Catherine’s terror escalated when fingers wrapped around her ankle...

She tried to scream, crawl, kick, but her body wasn’t working right.

From deep in her stupor, she realized it must be Porter Stone. Her father’s killer was trying to draw her free from under the car. She tried to yank away, but she couldn’t fight off the effects of the explosion. From inside a thick cloud, she felt Stone tugging at her arm. With the heavy dog on one side and Garrett’s body blocking his access, he only succeeded in moving her a few inches. Catherine wanted to resist, to call out for help, but her mouth refused, her brain slow and sluggish.

Garrett hadn’t moved. Was he unconscious? Worse? Her pulse skittered.

The tugging continued. Now Stone had snagged a fistful of her jacket. Inexorably, he was sliding her away from Pinkerton and Garrett.

Despair clawed at the edges of Catherine’s mind. Her father was dead. Her sister, gone. And now Stone would have her, too...