Free Cross Off by Peter Corris

why you lied about Belfante and Frost.'
    Ava squirmed but Tate easily held her down. He displayed the knife again, this time with blood on the blade. 'Why?'
    'Revenge.'
    Tate could understand that. In the army he'd killed several times out of revenge, comrades as well as enemies. 'Revenge for what?'
    Ava spat at him. Tate jerked his head and the spittle missed. He laughed and slapped her face. 'Tell me, bitch!'
    'Vance's baby.'
    Tate had no interest in whether the answer was true or not; it would do as something to take back. He moved the knife, ready to slide it through the bulging neck artery when he realised that he was fully erect. Ava's shirt was torn and the halter had slipped away revealing one large, ripe breast. Tate wanted to grip it, to bite the nipple, feel her reaction. She wriggled and the contact almost made him come. He punched her, a hard, solid jolt to the jaw, and her straining head bumped on the ground. Her eyes closed. Tate tore the halter free and exposed both breasts; he dropped the knife and ran his hands over them, pinched the nipples. He held her down and eased himself off her, ready to use the knife instantly if he had to. She groaned. The soft breasts moved.
    Tate was sweating heavily. The drops fell on Ava's face and chest. He used the knife to cut through the waistband of the shorts on both sides of the zipper and slit the legs all the way down. He peeled back the cut cloth. She wore black lacy pants. Tate cut them away and pushed her legs apart. Her pubic hair was dark with some grey in it. He used three fingers roughly to open her. He unzipped his pants and freed his stiff penis. He thrust into her and ejaculated almost immediately.
    Ava arched her back and heaved. She brought her legs together and Tate screamed as his testicles were crushed. He fell away from her. He had let go of the knife as he orgasmed. He felt for it. Ava thudded her knees into his kidneys and wriggled away. She bellowed for help at the top of her lungs.
    'Ava! Ava!' Dunlop's voice. Ava yelled again as Tate found the knife and slashed at her. He was off balance but the knife sliced deep into her forearm. Ava screamed. Tate stabbed, catching the knife in her torn shirt but still striking into her rib cage. He could hear a thrashing in the bush. Very close. No more time for the woman now. He jerked the gun out and fired once in the direction of the sound. His shot made a small coughing sound and was answered by a loud crack. A bullet splintered a tree beside his head. Tate dived behind a bush, crouched, waited for a target. Ava went on hands and knees in the other direction. He'd lost her. He put the knife back in the sheath. Had to get this bastard. Had to get him quick!
    'Ava, Jesus.'
    Tate heard Dunlop's whisper. Good, he'd worry about the woman.
    'He's in there,' Ava moaned. 'In there!'
    Two bullets whipped into the scrub, uncomfortably close. Tate thought he knew where they'd come from and raised his pistol. Another shot almost hit him. He was drenched in sweat and his fingers slipped on the pistol grip. He ducked down and suddenly felt his vision blur and his strength ebb. He rubbed his hands across his eyes. He couldn't focus. He knew what it was, the fucking diabetes. The heavy sweating was the warning. He'd forgotten toeat mid-morning and all the activity and excitement had sent his blood sugar plummeting. He felt in his pocket for barley sugar but he had none. Must have dropped it. In a few minutes he'd be as weak as a kitten. He needed sugar fast. Tate almost wept with frustration. The bush in front of him, across from the flattened, bloodied grass, was a blur. He eased back, still skilled despite the increasing weakness, into the scrub. Quietly, slowly, until he was far enough away to stand up and move faster.
    'He raped me,' Ava whimpered. 'That bastard raped me. Kill him! Kill him!'
    Dunlop cradled Ava's upper body in his arms. She was very pale and her arm was bleeding heavily. He eased her gently down on his