Texas Takedown. Heather Woodhaven

On Marriage Island—a tiny, unlit inlet that jutted into the San Antonio River—a couple stood in the shadows against the tree. He almost looked away, but the profile looked remarkably like Isabelle’s. He saw the outline of the man wrench a bag from her torso.

      Matt vaulted through the crowd. As he rounded the tree, the man pointed a gun at Isabelle. “Hey!” As the man turned to aim the gun at him, Matt grabbed the assailant’s arm and twisted it until the weapon dropped from his hand. The man punched Matt in the gut with his other arm.

      Pain vibrated down his legs from the impact.

      The man pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed it into Isabelle’s torso. She cried out and crumpled. Matt pulled his fist back and slammed it into the assailant’s jaw.

      The man stumbled backward until he took off into a run, the messenger bag bouncing off his hip. He ran around the tree, pushed tourists aside and dashed up a flight of stairs to the upper level of stores.

      “Stop him,” Matt shouted, but over the noise, he doubted anyone heard him. The creep didn’t even glance back before he slipped between two buildings and disappeared.

      Isabelle’s hands held her stomach. Matt dropped to his knees. He looked past the tree and yelled for help at a group passing by. He reached for Isabelle. How badly had she been stabbed?

      She coughed. “He’s getting away.”

      He couldn’t call for an ambulance without his phone, which still resided in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He reached for her and prepared himself for the worst as his eyes focused on the rip in his suit, where she’d been stabbed. He pulled back the jacket slowly, inwardly cringing at what he might find.

      Instead of blood he saw only fabric. His eyes lifted to her face.

      She pressed her hand on her stomach. “It didn’t pierce me. The force of it just hurt. Your jacket... Was there something in the pocket?” Her frown cleared as she pulled out his phone and wallet. Cracks radiated across the screen. In the center of the phone he could see the point of impact. If the blade had hit flesh... He gulped.

      Her right hand reached for his wrist.

      “Isabelle, you could’ve been—”

      “But I wasn’t. You saved my life,” she whispered. Her eyes filled. “He got away with everything. My phone, my wallet, my tablet... It’s all gone.”

      He squeezed her hand. “All replaceable.” Unlike her.

      Two policemen ran up to the tree. One took a knee. “Ma’am, do you need an ambulance?”

      Twenty minutes passed before the officers were finished with their questions. Matt half listened to their reassurances to Isabelle that if she came to the police station for the report, she would likely still be able to fly home without an ID.

      One officer stepped away while he listened to his radio. He approached again. “Ma’am, you said you were pursued earlier today by two men? Was this attack made by one of the same men?”

      “No.” She frowned. “I’m positive.”

      “Were there any witnesses to the earlier event?”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Just Matt.”

      The officer gave him a long glance. “And you were the only witness to this altercation, as well?”

      Matt leaned back on his heels. Was the officer implying they were making the incidents up? “We were surrounded by witnesses. Surely someone saw something.” He waved behind him to the sidewalk.

      “If they did, they didn’t stick around to tell their story.” The other officer narrowed his eyes.

      Matt threw his hands up in the air. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

      The officer ignored him and addressed Isabelle. “I assure you it’s very unusual for one of our tourists to be a victim of so much crime in one day, ma’am. Were you carrying anything valuable that would draw attention?”

      Isabelle grabbed her sparkling necklace. The temptation to ask who gave her that welled up in Matt again. “Only the usual conference-attendee stuff,” she said. “Wallet, tablet, phone—you know, basically my whole world.” She smiled weakly.

      Matt recalled the way she’d begged for him to put her laptop in the hotel safe. She had been carrying it in her messenger bag. What if the people who tore up her room were looking for the information that was on her laptop?

      The memory of the man shoving the knife into Isabelle made him flinch. If he’d been after the laptop and thought he’d grabbed it, then why stab her? His blood ran cold. Did someone want her out of the picture?

      The police officers repeated their safety advice to her and walked away.

      Matt met her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell them about the laptop?”

      She looked uneasy. “It wasn’t pertinent.”

      “Wasn’t it?” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I think it’s time you told me more about these underwater drones.”