Page 219 of Deep Cover

I sucked in a breath and just for a second I was distracted. Vincent struck, and I jumped backwards, catching my foot on a pair of heels left out, starting to fall. This time Vincent did slash sideways and the blade raked across my ribs even as I sucked in my breath, sucked in my entire body, trying to become a C shape, the middle of me drawn away from him.

The pain was brilliant and blinding and hot.

His hand kept going but he was already trying to turn it back, this time jabbing with the end of the blade, probably meaning to punch before reversing the swing to stab.

I stepped into that move because the punch would be nothing compared to a stab or another slide from the straight razor, like one to my face. My throat. The artery running through my thighs.

He was gagging on the punches to his throat, spit running from his mouth, but he wasn't stopping.

Neither was I.

I stepped into his swing, barely feeling the blow to my ribs with the end of the knife, the side of his fist where thumb and forefinger wrapped.

I was focused on slamming my fist into his throat again and when he tried to shake me off, I used the heel of my hand and drove it upward, putting as much strength as I could behind the blow, hitting him under the nose and driving it up and back into his brain.

He screamed, a keening sound, started toward me as if his brain didn't realize yet that it was mortally wounded.

"Annie! Down!"

I flattened myself on the floor and one shot rang out. From where I was, I jacked my head up and stared up at Vincent.

A red flower bloomed on his forehead, neatly between his eyes, about the place where the cartilage from his nose should have ripped into the tissue of his brain.

Finally his body and mind got the message. The stone cold eyes rolled up.

He fell, twitching, and went still.

He didn't get back up.

I pushed myself to my feet. He was too close to me. Too many absurd horror movie scenarios were playing through my mind. He'd get back up. He'd come after me. He'd never stop coming.

"Annie."

I shook my head, getting to my feet without looking at anything or anyone else. Just in case. Everything else in the room – everything else that was saying my name – had to be safe. Or at least benign. Because –

"Annie."

"Cole?"

I turned my head away from Vincent Geddes' body and stared in disbelief at Cole St. Martin, holding the gun that had put the hole in Vincent's head. I looked back at Vincent. Then I looked at Cole. His eyes were unblinking, unflinching. He watched me.

I stepped away from Vincent Geddes and walked directly into Cole's arms.

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