Free The Dark Gate by Pamela Palmer Page A

And the albino tried to kill anyone he couldn’t control.
    Jack’s mouth grew pinched. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He released her and turned away. “Henry doesn’t even know. None of my men remember any of it.” He stared at nothing, his eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s just like the murder. And the assaults. No one remembered a thing.”
    â€œDid he…was anyone hurt?” The woman she’d watched strangled had haunted her dreams. And her poor daughter…
    â€œNo. I stopped a murder in progress and foiled an assault. Barely.”
    Larsen had to struggle to keep the relief from showing in her face. “What about him …the albino. Did you catch him?”
    â€œNo. I shot him, but…” His razor-sharp gaze cut to hers. “Why did you call him an albino?”
    â€œWhat would you call someone that white?”
    His eyes narrowed dangerously. “And just how do you know his skin’s that white?”
    Larsen stared at him, too late realizing her mistake. She wasn’t supposed to have seen him except for the security video. And the man had never turned around. She’d known it was him from his hair and his odd clothes. But not his skin.
    Damn, damn, damn. “That hair…” Her voice cracked and she cleared it. “I just assumed…”
    â€œHe’s white. Pure unadulterated white. Total absence of color except for his eyes.” His own eyes glittered ominously. “There’s no way in hell you could know that from that piece-of-crap tape.” He veered toward her.
    â€œJack…” Her heart pounded at the stupidity of her slip.
    He stopped a hand breadth away from her, but didn’t grab her this time, as if he didn’t trust himself. His eyes were no longer burning with fury, but with something far more dangerous.
    â€œYou are going to tell me the truth, Larsen,” he said with deadly softness. “ All of it. Right now. Or I’m going to haul your ass to the station and lock you up until you decide to talk. I’m through playing games, lady.”
    She couldn’t tell him how she knew. She couldn’t. Ever.
    She forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching, to stare into blue eyes as rigid as the steel bars of a prison. “I’ve told you all I can, Jack.”
    The planes of his face hardened. “Then I’m taking you in for questioning.” He reached for her, then stopped midmotion, his body going rigid. “Hide.”
    â€œWhat?” But then she heard it, too. A commotion out front.
    A shout. A child’s cry of pain. Running feet.
    â€œ Hide, Larsen!”
    He spun away, leaving her staring after him, shaking, as he pulled the gun from his waistband and ran for the front door.
    She had to get out of here. She had to get away from him. He knew too much, or suspected too much. Either way, if he hauled her into that police station, she’d never come out again. Not whole.
    As she started for the bedroom, Jack wrenched the door open, revealing a young, dark-skinned girl standing on the porch, a smaller child lying at her feet. Larsen stopped, recognizing the kids Jack had been playing ball with that day at the marina. Was it only three days ago?
    â€œWhat happened?” Jack demanded as he bent and scooped up the boy.
    Words spilled out of the girl’s mouth in a quivering rush. “There were two little bald people trying to see in your windows.”
    Larsen’s eyes widened. Her archer.
    Jack ushered the girl into the house.
    â€œHe shot me,” the boy said as Jack kicked the door shut, then turned to lock it despite his full arms.
    â€œWhere, David?” Jack strode to the sofa and deposited the child gently. “Show me.”
    The boy lifted his shirt to show an unblemished expanse of brown tummy.
    Jack nodded. He speared Larsen with his gaze as he rose. “I’m going after them. Lock the door behind me,