McReady jerked the one he had stunned to his feet. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" He drew back his right hand to chop the man's jaw."Badge..." the man answered, "Shirt pocket." Remove it slowly and show me. One false move and I'll hurt you bad." McReady's voice held a deadly promise."Here," the man mumbled and brought his hand up toward his shirtfront. Gordon's eyes unconsciously followed the movement. The man's other hand snaked forward to do a throat punch.Before he could complete. His back was toward the ambusher, but in his thrashing around, he had managed to pull one of the Rugers from his holster. As he lay there, he heard the crunch of boots on the sand. He waited, hearing them come closer and finally stop just behind him. He made his body stay limp as he felt himself prodded with a rifle barrel. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face, and Alex hoped the killer wouldn't realize that dead men don't sweat.When he didn't react to the prodding, the wielder of. More

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