He was stronger, heavier, and hehad the advantage.
All of this passed through herbrain in the briefest of moments, and she knew that she had to act. The windowof opportunity would close.
She launched herself forwardbodily through the air, springing at his midsection with her arms stretched outand her head turned to the side. She would use all of her weight to plow intohim, pushing him backward as they crashed together, making him fall so that shecould get the advantage—
But he had thirty pounds on her,and even though it was only thirty pounds, evidently some of his weight wasmuscle. He staggered backward a few steps but did not fall, and the progress ofhis arm toward her head was not arrested—slowed, maybe—and it still came downacross her back, so hard and heavy that she found herself gasping out, droppingdown, loosening her hold on him and letting go.
And he took another step beforeshe could recover, enough to get the distance he needed, and even though Zoecould see the numbers and angles and knew that he was coming for her, shecouldn’t do a thing to stop it as the club crashed down across the back of herhead. She dropped to the floor, feeling the pain across the base of her skulland her neck.
He was still off-target. She wasstunned, reeling from the pain, but not unconscious, not yet. She was still inthis fight. Zoe desperately rolled to the side, feeling the impact through thefloorboards under her as the club smashed down beside her, narrowly missingher. But now she was against the wall. She looked up. There was nowhere else togo. Ford’s face was twisted into an angry snarl as he raised the club again,and Zoe brought her arms up in front of her face, knowing it wouldn’t help atall, that he would break them and then keep hitting her until she was gone—
And there was some kind of angryshout, a word she couldn’t even make out, a voice that hadn’t been there. Avoice she recognized. Still reeling and gasping from the pain in the back ofher head, Zoe tried to move, looking up to see Flynn. The rookie was grapplingwith Ford, pulling the man’s arms behind his back, but Ford was struggling,fighting against him, and both of them were making animalistic noises, gruntingand groaning with effort. They were well-matched. Too well-matched.
Zoe could see Flynn’s gun on hisbelt, uselessly out of the way. For some reason he hadn’t drawn the gun when heentered the house, and now he was wrestling with Ford, unable to spare a handto go for it. Zoe watched them dully, trying to think. Everything was slow. Whyhadn’t he drawn his gun? Now Ford was getting loose, getting his arm free,turning, punching at Flynn’s body with his free hand, the club still caught butgetting freer by the moment as Flynn tried to move to defend himself—
Zoe snapped back to clarity. Flynnwas in trouble. He needed help. There was only one thing she could do, one wayto save him while Ford’s attention was off her. She wasn’t going to loseanother partner.
She scrambled across the floortoward her gun, lying at the other side of the hall, against the far wall.Grabbing hold of it, she turned, lying back on the floor with her shouldersagainst the wall so the recoil wouldn’t throw off her aim while she was weaker.She looked up, saw the calculated line running from the barrel of the gun allthe way to Ford. She squinted a little, saw his movements, saw where he wouldbe a fraction of a second from now.
She squeezed the trigger.
The bang of the bullet leaving thechamber was loud enough that a sudden silence followed it, right before thesound of Ford dropping to his knees, letting go of Flynn entirely. He turnedaround to look at her, wide eyes expressing his shock. He’d thought she wasdone. He’d underestimated her.
Zoe panted for breath, keeping thegun aimed at him and steady. Flynn, too, seemed to be in shock, watching ratherthan reacting, waiting to see what would happen. If she needed to shoot again,she would.
Ford looked down at his shoulder,the blood spilling down over his arm as he raised it slightly, testing it. Hedropped it immediately, the club hitting the floor. He couldn’t fight with itany longer. Still staring at the wound, he began to laugh, a ragged sound thatat first Zoe could not even interpret.
“Look,” Ford said, stillbreathlessly laughing. “It’s a perfect circle.” He raised his other hand andprodded at the hole the bullet had left with one finger. Zoe could only stare,his reaction so incongruous that it froze her.
Flynn snapped into action,grabbing handcuffs from his belt and stepping forward. Ford did not resist asthe rookie pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him. He didn’t even cryout in pain. He just kept on laughing, laughing, laughing, like he’d told thefunniest joke he’d ever heard.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Zoe sat on the tailgate of theambulance, watching the scene. They had insisted on wrapping her in a silverfoil blanket, and it rustled every time she moved, so she simply gave up andsat still.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”Flynn asked, settling down on the metal beside her.
Zoe nodded mutely. The EMTs hadlooked her over, doing an on-the-scene assessment. Tested her for concussion,which she did have, but only mildly. They had given her strict instructionsabout not doing anything strenuous and staying awake, preferably with someoneto watch over her. Zoe had agreed blithely, not bothering to tell them thatthere was no one waiting at home, and that she would be putting her bodythrough air travel first thing in the morning.
She knew she would be sportingsome pretty impressive bruises for the next few weeks, but there weren’t a lotof people lining up to see those either. At least the club hadn’t broken herskin or any bones. Fighting back and seeing the angles had given her justenough protection to avoid that.
“Definitely?” Flynn asked.
Zoe turned to look at him, takingher gaze away from Ford’s would-be victim, who
