In his mind's eye, Harrison saw her, bleeding from the bullet wound in her chest, staggering and pitching over the railing, her hair streaming behind her, blood spraying as she fell to her death.

He took off at a dead sprint.

All hell broke loose!

With a roar, Justice fell backward, blood blooming on the shirt visible beneath his open coat.

Two boys, hidden by the huge lamp, screamed and leapt to their feet, exposing themselves. Oh, Jesus! Kids? There were kids here?

Laura pointed the gun at her attacker again but couldn't shoot, not with the boys in the tiny room. The bullet could ricochet. . . .

Unless she got close enough to him to jab the gun under his ribs.

She didn't have time to think. He caught himself on the door and, glowering at her, raised his damned knife and lunged again. "Run!!!" she screamed to the boys as she backed up, her fingers finding the latch to the window exit. If she could get him outside, she'd fire every damned bullet she had into his filthy flesh.

Justice, stunned, eyed the kids.

She aimed. "Leave them alone, you son of a bitch!"

He glared at her from the doorway, and the blind rage she'd seen before entered his eyes. "Sssisterrr! Filthy whore!" He took a step forward, and she backed up, holding her .38 as steady as she could.

"Run!!!" she screamed again as Justice raised his knife and reeled forward.

The boys were huddled against the far wall, behind the lamp.

Her fingers scraped against the rusted latch. Please open . . . please . . .

She pulled on the latch.

Nothing!

She was trapped! The only way out was behind Justice, down the stairs the way she'd come up. Unless there was a ladder on the exterior of the lighthouse . . . Come on, come on! Her fingers coiled over the window's latch, and she gave it another hard tug. Something creaked, started to give way, but at that moment, Justice raised his knife and swung, throwing himself forward.

The blade sliced downward.

She dived to one side and Justice was thrown off balance. He fell against the lamp.

With a shriek the boys ran behind him, throwing themselves through the open doorway and clattering down the stairs. Their voices echoed upward, their footsteps ringing loudly on the weak metal steps.

Justice lunged again and she pushed her gun into his gut, but he grabbed her hand and thrust it aside as she pulled the trigger. The bullet went wild, pinging back and forth through the small space, shattering the lamp in a deafening blast.

Glass sprayed. Justice threw his weight onto her, pressing her to the wall, twisting her arm back at her wrist.

Pain rocketed up her arm.

She sucked in her breath but couldn't let go. Wouldn't! Scrabbling backward, she pushed against the outer door.

With a shrieking groan, the latch gave way and the window exit flew open. Rain and wind burst into the dome as the window opened. They toppled together onto the rickety metal platform surrounding the dome. It shimmied and creaked under their weight, barely attached to the lighthouse. Her back was to the rail, and Justice's body, heavy and smelling of sour sweat, pinned her tight.

She fired another shot and it went wild, into the air.

Snap!

Pain screamed through her arm.

The gun went sliding away, across the mesh platform.

"No!"

She watched in horror as the Smith & Wesson slid over the edge, spinning down into the darkness.

Gasping for breath, Harrison ran up the stairs. "Laura!" he yelled, his voice echoing within the hollow tower of the lighthouse, the wind screaming outside. "Laura! Hold on!" If that sicko hurt her . . . oh, hell. Up he ran, holding onto the rail, taking the steps two at a time.

He heard the footsteps hurrying toward him, and he flattened against the wall, his gun drawn. "Laura!" he cried.

"She's up there!" a boy's voice cried, and then he saw them, two kids in their teens. "He's got her!" the younger one said, staring into the muzzle of Harrison's gun. "Justice Turnbull. He's got her!"

"Get out of here!" Harrison yelled.

They plowed past him, running, tumbling, racing to the bottom.

Harrison hurtled upward, adrenaline fueling him, rage burning in his soul. "Turnbull!" he yelled. "Come on, you son of a bitch! Come the hell after me!"

And then he heard Laura scream, a piercing shriek of pure terror.

"Die, Ssissterr!" Justice hissed, the stench of his breath fanning over her face. He raised his blade high, and she screamed, flinging herself upward, trying to throw off his heavy weight.

The blade glinted wickedly above her.

The platform groaned, metal twisting over the shriek of the wind.

He swung downward, intent on slicing her throat, but she kicked him hard. Brought her knee fast to his groin and the blade struck his own leg.

Bellowing, he convulsed, and she rolled away, the railing of the platform against her back.

She sprang for the open window to the inner dome, but the platform shifted, ancient bolts giving way. Her wet hands slipped. Rain pelted her. The metal footing listed and she began to slide, toward the place where the platform had torn from the wall and dangled precariously over the rocks below.

Justice leapt for her, clawing on top of her. She kicked again, swinging hard! Her booted foot jammed into his crotch.

With a shriek, he doubled over. His knife fell from his hands, skittering across the metal flooring, sliding toward the edge as it listed, then falling, as if in slow motion, to be swallowed in the darkness below.

Justice's fingers, slick with his own blood and the rain, scrabbled for purchase on the railing. His weight dragged him downward. Laura held on to the platform with her good arm, trying to inch toward the open window, praying the platform would hold. Its groaning metal hurt her ears. She clawed her way upward, grabbing, struggling. She wrapped her good arm around a rusted metal post, wedging it against her shoulder, flattening her body over the flooring.

With a horrible scream of twisting metal, the entire platform tore away from the wall of the lighthouse. Part of the flooring gave way and fell to the sea. Laura closed her eyes, held tight, and prayed. Then she felt the clamp of steely fingers around her ankle.

Justice had grabbed her, his weight too much, dragging her downward.

No! God, help me. She struggled upward. Her leg felt as if it would pop out of its hip socket. The world started to spin, darkness threatening to shroud her, the wind gusting and keening.

Her boot began to slip from her foot.

God, the pain.

She struggled to hang on, to stay conscious, to not give in to the desperate need to let go.

Setting her jaw against the agony clawing through her, she kicked back with her free foot and connected with the monster's arms. Bam!

He howled again.

She kicked again, but he twisted. She missed, and it was all she could do not to black out.

"Laura!" For a moment she thought she heard Harrison's voice. Oh, God. Her heart wrenched at the thought of him. Again, the blackness came, luring her to let go . . . to fall to the sea like her namesake.

"Laura, hang on!"

The world seemed to swim before her eyes. Clouds roiling above, sea swirling below. The blackness tugged at her consciousness, dragging her under.

Hang on, she told herself, for God's sake . . . oh, but the pain. Her body felt as if it were being ripped in two.

Fight, Laura. Do not let him win. For the love of God! Do not let Justice win!

"You miserable bastard." One more kick! Smack! She connected with his wrist.

He screamed, a piercing, soul-splintering cry.

Suddenly the hand clasping her ankle gave way.

"Sissterrr! Nooo!"

She glanced back. Justice tumbled into the night, arms and legs kicking wildly, down, down, down into the darkness. Through the mesh of the platform she watched him disappear to the rocky shoals below.

He cast out one final threat. You will never be rid of me . . . Lorelei . . . Sisst- "Laura!" She looked up and saw Harrison in the open window of the lighthouse. He stood before the dark hole, his gaze on hers, his face white with terror. "Hang on. Do you hear me? Hang on!" He leaned forward, one hand holding on to the broken latch, the other stretched far as he could reach.

His hand caught only air. "Grab my hand!" he ordered.

But she couldn't lift her bad arm. Her wrist throbbed and wouldn't respond as she flailed.

His fingers brushed hers.

"Harrison!" she cried, but it was too late.

With one final deep, echoing groan, the final bolt gave way and the platform ripped free, wrenching away from the lighthouse.

Laura, still grasping the rail, began to tumble and fall, spinning out of control. Sky and ground one dark, horrifying blur . . .

"Lorelei!" Harrison called, his voice drowned by the surf.

The platform swung downward, then released, Laura with it. The wind rushed. There was a sense of flying. She closed her eyes, expecting death.

She hit the water so hard, every bone in her body screamed. Arctic cold water poured over her as she sank into the salty depths. Waves crashed and tossed her, yanking her free of the platform. She scraped on rocks and looked up through the watery depths, seeing a light, bright and round, above her.

Harrison . . . love . . . I'm sorry . . . . so, so sorry . . . I should have told you. . . .

The blackness came again, seducing her, dragging her under, salt water seeping into her lungs.

She let go.

"No!" Harrison watched in horror as Laura fell away, her body disappearing into the sea. He didn't think twice but took a running start and threw himself out of the lighthouse. He could miss and hit the rocks, or hit the sea and die from the impact, but he didn't take the time to second-guess himself.

Through the night he sailed, arms out, down to the ocean that he couldn't see. At the last moment he tucked himself into a straight arrow and hit the surface tension of the water feetfirst, a wave immediately catching him and tossing him closer to shore.

He surfaced, treading water, spitting salt water, spying a light . . . on the ocean, a beam illuminating the whirling, foaming surf. In the middle of the beam, he saw her. Limp. Lifeless. Laura.

He was too late.

No!

He swam for her, intent on reaching her, fighting the strength of the surf, forcing himself closer, into that wide swath of light. As he reached her still form, he realized that the light was from a hovering helicopter that battled the buffeting storm as a basket was being lowered.

"Laura," he gasped, his voice a whisper, the sea a roar in his ears. He'd lost her. God in heaven he'd lost her. He thought of how he'd reacted when she'd told him she'd been pregnant, how callous he'd been. What a self-serving idiot.

His soul seemed ripped from his body as he held her, watching her hair fan around her white face as the waves undulated. Her eyes fixed and staring, her skin as cold as the sea, the rain like the tears of the gods. "Lorelei . . . don't die. Please . . . please . . . don't die!" The words were torn from him and lost in the thunder of the seas. "Lorelei, I love you! Oh, God . . . you can't die. You can't. If you only knew . . ."

She awoke in a private room at Ocean Park Hospital.

She remembered hitting the water and a bright light, and Harrison hanging out the yawning window of the lighthouse. In the ensuing moments of lucidity, she recalled images that were more like postcards than a movie. A helicopter ride over the ocean, landing at the hospital. Harrison with her . . . or was that a dream?

She blinked. "Am I in the north wing?" she asked, getting her bearings.

The window ledge was covered in flowers, but she was pretty sure the view outside the window was on the north side of the building.

"Good call. North one-twenty-six." Harrison's voice was a surprise. She turned her head and found him seated in one of the chairs that stretched into a bed. It was mussed, as if he'd camped out here. "Lucidity at last," he said with a smile.

She tried to lift her arm and found it strapped down, an IV running into it and, she guessed, from the way she was feeling, some pain meds flowing through her bloodstream. She attempted to sit up.

"Slow down," he said and was at her side, staring down at her, looking guilty as hell. "Here . . . I think I can work this." He found the button to raise her head.

"If you can't manage, I'm pretty sure I can."

"Hey! Look who joined the living!" Carlita Solano, dressed in blue scrubs, came bustling up to the bed. "How're ya feeling?"

"Like a train ran over me, then backed up and went at it again."

She grinned. "That's about right. But you're tough and it looks like you might just live. Let me take your vitals and then you and he"-she cocked her head in Harrison's direction-"can catch up."

Carlita explained her injuries, that Laura had suffered a broken wrist, sprained elbow, concussion, and pulled hip flexor. "All in all, it could have been worse," Carlita said, then finished with her temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, entering the data into a computer by the bed. Once she finished, she said she'd call the doctor for a more extensive examination, then slipped out of the room.

"Okay, so tell me," Laura said as the door closed behind the nurse. "Why are either of us alive?"