She frowned, obviously wondering how this would translate into a password. "What year?" she demanded.

"Not the date," Courtney said. "The sign."

"The sign?"

"The zodiac sign. I'm a Leo."

"That's your password? Leo? It's only three letters!"

God, where was Will? Where was help?

"Is that it?"

Courtney glanced at the man in the back, still pointing the gun. She glanced at the black cannon. The hands holding it weren't steady, but at this distance, it wouldn't matter. Courtney was in the passenger seat, she realized, just like David had been.

And Will was going to find her. He was going to see her, dead, just like she'd seen David, only she hadn't loved David, but she loved Will, and he loved her, and he'd never get over it.

"Out of the car." The woman jerked the gun toward the door.

They were going to march her into the field and shoot her. But at least she'd have a chance. Maybe she could make a run for it.

"Out!"

She unlocked the door and scrambled out.

Will crouched low, behind the one scrap of cover within fifty yards of this place-a freaking cactus. A small one at that. But the targets weren't watching him-they were too absorbed with Courtney.

She stumbled out. She cast a terrified look around, searching for him, he knew, and his gut twisted. The woman barked an order, and the man raised his weapon.

Will murmured a prayer and took aim.

Pop!

Courtney dropped to the ground and covered her head with her hands.

"Shit!"

The man with the gun was on the ground, too, clutching his knee and writhing on his back.

Glass shattered, and Courtney registered another, closer shot, from the car.

Juicy Bitch was shooting. Courtney searched desperately for cover. A dark blur burst up from the ground.

Will!

"Get down!" Will raced past the man beside Courtney and kicked his gun out of reach, then dove into the car.

Courtney tripped to her feet just as the injured man made a lunge for the gun. Courtney snatched it up.

"Freeze!" Will boomed.

She whirled around. Will had the blonde facedown beside the car, his knee planted in her spine, while his gun pointed at the man wobbling to his feet. The guy's bulging eyes zeroed in on the weapon in Courtney's hand. Panicked, she rushed over and kicked him in the kneecap, and he crumpled to the ground again, howling.

And then Will was on him, flipping him onto his stomach and jerking his arms behind his back. He glanced at Courtney. "Take his belt off."

She gaped at him.

"His belt, Courtney!"

She put down the gun and stumbled over. She cast an anxious look at the woman handcuffed and whimpering beside the car. Her face was coated in dust.

Will held the man's hands tightly together and helped her flip him over so she could access the belt. She unbuckled it and gave a few hard yanks until she'd freed it from his pants. She handed it to Will, who quickly secured the guy's wrists with it. The man spewed obscenities at both of them while Will stripped off his T-shirt and went to work on the gory knee.

Courtney stood there, panting and staring down at him. He was so calm, so efficient. Meanwhile, her heart was galloping out of her chest, and her legs felt like rubber. She sank to her knees.

Will glanced at her. "You okay?"

She nodded dumbly.

With a bloodied hand, he pulled a phone from his pocket and tossed it at her. She watched it hit the ground in front of her, completely incapable of a reaction.

"Call 911," he said. "We need the sheriff here."

She looked at the phone. She looked at Will. He was so calm. So confident. He was a soldier on a battlefield, unfazed by bullets and blood and everything else. She was a terrified civilian about to heave up her omelet.

With a shaking hand, she picked up the phone.

"Drop it."

A man walked out from behind the shed. He had a gun aimed at Courtney as he approached them. A diamond sparked on his finger, and she remembered Fiona's suspect sketch.

She met Will's gaze. She spotted the pistol tucked into his jeans.

"Hands up, or I blow her away."

Courtney sucked in air as the metal barrel jabbed into her neck.

"Now."

This man wasn't fat. Or bulky, even. He had a completely average build, but his dull, emotionless voice chilled her. He was all business.

Will raised his bloodied hands above his head as the fat guy continued to moan and clutch his knee.

"Stand up," the gunman ordered. "Both of you."

They rose to their feet. Courtney's legs were shaking so badly, she thought she might fall, but the gun pressed against her neck had a steadying effect.

"Glock on the ground," he told Will, then positioned Courtney right in front of him, in case Will tried to get a shot off. The man's hand clenched her arm. His sour breath tickled her cheek, just above the spot where the gun pressed into her skin. Courtney's throat went dry.

Slowly, Will pulled his gun free from his jeans and lowered it to the ground.

"One wrong move, and I kill her."

Will stared over her shoulder with flat, cold eyes. "You do it, you're fucking dead."

She heard the low chuckle behind her.

Something beside the car caught her eye. The woman had managed to get to her feet now. She leaned against the car, coughing and scowling at Will, whose cuffs she was wearing.

"You, over there." The man gave Courtney a mighty shove in the direction of the empty field. "You, too."

They both walked into the open field. Will caught her eye and seemed to be trying to tell her something, but she didn't understand. Her teeth chattered. Her chest hurt. She could hardly walk on her wobbly legs.

"On your knees."

She thought he was talking to her, but she glanced back, and he was looking at Will.

"Now!"

Will lowered himself to his knees. The man left Courtney's side and made a wide arc to stand right behind him.

She choked out a sob.

"Hands behind your head."

Will complied, and a wail tore from her chest. He met her gaze. "Don't look," he said, and her heart caved in. But she couldn't look away. No, no, no! She pleaded with her eyes.

The man raised the gun.

And in a lightning flash, Will lunged sideways and swept his legs around, toppling the gunman.

A shot pierced the air. Courtney dropped to her stomach, screaming. The two men's bodies thrashed and tangled together in the dirt.

Where was the gun?

Then Will was on top, straddling the man and pounding his face, over and over, as if he'd never stop.

A flash of black caught Courtney's attention as the woman lunged for Will's abandoned Glock, but she was cuffed, and Courtney got there first.

"Stop!" Courtney shrieked and pointed the gun at her. The woman's eyes widened, and she stepped backward. Courtney whirled toward Will, who was still punching away at the man beneath him. "Stop!"

Will glanced up. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the second weapon from the ground, where it had fallen in the struggle. He pointed it at his attacker, whose nose was broken and bleeding.

"Roll over! Facedown!"

The man rolled over.

Will glanced at Courtney. "Get hers." He nodded at the black gun sitting on the ground near Courtney. She retrieved it and went to Will. He stood there, panting and alive, and she wanted to crumble at his feet and cry, but she just held out the guns. He tucked the big one into his jeans and left her with the Glock. He kept the other weapon trained on the figure lying facedown before him.

Will took a deep breath and gazed down at the man who'd nearly executed him just seconds ago.

"You're under arrest."

CHAPTER 24.

They spent the better part of the day giving statements and filling out forms at a rural sheriff's department west of Amarillo. By late afternoon, Courtney was so exhausted, her vision blurred. She sat in a molded plastic chair in the hallway outside the sheriff's office and waited for Will to finish up what looked like a painful phone conversation with Cernak back in Austin. By the sound of it, the lieutenant was none too happy about his detective's recent field trip.

Finally, Will ended the call, traded some brief parting words with the sheriff, and came to stand in front of her.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

She had no idea what she was ready for, beyond getting out of this dustbowl they'd been stranded in. She followed him to the Suburban and gratefully climbed inside.

"Where to?" she asked, when he was behind the wheel.

"Home."

Nine hours of driving. Was he out of his mind?

Her gaze skimmed over the three-day beard, the dirty jeans, and too-tight Red Raiders T-shirt that was an apparent loaner from some sheriff's deputy, and decided he was.

But for once, she didn't feel like arguing. She settled her cheek against the window and watched the flatlands glide by. She fell asleep.

When she awoke, they were in Abilene, and Will was gassing up for the final leg of their journey. She watched the dollars tick off at the pump and came to the groggy realization that in addition to her life, she owed him at least half a dozen tanks of gas.

Will disappeared into the convenience store and returned with two twenty-four-ounce Cokes and two hot dogs. He passed her a dog loaded with everything, including jalapenos, before starting up the truck again and getting on the freeway.

"Want me to drive?"

"No."

The next four hours were silent and uncomfortable as Courtney awoke to the new reality that lay ahead of her.

She had no job. She had no car. She had no utilities. Although she did, at least, have a duplex apartment, as her rent was paid up through October. But much of her stuff had been destroyed by Lindsey Kahn's thugs. Fiona, in her infinite selflessness, had cleaned up the mess as best she could a month ago. But the thought of returning to the house on Oak Trail made her spirits sink.

Will, too, was in a black mood. He didn't say a word for three hours, and Courtney waited for him to share whatever was on his mind, but he just stared ahead at the road. Finally, she couldn't stand it.

"Did you get fired?"