The Warrior by Sharon Sala Page A

back.”
    That was easier said than done, but she did sit down, her gaze glued to the security screen as she listened to John’s receding footsteps.
    Â 
    It hadn’t taken Dieter long to find where John Nightwalker lived. Ironically, his success in locating the man was entirely due to the friendliness of Southerners. After a few wrong turns, he’d come upon a farmer fixing a fence on the shoulder of the road and stopped to ask him if he knew where an Indian called Big John lived.
    The man swiped at the sweat on his face with the back of his sleeve, then pointed north. “About two miles on down the road. Got two big iron gates right across the drive. Can’t miss it,” he said, and went back to his fence.
    Dieter quickly located the place. But the gates he’d been expecting were something similar to what he’d seen out in the farmer’s pasture to separate one field from another, not these. Not only were they every bit of fourteen, maybe even sixteen, feet high, they locked electronically. They were made of massive iron bars and very similar to the gates at the Ponte estate inMiami. It made him wonder who John Nightwalker was, and what he was doing up in those trees that he didn’t want anyone to see. Those gates told him that further security measures were no doubt also in place, but he was too afraid of his boss to listen to common sense and take a chance of failing him a second time.
    There was a call button on the gate that was meant to be used, allowing whoever was at the other end to furnish access. But Dieter didn’t intend to announce his arrival.
    He popped the trunk lid, then got out. Moments later, he headed toward the gate with his duffel bag in hand. He worked his way into the wiring, bypassed the electronic switch and disarmed it. When he heard it click, he grunted with satisfaction.
    Within minutes, he was most of the way up the drive, running a mental checklist of his weapons and what he might need to get Alicia Ponte into his car.
    When he turned a curve and saw Nightwalker’s black Jeep coming at him at full speed from the house in the background, his mind went into a tailspin. How the hell had the man known? No time for that. He switched into operations mode. He could ram the Jeep, but if the impact disabled his own vehicle, then he couldn’t get away. He was grabbing for his handgun as he stomped the brake and jammed the gearshift into Park.
    He jumped out, keeping the open door between him and the vehicle coming at him, then hunkered down and fired.
    The first shot hit a tire; the second went into the radiator, sending a spew of steam into the air. He expected the man to get out, but he thought the man would run for cover, not come at him with his bare fists. He hadn’t planned on leaving a body behind, but Ponte’sorders had been plain: Bring Alicia back at all costs. And now that order was about to cost this big Indian his life.
    He stood up from behind the car door and took aim.
    â€œStop right there or I’ll shoot,” he yelled.
    But John didn’t stop.
    Seeing the gun was proof enough to him that Alicia had been right about her father. He wanted her back bad, and he was willing to do anything to shut her up. When Dieter yelled, John knew what was coming. He dreaded the first burst of pain, even while knowing it wouldn’t last.
    â€œYou’re trespassing on private property,” he called as he continued to approach.
    Dieter’s finger tightened on the trigger. “I came to get Alicia. Turn her over to me now and I’ll let you live.”
    â€œNo,” John said coldly. “Get off my property now and I’ll let you live.”
    Dieter’s heart skipped a beat. Why would an unarmed man make such a futile threat? Was there something here he was missing? He glanced nervously from side to side, searching the perimeter of the roadside for the possibility of guards he hadn’t taken into account, but