"Put the gun down, Madison, or the kid is dead meat." He jammed the muzzle of his gun under Josh's chin for effect, the teen's eyes widening perceptibly.

Jo snorted with derision. "Do that and you'll be dead a millisecond later, Marco, and you know it," she replied, taking another step towards them. "Why don't you let the boy go and then you and I can really get down to business." She kept her voice low and intimidating, her natural alto deepening almost to a throaty growl.

For the first time since he decided to come after Jo Madison, di Santo hesitated.

Jo's flinty blue eyes didn't miss the uncertainty that flashed across his wide, flat face. She laughed coldly. "You dumb f.u.c.k, Marco. When you came chasing up here, didn't you think it might be a good idea to have some kind of plan?" She grinned wildly, taking another step towards him, her gun aimed steadily at the point where his two eyebrows met. "You can't kill him, because you know that's your death sentence. And you obviously don't want me dead-there are much less complicated ways of killing me, and you certainly didn't have to come here in person for that." She stepped closer again. "So you must want something from me."

She was close enough now to see the beads of sweat on the big man's upper lip.

"So let the boy go, Marco. He's served his purpose. I'm here. Let him go and let's get serious. Because, frankly, I don't care if you live or die." Another step closer and now the two guns were within inches of each other.

Jo could almost hear di Santo's brain churning through the possibilities. He had to know he was no match for her reflexes and speed. She smiled again at him, never dropping eye contact.

Finally, the hit man shoved Josh away. The teenager fell awkwardly since his arms were still tied behind his back.

"Josh," Jo said quietly, never taking her eyes from di Santo, "can you stand up?"

"Y-yes, I think so," he said shakily, struggling to get to his feet.

"Okay. Come here." Slowly Jo lifted her leg and with her free hand, drew her knife from her sock. When Josh limped to her side she slid the blade between his hands, slicing through the ropes around his wrists. "Now get out of here, Josh. Just walk out the door and keep on going. Don't try anything silly, okay?"

He nodded silently, eyes wide and round with apprehension. "Y-you'll be okay?"

She laughed softly, her eyes still locked with di Santo's. "Yes, mate, I'll be fine. Go on now."

He didn't need telling three times. Josh bolted for the front door and disappeared out into the rain.

Jo and di Santo stood motionless, arms raised, guns c.o.c.ked for several more silent seconds.

"You f.u.c.ked up, Marco," Jo said quietly. "You came up here with a c.r.a.ppy plan and incompetent back-up. There are only two outcomes here. We kill each other, or the police come through that door." She paused for thought. "And even then I might just decide to kill you to save on the paperwork."

Slowly she lowered her arm, reached behind her and tucked the gun back into the waistband of her shorts. She flicked the knife in her other hand toward the back wall of the living room, where it lodged point first, the blade thrumming.

She took a bigger chance and turned her back on the hit man who hadn't moved. She wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of c.o.ke. Looking up as she cracked open the can, she noticed he'd followed her every movement with the gun. She had to smile.

"You don't mind if I have a drink from my own fridge, do you Marco?" she asked sarcastically. "I've had quite the day." She tipped back the can and drank deeply, welcoming the sugar hit. She had been starting to feel light-headed-probably from blood loss-though she still refused to look at the wound on her arm. Jo finished the drink, threw the empty can in the general direction of the garbage bin, and walked back into the living area.

"So what is it, Marco? Was this visit just a revenge mission?" She circled him slowly, forcing the man to pivot around as he kept her in his sights. "Though, really, you should be thanking me. I got rid of Tony, opened up the field for you. Or are things not going quite as well as you'd hoped?"

That hit a raw nerve. "Shut up, b.i.t.c.h. I'm the one here to do the talking."

Jo flopped down onto the leather couch, throwing her arms across the back casually like it was any summer afternoon. "So talk, Marco. Right now you're just spinning like a fat, sweaty top. What do you want?"

He stalked toward her until he towered over her. Roughly he kicked her legs apart and stepped between them, pushing them outwards with his own. "You."

Oh, he shouldn't have done that. Now he's got me really mad.

She turned steely blue eyes on the hit man and dropped her voice to its most intimidating level as she folded her arms across her chest. "And what could you possibly offer that would make me want to be within a thousand miles of you?" she growled, her legs twitching with the urge to kick him across the room.

This time it was di Santo who smiled. He leaned down, resting his left hand on the back of the couch beside Jo's head and using his right to push the muzzle of the gun up under her chin. His bad breath washed over her, but neither unpleasantness made her flinch. "For a start, I won't send someone out west to kill your parents," he said. "Second, you'll be well-paid. Better than Tony ever gave you. And third," he reached down and grabbed his crotch, squeezing it suggestively, "you'll get all you'll ever need of this."

It never fails to amaze me how a man truly believes his p.e.n.i.s is the center of the universe, Jo thought with disgust, even as she leaned forward as if to kiss di Santo. She stopped bare millimeters from his mouth. "And what is it you would like me to do in return for all these... favors?" she purred, pushing down the bile rising in her throat.

"What you've always done, gorgeous," he replied. "Kill. Stop me from being killed. And of course, the added privilege of taking a d.a.m.n good f.u.c.king from me whenever I want it."

Jo smiled seductively even as the white-hot rage grew inside her. She kept his focus firmly on her lips by licking them slowly, but her hand snaked out. She waited a half-beat then bit down on the hit-man's fat lower lip as hard as she could, at the same time as her long, strong fingers wrapped around his genitals and pulled down hard.

She bit until she tasted blood and then let go with her teeth, but by then the big man was doubled over and screaming as she felt things tear beneath her fingers. Still she pulled, twisting and yanking as di Santo fell to his knees in front of her.

The cold darkness had Jo in its total control now, and she gave it full rein, a red haze dropping down in front of her eyes. She let go of the howling gangster's groin just long enough to get behind him and she leaned in so her face was close to his right ear. By now he was whimpering, and tears of pain streamed down his face.

"You and I go back a long way, Marco," she snarled. "And I have a very good memory. Did you really think I could put all that behind me just because I was so dazzled by the prospect of your d.i.c.k? Which, by the way, is never going to be the same, and was never that impressive in the first place, as I recall."

"You G.o.dd.a.m.n f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!" he screamed.

She pulled his head back by what was left of his spa.r.s.e hair. "Oh please, Marco, don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel." As she spoke, Jo took the garrote from its place on her belt, flicking it around the hit man's neck in one swift movement. "And now I'm going to make sure you never have the chance to hurt anyone else, ever again, you tiny sc.u.mbag."

With each word she tightened the thin, metal wire around his throat. At first di Santo was more concerned about his groin, and he moaned again as he realized he was bleeding. The throbbing pain was excruciating. But the garrote began to bite as Jo slowly closed the deadly noose, and he let go of himself, raising his hands to his throat in a desperate attempt to pull the wire away.

Jo laughed coldly, and with images from her past dancing in front of her eyes and lightning flashing across the sky, she began squeezing the man's life away.

Cadie elbowed her way through the group of uniformed police until she reached Ken Harding, who was standing outside the front door of Jo's house.

"I'm going in with you," she declared firmly, hands on hips.

Harding looked down at the blonde American, who was trying to look defiant despite being soaked to the skin. "No, Miss Jones, you're not. I don't know how they do it in your country, but here in Australia, cops don't let civilians wander into the middle of this kind of operation. This isn't an episode of NYPD Blue, ya know."

Cadie stepped forward and got in the man's face, her finger poking him in the belly. "That's my friend in there. And I'm going in with you, no matter what you say. So please don't make this any more difficult that it already is."

Her green eyes sparked and he was hard-pressed to resist. He had spent a part of the last hour while they waited for reinforcements from Airlie Beach telling Cadie the little he knew about Jo Madison. It had made him realize that he actually knew very little about the tall ex-a.s.sa.s.sin. None of what he'd told her had seemed to faze Cadie a bit, but then he had left out the gory details of her friend's former life, telling her the bare facts.

Jesus Christ, he sighed. I don't have the time to argue with her. And the bottom line is, she's about to get an eyeful of the ugly truth, no matter how much I try to protect her from it.

"Get behind me here then," he said, pulling her out of the way of the two cops who were swinging a battering ram between them, ready to break down the door. Harding strained to hear what was going on beyond the door but the storm was making that almost impossible. "Do it," he yelled at the uniforms.

Seconds later they were through the door and Cadie pushed her way forward past the debris and shouting policemen. She stopped short, transfixed by the nightmarish vision in the middle of the room.

Jo stood over the kneeling, sobbing man like some kind of dark, glorious G.o.ddess. Lightning turned her silver and Cadie could see the wild, wide grin on the tall woman's face. She could also see Jo's blood-soaked right arm. The man was scrabbling at his throat with his hands and suddenly Cadie saw the cruel wire beginning to cut into his neck. Blood was seeping down, soaking his shirt collar and covering his fingers as he desperately tried to ease the pressure.

Jo was vaguely aware of an explosion of sound over to her right but it barely penetrated the red haze of rage that filled her. She felt Marco's hands fluttering around his throat, and then reaching back to try and break her grip. She saw the blood on his fingers and exulted. Gradually she became aware of men shouting around her but she didn't care. She wanted the man at her feet dead and gone from her life forever.

Cadie couldn't bear to watch any longer. The police had circled Jo and had their weapons trained on her from all sides. They shouted and shouted at her but nothing was having an effect on the tall woman. Cadie ran forward, trying to break through the circle, but Harding grabbed her elbow and yanked her backwards. "Stay out of it, Miss Jones," he barked.

She rounded on him hotly. "She's not the G.o.dd.a.m.n criminal here, Harding," she shouted back, wrestling out of his grasp. She pushed through the line and came to a halt by Jo's right shoulder. But the dark woman ignored her.

Jo felt someone standing next to her, a woman's voice calling her name, but she didn't care. She jerked Marco again, yanking back on the garrote, and he squealed. Music to my ears, she thought.

Cadie winced as she saw the wire biting deeper into the man's neck. But she knew she had the best chance of getting through to Jo. If she will just let me touch her.

The American reached out slowly and gently rested her hand on Jo's shoulder, careful to avoid the still-bleeding wound on her upper arm. The response from Jo was immediate.

Dark hair whipped around her head as she turned sharply towards Cadie. A deep, threatening growl came from her throat and the stare from her icy blue eyes lanced through the blonde like a hot knife through b.u.t.ter.

Jesus, Cadie thought. This has to stop. "Jo." Cadie weathered the intense gaze and held it with her own. "Jo. Stop please." She could see the man's responses becoming weaker as the piano wire sliced deeper. She kept her hand on Jo's shoulder, hoping the warmth of her touch would somehow penetrate. "Please stop now."

The tall woman's only response was to turn back to the man whose life she was toying with.

Cadie felt a wave of frustration and then decided to take things into her own hands. Literally. She leaned forward and pulled Jo's chin around then cupped the woman's face between her hands. She gazed intently into her eyes. "Jossandra," she said softly. The blue orbs blinked at her blankly. "Jossandra, sweetheart...please let him go now."

Jo felt the soft gentle voice sliding into her consciousness, melting her from the inside. Warm hands stroked her cheeks and the most beautiful sea-green eyes were just inches from her own.

Something clicked inside her.

She took a sharp breath in, gasping like she had just come up for air after a long, dark dive. At the same time she released her grip on the garrote, and Marco fell forward. Police rushed in from all sides, dragging the gangster away. But Cadie and Jo stayed still, absorbed in each other. "C-Cadie?" Jo whispered. Her blood-covered hands reached up to hold the blonde's wrists.

"Yes, sweetheart," Cadie replied gently, gazing up at a face that was suddenly years younger and filled with vulnerability. "It's okay. It's all over."

Jo's legs gave out from under her and she dropped to her knees. She wrapped her arms around Cadie's waist and buried her face into the blonde's shirt, desperate sobs wracking her body, welling up from deep Inside.

Cadie felt a huge rush of protectiveness and cradled Jo's head against her, stroking the long, black hair and crooning soft words of comfort.

Most of the police were back outside the front door dealing with di Santo, but Harding had remained behind, watching the two women in the centre of the room. The killer in Jo Madison he understood. The sobbing, near-hysterical woman, he didn't get. But that cute little American sheila sure seems to. I'll give them a few more minutes, but then I've got to ask Madison some questions.

He began to turn away, but a movement out on the verandah caught his eye and he swung back just in time to see a staggering figure lunging through the door. In his hand was a...

f.u.c.k.

"Madison!" Harding screamed, beginning to draw his police revolver from the holster under his left arm.

Jo heard the urgency in Harding's voice and turned her head in time to see Mr. Uzi stumble through the verandah door, his weapon spitting bullets indiscriminately. Without thinking she drove herself upwards, lifting Cadie off her feet for an instant before throwing them both down on the floor.

As she covered the blonde's body with her own she reached back and drew her Colt. Within half a second she was pumping bullet after bullet into the oncoming man.

Cadie had the breath knocked out of her when Jo threw her down, but she was too startled to protest and with the big gun just inches above her head as it fired, she thought it prudent to keep as still as possible. She tucked her head in under Jo's chin and held on for dear life.

Jo wasn't the only one firing. Harding emptied his .45 before the man finally dropped to the floor. The detective scrambled to reload as he ran to the body, nudging it with his foot as the other cops ran in, alerted by the gunfire.

"Okay, okay... it's okay," Harding said breathlessly, re-holstering his gun. "He's about as dead as he's gonna get. Let's get this lot squared away and get out of here."

Cadie peeked out from under Jo's arm. Oh yeah. He's definitely dead. She swallowed hard and turned away from the man, his face a b.l.o.o.d.y mess.

Instead she looked up at Jo's tear-stained, blood-smeared face. The arm holding the gun was still stretched out toward the intruder, but there was a distinct tremble to it now, and Cadie noticed that fresh blood was dripping from the wound near Jo's shoulder. The dark-haired woman's face was a mask of shock and her eyes, normally so blue, were pale and glazed over.

"Jo," Cadie said gently. "Honey, it's over now. You can put the gun down."

Jo's vision cleared gradually and she looked along her arm at the gun, its barrel still smoking slightly. It was only a small leap for her eyes from the gun to the corpse on the floor. "Noooo," she moaned. "No... no... I didn't want to have to do that. Noooo..."

The gun clattered to the floor and Jo sat up quickly, leaning back against the couch and burying her face in her hands.

Cadie breathed in deeply, a part of her suddenly missing the strangely safe and protected feeling she had when Jo's weight was pressing down on her. Instead of dwelling on that she stood up and reached a hand down to stroke the dark head. "C'mon, Jo-Jo. Come and sit up on the couch here with me. It's more comfortable."

She sat down and began to pull Jo down next to her, but the tall woman resisted, her eyes widening as if she'd just thought of something critical.

"Jo, what is it?" G.o.d, please not more thugs with guns.

Jo yanked her hand away and she darted towards the bedroom Josh had been using. "Mephy?" she called out frantically. "Mephisto... where are you?" She ran back out again and then headed for her own bedroom. But before she could get there, a black streak hurtled out and leapt into the tall woman's arms, where he was promptly wrapped up in a hug. Jo buried her face in the big cat's soft fur as she carried him to the couch, where Cadie had watched bemused.

She is such a contrast, thought the blonde. So dark and dangerous one minute, and so soft and vulnerable the next. She couldn't help smiling as Jo sat down, tears now streaming silently down her cheeks, as the cat purred happily in her arms.

Jo had no words. The last few hours, the energy she had expended holding her focus, the things she'd done hit her like a baseball bat between the eyes.

Cadie watched as a range of emotions flew across Jo's expressive face, ending with a look of total exhaustion. "Jo?"

"Yes?" the woman replied softly.

"Let the cops do their thing. Just rest here awhile, okay?" Cadie wrapped an arm around the taller woman's shoulders and pulled her closer.

Jo didn't need any urging. Without another word, she turned towards Cadie and lay down, resting her head in the blonde's lap. Mephisto curled up in her arms, and Cadie stroked the black cat's fur and watched his mistress close her eyes.

She has the longest eyelashes I've ever seen, Cadie thought, as cat and woman fell asleep almost instantly. Amazing, considering the place is swarming with cops and the storm... She looked up and saw that the storm finally had broken. Sunlight streamed in through the skylight above them and a cooling breeze blew in the open verandah doors.

I hope that's a sign. She looked back down at the sleeping skipper and gently stroked an errant lock of hair from her forehead. I think she's had enough stormy weather.

Chapter Eight.

Cadie took in the activity around her as if it were some bizarre movie she was watching in 3D. Police swarmed over the house, taking fingerprints and photographs. A contingent had gone with the man Jo had been fighting when they had arrived. He was being taken by air ambulance to the nearest big town. Another group of police had dealt with the body of the second man, sliding it into a body bag and removing it. And now, acting on Ken Harding's special instructions, they were cleaning up, washing blood away after taking samples, sweeping up broken gla.s.s. They had even called a handyman to put in a new makeshift front door in place of the one the police had smashed through with the battering ram. The officers had found another man tied up not far from the house and he too had been carted off to hospital.

Harding had said nothing to Cadie. He just moved around the house supervising the Airlie Beach police and giving out instructions. Eventually things seemed to be as resolved as they were going to be and the big detective wandered over, taking a seat opposite the couch. "We're about done here, Miss Jones," he said quietly. "The bad news is I do need to talk to her before I go." He nodded at the still slumbering Jo.

Cadie looked down at the dark-haired woman. Jo was deeply asleep, her face half-buried in Cadie's shirt, her arms loosely wrapped around the black cat, who gazed up at the blonde with sleepy, golden eyes. She swallowed as another wave of protectiveness washed over her, and she looked back up at the detective.

"I'm sorry," he said, his hands restlessly searching for his cigarettes in his inside jacket pocket. "But it's got to be done. Better we sort this out now with one conversation than have to keep revisiting it." He tapped a cigarette out of the damp, crumpled packet. "Tell you what. I'll go out and smoke this while you wake her up, yeah?"

"Okay," Cadie said quietly. She waited until Harding was out on the verandah before she looked down at Jo again, taking in the dark woman's angular features.

She looks so young. Cadie stroked Jo's hair. It's a shame to wake her. Gently she shook Jo's shoulder, careful to avoid the wound on her upper arm, which thankfully seemed to have stopped bleeding. Need to get her cleaned up. The blonde continued to coax Jo awake with as little drama as possible.

The tall woman stirred slowly, disturbing the cat that stood, stretched, and leaped off the couch in search of food.

"Jo-Jo," Cadie said softly, shaking her shoulder again. "Come on, hon. Wake up."

Jo's response was to make soft, objecting noises as she burrowed even further into Cadie's shirtfront. Cadie's heart melted. Even covered in mud and blood. Even after the day she's had. She still gets to me.