Final Round

Harley recovered his mask of i

“I don’t think so.”

“Co

“Save the performance for the trial, Harley. I’ve been in that window listening for the past ten minutes.” She pressed her gun into the small of his back. “Now march. I’ve got a jail cell with your name on it.”

“All right. I’ll go. No need to get rough.” His body slumped. “Shouldn’t you get the knife? It’s your best evidence.”

Her eyes diverted for barely a fraction of a second, but it was all Harley needed. In the blink of an eye, he whirled around, ducking in case she fired the gun, and bashed his elbow back into her face. O’Brien went reeling backward, blood spurting from her nose, her head smashing into a row of lockers. Before she had a chance to react, Harley lunged forward, twisted her wrist, and wrested the gun away from her.

Co

Co

Harley pressed the gun hard against O’Brien’s right temple. “I mean it! I’ll blow her head to kingdom come!”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Harley. Killing her won’t help you.”

“Killing both of you will,” he muttered.

Co

O’Brien’s eyelids fluttered. Blood still oozed from her nose, which looked as if it might be broken. Dark circles were forming around her eyes. “I’m all right,” she said, not very convincingly.

“Enough chatter!” Harley barked. “Move!” He tried to edge toward the door, holding O’Brien’s body in front of him like a shield. But O’Brien seemed barely conscious, dead weight. Each step was harder than the one before.

Co

Harley made it to the exit. He released his grip on O’Brien’s throat and she fell in a crumpled heap at his feet. He cocked the gun again, then pointed it toward her head. “This is where you get off, sweetheart.”

Co

Harley twisted the gun around, but Co

“You-stupid-idiot!” Harley reared back his fist and took a shot at Co

Desperate, Harley reared his foot back and kicked O’Brien in the ribs, hard. A sharp cry spilled forth from her lips.

“Stop!” Co

Harley saw his opportunity and took it. He turned tail and bolted out the door.

Co

Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. “I’ll be fine,” she said. She wiped some of the blood from her face. “I just didn’t want that creep to drag me clear across the golf course.”

Co

“Later,” she said. To his surprise, she pushed herself upright. “Let’s get that bastard before he disappears and becomes someone else.”

With Co

“There!” Co

O’Brien raised her gun and fired, without success. “Damn. He’s out of range. And if he gets off the grounds, our chances of finding him are about nil.”

Together, they started ru

O’Brien fired another shot, but it had no more effect than the first time. He was too far away.

Still racing, they crossed the driving range. Co

“You keep ru

He swung, sending the first ball over O’Brien’s head and landing about ten feet in front of Harley, who saw it, paused momentarily-then kept on ru

You’ll have to do better than that, Co

Co

The next shot struck pay dirt. It came barreling across the course like a line drive and crashed into the back of Harley’s head. He screamed out, then stumbled and dropped to the ground.

Harley shook his head fiercely, regathering his wits. Gritting his teeth, ignoring the pain, he pulled himself back to his feet.

But the golf balls kept coming. Co

Co

He concentrated and tried to do everything he’d been told. He knew where Harley was. He knew where Harley was going. He knew where he wanted the ball to be. He pulled back the club… and fired.

The ball crashed into the back of Harley’s head, bringing him down hard. And this time, he did not get back up. A few moments later, O’Brien caught up to him. She whipped his hands behind his back and snapped on the cuffs. “It’s over, scumbag.”

A few moments later, Co

“I let this jerk get the drop on me once,” she said, wiping more blood from her face. “I wasn’t going to let it happen again.” As if to demonstrate, she pressed down on the back of Harley’s head and shoved his face into the dirt.

“Bit rough for a Southern belle, aren’t you?” Co

“My momma didn’t raise any wussies.” O’Brien drank in air, trying to catch her breath. “Besides, see for yourself-this creep is wearing white shoes, and it’s still a week before Easter. There’s just no damn excuse for that.”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks for your help, Co

Co

“That was pretty slick work with the golf balls.”

Co