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"I'm going to take you and your woman with me," Ry­ker said, running the dagger's bloody blade up Cyn's throat, staining her satiny skin with the scarlet liquid. "I've got a chopper coming for us in a few minutes. They know you're here. They won't let me down."

"Who's helping you?" Nate asked, hoping to keep Ry­ker talking, postponing any desperate action on his part.

"I'm going to let you watch while I enjoy myself with her. When I think you've suffered enough, I'm going to kill you slowly, Conquistador, and let her watch you die." Ryker sucked in a deep breath, gasping for air, grunting with pain. "Oh, she won't be so beautiful when I've finished with her, but some of Marquez's boys will probably enjoy her for a while."

Nate stood perfectly still, never taking his eyes off Ry­ker. "You can't get away. Do you think a chopper can land on the beach without drawing attention?"

Ryker grinned. "You're too smart to have allowed any of Higdon's men to accompany you. You knew her life de­pended on your coming alone."

"Let her go, Ryker. This fight is between you and me."

"You didn't let Lian go. You and your bastard SEALs killed her."

"She got caught in the crossfire," Nate said, remember­ing that horrible day so long ago. "The bullet that struck her could just as easily have been fired by her own people."

"You killed my woman." Ryker rubbed the tip of the dagger up and down, from Cyn's throat to her heart and back again. "I'm going to kill yours...but not quickly. Slowly, after many, many days. The last thing you'll see is your own dagger slicing away at her soft flesh."

Nate glanced at Cyn to gauge her reaction. He had never wanted anything more than to reassure her, comfort her, promise her that Ian Ryker would never live to carry through any of his diabolical threats. "I have no intention of dying. Not to give you any kind of satisfaction and cer­tainly not to save her life." Nate nodded toward Cyn, and prayed that she understood what he was trying to do and why.

Ryker looked at Nate skeptically. "It won't work, my old enemy. You can't convince me that she means nothing to you."

"Oh, she means something to me." Nate took a quick look at her, his eyes pleading with her to forgive him. "She's the best lay I ever had, but that's all. When has a woman ever meant more to me than a night's pleasure?"

Ryker let the dagger slip down the front of Cyn's body, the blade skimming over her bare stomach. "I don't be­lieve you, but even if it's true, your sense of honor will de­mand that you try to save her." He scooted closer to Cyn's chair, the nub on the end of his handless arm stroking his bleeding wound. Taking the dagger away from her soft, ex­posed flesh, he sliced through the ropes that bound her feet to the chair. "My friends will be coming soon." He pulled her hands up and over the back of the chair, then jerked her up, draping his arm around her and pressing the dagger against her side.

"I'm taking her outside," Ryker said. "The chopper should be landing on the beach soon. You can stay here, safe for the time being, or you can come with us, with me and your beautiful woman."

Ryker hunched over in pain. His movements slow and unsteady, he ushered Cyn outside and toward the road. Nate followed. Could he take a chance on his swiftness and ac­curacy? he wondered. If his life alone depended upon the outcome, he'd take the risk, but Cyn's life hung in the bal­ance. Ryker's instincts could warn him if Nate tried to use the M16. But what about the boot knife? Nate asked him­self. Could he remove it from his hiding place and strike Ryker in the back before the other man killed Cyn?

Once on the beach, Ryker fell to his knees, taking Cyn with him. Nate stopped a few yards away near the old cy­press tree.

"You'll never make it," Nate shouted. "You're going to pass out."

"It won't matter." Ryker flung his handless arm around his wound. "My friends will take care of me, and they'll keep both of you safe and secure until I'm ready to dispose of you."

All three people on the beach heard the sound of the au­tomobile as it pulled to a stop on the road in front of Nate's house. Three startled gazes watched while an enormous mountain of a man emerged from the driver's side.

Pulling Cyn tightly against him and placing the dagger's tip over her heart, Ryker shouted at Nate. "I told you to come alone."

"I did come alone. I swear."

"Then who's our company?" Ryker asked, nodding to­ward the two men who stood beside the limo.

What the hell was going on? Nate wondered. Having Carranza show up wasn't too surprising, but Ryker pre­tending he had no idea who the man was didn't make any sense.

"I don't know who the bloody hell you are, but you can stop right there or I'll kill her," Ryker said.

"I suggest that if you want to live you should release Se­ñora Porter. There are three of us, you see, and if you harm her, one of us is bound to kill you," Ramon Carranza said, never slowing his stride as he neared the beach.

Ryker laughed, the sound shrilly hysterical as it carried on the night air. "There may be three of you, but I've got friends coming. A small army of friends who'll be carrying weapons. I suggest that you get back in that big limo of yours and leave, old man."

Carranza continued moving closer and closer to Ryker. Nate wanted to reach out and grab him, but he was too far away. Carranza avoided getting anywhere near Nate.

"I'm warning you to stop." Ryker's hand trembled. Cyn could feel the knife pressing into her flesh.

"What are you doing here?" Nate, bewildered by Ryker and Carranza's conversation, knew he couldn't allow his own confusion to dull his senses or make him any less alert. This whole scene could be some elaborate hoax on Carran­za's part. It was obvious the old man liked to play games. Just because Ryker didn't recognize him didn't mean they weren't on the same side in this battle.

Carranza spoke to Nate, but he never removed his gaze from Ian Ryker. "I had some important news for Señor Ryker. News that could not wait."

"What kind of crap is this?" Ryker asked. "Who are you? What sort of news have you got for me?"

"I am Ramon Rafael Carranza."

Ryker blanched, his face contorting into a frown. "What... what's the news you have for me?"

The sound in Nate's ears began as a loud buzzing, then quickly escalated into a thunderous roar. The old man had said his name was Ramon Rafael Carranza.

"My good friend, Carlos Marquez, regrets that he must sever his relationship with you," Carranza said. "He sends his apologies that he cannot assist you in this little kidnap­ping and murder scheme."

"You're lying. Marquez owes me. He's sending a chop­per for me." Ryker's gaze searched the predawn sky as he cocked his head, listening to the silence.

Carranza took several steps forward. He was within a few feet of Ryker and Cyn. "Such a pity. In our business, a man cannot afford to put his trust in the wrong people. Marquez may, as you say, owe you, but his debt to me was far larger and much older."

Nate moved away from the trees. Good God, Carranza was going to try to jump Ryker. Was he a fool? Nate knew he had to intercede. If he didn't, Cyn would die. His night­mare would come true.

"Don't move, either of you." Ryker cursed Marquez, then dropped the dagger on the sand as he grabbed the Uzi and opened fire.

With trained instincts, Nate dropped to his belly as the shots rang out over his head. Suddenly, the Uzi's menacing roar quietened. Nate raised his head slightly and glanced around. Ramon Carranza lay on the sandy ground, blood pouring from his wounds. Ryker's lifeless body lay only a few feet away.