
“You made one…fatal…mistake,” he muttered, his hand sliding through the leaves. Then Sheila caught the gleam of moonlight on steel.
Her gun. He’d found it.
He smiled, his mouth bloody as he turned to face her, aiming the dark eye of the weapon at her heart. “Looks like I’ll get the last laugh.”
As Sheila tensed, a gunshot rang out. The man went on staring at her, his face frozen, and Sheila waited for her body to tell her where she’d just been shot. No such sensation came, however.
Then the man dropped the gun and sank back into the leaves, looking confused. He tried to say something, but no words came.
There was a rustle in the undergrowth, and Sheila turned to see Finn emerge, supported by Beverly, both of them looking weary beyond words.
Finn lowered his gun, his face grim. “I hate when people don’t fight fair.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Sheila rubbed her bruised jaw and winced, feeling the events of the last few days finally catching up with her as she sat on the hospital bed and waited for the nurse to return.
Thus far, she’d been given every indication that she’d escaped the ordeal with no serious injuries, which was a huge relief considering her history of head injuries. But she was more concerned about Finn and Beverly. Finn had lost a lot of blood from the leg injury he’d suffered when he’d fallen into the killer’s trap, and Beverly—
Well, there was no telling what she’d been through, held captive by a sociopath.
The door opened just then, and Finn came limping in, followed by a stout nurse with a doughy face. "You really shouldn't be out of your bed," she protested, but Finn ignored her and flashed a reassuring smile at Sheila.
"I've been through worse," he said, his eyes crinkling with concern as he looked her over.
Sheila didn't return his smile. "You should be resting," she said. He might be tough—and he was—but he was mortal, too, and Sheila knew it took time to recover from losing so much blood.
"Besides,” Finn said, “I thought you might need some company." He winced slightly and looked down at his bandaged leg.
