“You look like shit.” Jim stated.

“Thanks. I feel that way too.” He exhaled roughly and leaned into Brynn’s support. “Dizzy.”

Jim spun around and stomped out of the plane. Brynn realized he’d been holding his handgun where she couldn’t see it as they talked. She shot a questioning gaze to Alex. He had his gun ready too.

“Can he walk out of here?” Alex nodded at Ryan, ignoring the question in her eyes.

“I can hear you, man. Ask me.” Ryan was hoarse; his eyes closed halfway as he leaned on Brynn. She touched his forehead. Hot and dry. She gave Alex a small shake of her head.

“I saw that, Brynn. Let me decide what I can and can’t do,” the sick man muttered. He sat up again and leaned one arm on his thigh. His eyes met hers and she tried not to wince at the effort he put forth.

Ryan was very sick.

“You’re burning up with a fever. How’s your stomach?”

“Stomach’s good. Throat’s killer, and my skin hurts everywhere.”

Flu? Could he possibly have just a flu bug? His symptoms could be viral. He’d simply started with a nasty stomach virus that ripped him up and probably exasperated a new ulcer. She hoped.

Ryan sat up farther and tried to stand. He sprawled back in the seat, and Brynn helped him sit straight. “I’m not walking today. Ask me tomorrow.”

“Where’s your weapon?”

Ryan reached down between the seat and fuselage and lifted out his Glock.

Alex looked at Brynn. “You know how to use that?” She nodded. “Give it to her. Keep it on you at all times and keep an eye outside. We’ll identify ourselves before we come in. Shoot first. Ask questions later. We’re gonna find Thomas.” He held her eye contact until she nodded again. He ducked and vanished out the door.

Brynn stared after him, her heart in her throat and an icy cold gun in her numb hand. Shoot first? Could she do that?

A grin split his face as Darrin watched the two men race up the slope. Yep. They’d found his message.

How long had it taken Alex to understand it?

One second? Two?

This felt good. He’d scored a point against the other team and had set the bar. Now to see what their response would be. Would they run out of the woods with their tails between their legs? Or hunt him down?

He shivered, his smile steady.

Alex would never stand idle after the threat he’d made about the woman. It wasn’t really a threat. Darrin had simply made an observation, but Alex would see it as a threat. Darrin had always been particular about the nurses he chose. He’d looked for different things when he decided to put patients out of their misery, but for the nurses they had to be beautiful. They had to have that special internal glow that radiated. He’d needed to feel the power that came from destroying that beauty. Even as she’d fought against the hands around her neck that special element shone in her eyes.

It’d made him want to smash it, annihilate it, and then drink it in.

The rush…

He exhaled heavily.

Would they come after him? He fingered the gun in his pocket. It was awkward, bulky, and didn’t feel comfortable in his hands. He could use it if he had to, but he’d shot a handgun only twice in his life. It was doubtful his aim would be any good. Maybe he shouldn’t have challenged them. He swore under his breath. There were four men. And they were probably all armed.

Suddenly his message on the ceiling of the cockpit didn’t seem too smart.

Why had he confronted Alex that way? He should have just let him leave and then followed.

Darrin screwed his eyes shut. He hadn’t been able to stop himself. It was like one of their sessions where he’d thrown Kinton scraps of information and watched him grovel for more. He’d loved the power he held over Alex Kinton during those times. Like the session where he’d started talking about Olivia Short. The police hadn’t located her body by the time he’d been arrested. Darrin had been grilled by some sharp detectives but hadn’t revealed her whereabouts. It’d been one of the factors that he’d used to negotiate his visits with Alex. He’d offered to possibly reveal the resting places of the three women still missing, but only to Alex Kinton. The three women the police knew about, anyway.

Darrin leaned against a tree and sighed.

Alex had still been with the marshals’ office at that point of their relationship. At their session, Alex had looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. And most surprising, he’d pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket that he proceded to chain-smoke through the session.

At first Alex had just sat in the cold little room, his eyes on the table as he fingered his cigarette. It’d been one of those typical interview rooms. A bland box. No windows. Scavenged furniture. A camera in the upper corner. Darrin’s demands had been for the camera to be turned off during their sessions. Alex had agreed. The only witness had been a cop who stood directly outside the door and occasionally peeked through the skinny rectangle window. And the cop couldn’t hear a thing.

Alex’s technique with the cigarettes had been awkward, and Darrin knew the habit was recently formed. His chest had swelled with pleasure. He’d caused that habit.

“What’d you do this week?”

Alex hadn’t met his eyes as he flicked ash into an ashtray. “Nothing.” He’d sat casually in his hard chair. He’d dressed neatly in jeans and a jacket, but there was a feral look about his eyes that spoke of restless nights.