The Winner by David Baldacci

“True, that’s very good for us. And I’m sure your little rendezvous this morning didn’t hurt at all.”

“That’s really none of your business,” she retorted hotly. With their exchange of information at an end, she wasn’t going to let that remark pass.

“Ah, your first mistake this session. You just can’t make it through without committing some blunder, can you?” He pointed a slender finger at her. “Everything about you is my business. I made you. And in a real sense I feel responsible for your well-being. I don’t take that responsibility lightly.”

LuAnn blurted out, “Look, the ten years is up. You’ve made your money. I’ve made mine. I say we call it a day, forever. In thirty-six hours I’ll be on the other side of the world. You go your way, I’ll go mine, because I’m more than real tired of all this.”

“You disobeyed me.”

“Right, well I spent ten damn years in twenty different countries, constantly looking over my shoulder, obeying your instructions. And I guess now I’ll spend the rest of my life doing the same thing. So let me get to it.” The two engaged in a stare-down of prolonged duration.

“You’ll leave right away?”

“Just give me time to pack my bags. We’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.”

Jackson rubbed his chin as he considered this proposal. “Tell me something, LuAnn, tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

She had been prepared for that question. “Because Donovan might find it a little peculiar that right after he talks to me I end up a corpse. He’s not suspicious now. I think I can guarantee you that would get his radar going. You really want that kind of trouble?”

Jackson pursed his lips for a moment and then motioned to the door. “Go pack.”

LuAnn looked at him and motioned to the door. “You first.”

“Let’s leave together, LuAnn. That way, we’ll each have a reasonable chance at reciprocating in kind in the event one of us tries something violent.”

They went to the door together, their gazes glued to each other.

Right when Jackson put his hand on the doorknob, the door burst open, almost knocking him down.

Riggs stood there, his gun leveled on Jackson. Before he could fire, Jackson pulled LuAnn in front of him, his hand edging downward.

“Matthew, don’t,” LuAnn cried out.

Riggs shot her a glance. “LuAnn—”

LuAnn sensed rather than saw Jackson cock his arm. He was using an underhanded throwing method to hurl the knife, but it wouldn’t be any less deadly that way.

Her hand shot out, partially colliding with Jackson’s forearm. The next instant Riggs was grunting in pain, the knife sticking out of his arm. He dropped to the floor, clutching at the blade’s handle. LuAnn pulled her gun out of her pocket and whipped around, trying to draw a bead on Jackson. At the very same time, Jackson pulled her backward against him.

Their combined momentum sent Jackson and LuAnn crashing through the glass window. LuAnn landed on top of him as they hit the porch, hard. LuAnn’s pistol squirted free from her hand and slid across the porch. Each felt the subtle but undeniable strength of the other as they wrestled amid the thick, slippery shards of glass, trying to gain some footage. He clutched at her neck, she kicked at his groin, one of her elbows levered against his chin. Locked tightly together, they both rose slowly, each seeking an advantage. She noted the blood pouring from the grisly wound on Jackson’s hand; he must have cut it going through the window. His grip couldn’t be a hundred percent, she thought. With a sudden burst of strength that seemed to astonish even Jackson, LuAnn tore free from him, seized him by his belt and shirt front, and threw him face first against the side of the cottage where he slumped down, momentarily stunned from the impact. Without wasting an instant or any unnecessary motion, LuAnn propelled herself forward, straddled his back, gripped his chin with both hands, and pulled it backward, trying her best to crack his spine. Jackson screamed in pain as she pulled harder and harder. Another inch and he was a dead man. Her hands, however, suddenly slipped and she fell backward, landing in the glass. She exploded up and then froze as she looked down. In her hands was Jackson’s face.

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