Scorpion Strike. John Gilstrap

me.”

      Gail’s finger caressed her trigger, but she hesitated. “Who are you?”

      “My name is Harm,” he said. He winced against a wave of pain. “Harm Mohren. I am Dutch. I am not with them.”

      “Why are you here?”

      “Please help me. I have been shot.”

      “I know,” Gail said. “I’m the one who shot you.”

      “For God’s sake, Gail, what are you doing?” Jonathan said. She could tell from the effort in his voice that he was running.

      She pulled her Bluetooth from her ear and slipped it into her pocket. “Answer me,” she pressed, moving closer. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”