When Damon opened his eyes again, rain was beating against the windows like a shower of ball bearings. Elena was pressing hard on his wound.

"Will you please stop that? It hurts like a son of a bitch."

Her brow was furrowed. "Damon, I need to stop the bleeding!"

"What time is it?" He crooked his left arm and blinked the numerals on his wristwatch into focus.

"Almost mid-day."

"How long have I been out?" Although he had to clench his jaw to keep from moaning, he struggled up so he could check for himself.

"Stay still!" she ordered. "You are going to bleed again if you move."

"Mouthy," he hissed.

"I'm the doctor and you are the patient. You have to listen to me," she said firmly.

"Still mouthy."

She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me something. Are you trying to get a rise out of me, or does being this irritating come naturally to you?"

Damon's eyes flickered over her with amusement. "I suppose I may be trying to annoy you a little."

"Why?" Elena asked in exasperation.

He seemed to think about this. "Maybe because I can. Quite easily, apparently."

"Seriously, how can you still act like this when there is a chance you are going to die?"

"You won't be able to escape if I'm not dead," he said dryly. "You want me dead."

"I told you, and I meant it, that I didn't want you to die."

He smiled a little. "I like it when you are mouthy."

"You are a terrible person."

He smirked. "But you like it."

"No, I don't," she retorted. "You have been a terrible person..."

He interrupted her. "What was that?"

"What?" She followed the direction of his gaze to the glass windows. "Lightning. It has been flashing off and on for at least half an hour…"

"Did you call 911?"

She blinked a couple of times. "Yes, you need help. I found my phone…"

"Dammit!"

She gaped at him as she watched him trying to get up. "What are you doing? You can't…"

"Be quiet!"

"Damon…"

A voice called out. "I'm Deputy Robertson. Someone called for help."

"We need an ambulance…." Elena shouted.

She couldn't finish her sentence as Damon clamped his left hand over her mouth. "Be quiet!"

"Please identify yourself," the deputy said. "We know you are in there."

"Stop!" Damon ordered. "Do not come in!"

"Who is hurt?" the deputy shouted back.

He removed his hand from her mouth and blinked hard to keep from passing out from the pain as he struggled to sit. "Don't say another word."

"Miss Gilbert, are you alright?" the deputy called out again.

She looked at Damon, who nodded his permission for her to speak.

"Yes. But…but we need help—"

"Enough!" Damon said.

"Who is hurt?" the deputy asked again.

Elena looked at him with evident concern. "Please, Damon, you need to go to the hospital…"

He held her gaze for a brief moment, and then he stifled a laugh of self-deprecation. "Robertson, you ready to parley?"

x x x

"This must be the place," Alaric said as Tanner rounded a bend in the road.

Through the rain, light bars of several squad cars were flashing their tricolour warning. Some of the vehicles were parked end to end along the shoulder; one was sideways in the middle of the road. A state trooper, outfitted in a slicker, alighted from the passenger side and came over as Tanner rolled to a stop and lowered the driver's window.

Andie had informed them that a woman identifying herself as Elena Gilbert had called 911 asking for help in Atlanta. The FBI had also managed to locate the signal from Elena's phone this morning.

A waterfall of rainwater flowed from the brim of the trooper's hat as he dipped his head and peered in at them. "Agent Saltzman?"

"I'm Tanner. This is Agent Saltzman."

The trooper acknowledged them in turn and introduced himself. "The house is about half a mile up the road, which has turned to mush in this rain."

"Is this the only road in and out?"

"Yes, sir. Dead-ends at the building, which backs up to wetlands."

"We don't know if he has a vehicle, but we have to assume so. If he somehow eludes us—"

"He will have to get past all of us here, and that isn't going to happen."

Alaric liked the trooper's confidence. "We don't know what kind of arsenal he has, so be careful."

"You all, too."

The trooper backed away and signalled the driver of the unit parked sideways to pull forward. Once they were past the roadblock, Tanner followed the trooper's flashlight as he motioned him into a left turn.

The road was mush. They slip-slid for the approximate half mile until they came to a a magnificent house made of native stone and cedar and surrounded by wooden decks, with huge expanses of glass.

"How the hell did he find this place?" Tanner said. "No wonder we can't find them."

"Andie told me that this house belongs to Joseph Salvatore."

"Joseph Salvatore?"

"His great grandfather."

Parked in front of it were numerous squad cars, several official SUVs, and two ambulances. Law enforcement personnel were outfitted in rain gear, making it difficult to differentiate the various departments represented unless their backs were to Alaric and he could read the reflective letters on their slickers. Most reassuring to him was that there were plenty of them, signifying a lot of firepower.

As Tanner carefully steered their car across the road, one of the officers separated himself from the rest and came slogging toward them. Alaric motioned for him to join them inside the car. He opened the backseat door and got in, mumbling an apology for slinging rainwater.

Alaric asked him if there had been any change since they'd last talked.

"Nothing."

"So you don't know for sure that she is still alive."

"She was when I got here. Last thing Salvatore said was that he would surrender to you and you only. Since he laid down that condition, there has been nothing from him but silence, and I have tried several times to engage him. Her, too. Not a peep. But if he has killed her, he didn't use a gun. No shots have been fired."

"She didn't tell you why an ambulance was needed?"

"No. I asked several times which of them was hurt. Got no answer. I guess the son of a bitch meant it when he said he wouldn't talk to anybody except you."

Alaric dragged his hand down his face. "Okay. I will talk to him."

"If you think I'm letting you go in there by yourself, think again," Tanner said.

"That is what Salvatore wants."

"Screw what he wants. That guy is crazy."

"Which he swore to shoot one by one if they stormed the place," Deputy Robertson said.

"Till they kill him," Tanner argued.

"Or he kills her."

Alaric's words fell like bricks and crushed Tanner's argument. He said shit under his breath and turned to address Alaric. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Alaric gave him a vapid smile. "I'm wearing a vest."

"He is a head-shot guy."

Alaric grinned. "Don't worry, I won't let him kill me."

x x x

Damon had been aware of the assemblage beyond the door, but neither he nor Elena had remarked on the arrivals of other vehicles, the new sets of voices, the lights periodically slicing across the front door and penetrating the windows.

He had heard the men scuttling along the exterior, looking for a way in, or a possible escape route for him. They were wasting their time. He wasn't going to escape.

It was coming up on two hours since the deputy had arrived, and time had become an important factor. Damon was fully aware that he was losing too much blood. Several times Elena had pleaded with him not to wait for the FBI agent to arrive, but rather to surrender himself to the officers already there, to let paramedics take emergency measures before transporting him to the nearest hospital.

It had been a tempting proposition, but he remained undeterred. "We wait for the fed."

Having grown increasingly lightheaded, he had been lying down for the past twenty minutes. Elena sat beside him, looking worried.

He thought back to how she had looked in that bar. A knockout. Upon getting his up-close look at her, his centre had tightened and warmed with awareness and want, and he had thought, Damn.

Then he remembered the first time he had met her six months ago in the alley where the Strangler had captured her. He would never forget the way she had looked at him that night. She was stunning and in a way special.

And she had turned out to be exactly as he had believed. Sexy, smouldering, stubborn, fascinating. Just the way he had liked. Maybe it was those brown doe eyes.

He knew everything in his carefully ordered world would shift and change the moment he decided to save her from being killed by Trevor.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"I'm not scared."

"Being so mouthy will scare off your boyfriend," he teased.

Her reaction to that was swift and angry. "This is not the time to talk about this."

"You are almost thirty-one, never been married and, according to Trevor, hasn't dated seriously in months. All indications are that you are a meek, lonely, little spinster who lives for your work."

"My relationship is none of your business," she said coldly.

"Being mouthy doesn't appeal to all men."

"Oh, just shut up!"

They both fell silent for a few seconds. Finally, Elena asked, "Why did you do all these?"

"What?"

"You know…kidnap, kill people…"

"I do it for the money," he said carelessly.

"I don't believe you."

He held her gaze for several seconds, then closed his eyes. "You don't have to."

"I don't believe you would kill me."

He didn't answer.

Suddenly the quiet was shattered by his name being boomed through a speaker and reverberating through the house. He sprang bolt upright and almost blacked out from the reflexive movement and the riot of pain it caused.

"This is Special Agent Alaric Saltzman, FBI. Damon Salvatore?"

"Yeah. And I'm not deaf. Turn off that damn bullhorn."

After a pause of several seconds, the agent spoke to them in a voice no longer amplified but loud enough to carry. "All right, you asked for me, you got me. I'm coming in."

"Alone and unarmed," Damon said.

"I'm both."

A silhouette appeared in the open doorway, arms extended at his sides, fingers spread wide to show that his hands were empty.

"Miss Gilbert?"

Damon nudged her with his elbow. "Answer him but do not move."

She cleared her throat. "Agent Saltzman? I'm here."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine. But Damon is seriously wounded."

"How so?"

"Someone attacked us this morning…"

Damon said, "I got stuck in the gut but he isn't better." He glanced at the attacker who was being tied up. He was groaning in pain.

Alaric took a moment to process that. "There is another man inside the house?"

"Yes," Elena answered.

"Is he dead?" Alaric asked.

Damon said, "The bastard got shot in the shoulder. He will live."

Alaric let that sink in. "Surrender, Mr Salvatore. You will receive immediate medical attention. You have my word."

Elena grabbed Damon's hand. "Please, Damon, please…"

Damon drew in a deep breath, and released it slowly. Turning his head to bring their faces close, and speaking in a voice only she could hear, he said, "To answer your question…The moment I laid eyes on you, your life was spared."

She took that in, her throat constricting with emotion. "So all this time I have been safe from you?"

"Safe from me?" He gave a grim smile and shook his head. "Not for a single second."

He held her stare for several beats more, then, removed his hand from hers. "Go."

"Damon—"

"Go!" His whisper was harsh, emphatic.

Sounding alarmed, Alaric shouted from the doorway. "Miss Gilbert, what going on?"

Damon said, "Go!"

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Jesus!" He flashed her an angry stare. "Will you get the hell away from me?"

She hesitated a second more, then made to stand up, but Damon grabbed her arm. "Alert him, so he won't blast you."

"Agent Saltzman," she called shakily. "I'm coming out. All right?"

"Is he armed?"

"No."

Elena stood up, turned away from him, and started walking slowly towards the front door. She was walking unsteadily. As she neared him, she raised her hands in surrender. Both her hands and her clothing were liberally bloodstained.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Okay, just like that," Alaric said, "with arms raised." He jerked his head towards the open door behind him. "Now. Tanner?"

"Here!"

"She is coming out."

She scurried past Alaric and through the door. Alaric stayed where he was, but he could hear Tanner speaking to her quietly and urgently. After a moment, Alaric spoke softly over his shoulder. "Tanner, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Is she all right?"

"Shaking like a leaf. Dazed. Otherwise okay."

"What did she say about him?"

"Badly wounded."

"Is he armed?"

"She says no."

Alaric took several deep breaths to bolster himself mentally and physically for whatever might occur in the next few minutes, then called out Salvatore's name.

"I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me," Damon said. "What is taking you so long?"

"Are you armed?"

"No."

"Convince me."

Damon chuckled. "I'm almost a dead man. Why should I lie?"

As Alaric moved farther into the house, he gained a clearer view of the man sitting on the sofa. He was angled thirty degrees to his right, bracing himself on that arm. His left hand was pressed against his left side, which he was obviously favouring.

"Raise your hands," Alaric said.

Grimacing, Damon shifted into a more upright position and removed his left hand from his side, then did as ordered. His face was waxy and pale. Sweat had plastered strands of hair to his forehead. Blood had soaked into his clothes and was smeared beneath him on the sofa.

Alaric gripped his extended pistol tighter. "Hands behind your head."

"Hands behind my head? That will hurt like a mother."

"I don't give a shit. Do it."

Either he was a damn good actor, or he really was in excruciating pain. Even the slightest motion caused him to gasp. He paused several times, switching between holding his breath and panting. It took him a full minute to do as Alaric had ordered, but when he was in the position, Alaric called out for Tanner and the others.

Alaric himself was nearly mowed down by the special ops officers in assault gear who charged into the house and rushed past him to form a ring around Salvatore, shouting at him not to move, their weapons primed to fire if he did.

As Salvatore was being cuffed, the paramedics were allowed in and, for the next five minutes, he was in their charge. While they performed triage, and got an IV started, Alaric glanced through the door to the outside.

Several officers, including Deputy Robertson, were grouped around Elena. Someone had draped a slicker over her. Alaric could see her lips moving, so he knew she was responding to Robertson's questions, but she was staring straight ahead through the door of the house, past him and Tanner, as though in a trance.

"She looks spooked," Alaric said. "Does she need medical attention?"

"She says no."

"They should at least put her in a car, get her out of the rain."

"They tried," Tanner said. "She wouldn't budge."

Alaric turned and met Tanner's gaze. Tanner raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

Another of the officers approached Alaric with a bagged object. "We found this in the living room. Looks like he was being stabbed by this."

"No wonder he is bleeding out," Alaric said. "Is he going to make it?"

"She is asking, too," Tanner answered. "Paramedic said it depends on what all was sliced and diced by the knife. Also on how tough he is."

"How is the other guy?" Alaric said. "Is he alright?"

"He will live according to the paramedic."

"Got an identity?"

"Gavin Mclean," Tanner said. "Used to work for Wes Maxfield but disappeared two years ago after killing an undercover DEA agent."

Alaric raised his brows. "Undercover DEA agent?"

"Yeah. The DEA had sent in their own undercover agent to make contact with Maxfield two years ago but Maxfield had figured out who the guy was."

Alaric thought about it. "I think I remember that. The DEA was too late by the time they came for the rescue."

"Ivan Stone was dead when the DEA arrived and Mclean had disappeared since then."

"Son of a bitch!" Alaric hissed.

He walked over to where the paramedics were transferring Damon onto a gurney. Robertson's man cuffed both his hands to the rails. During the process, Damon was jostled. That brought on an outburst of vile and profane language the likes of which Alaric hadn't heard since his wife had delivered their son breach. One of the paramedics assured Damon that the pain med he was getting intravenously would soon begin working.

Damon nodded at the paramedic, but his gaze had moved beyond him and connected with Alaric's. He looked him up and down and gave a derisive snort. "I didn't know the FBI was so hard up."

Alaric smiled. "We don't get paid as much like you."

Damon gave another snuffle of contempt and closed his eyes.

"It is over, Salvatore. We have found out your dirty past in Mexico." When Damon's eyes open, Alaric said, "You won't be so lucky this time."

Damon smirked. "It is not over yet, Agent Saltzman. You won't know who the winner is until the very end."

Thank you for all the support and kind words so far. Hopefully my reader will enjoy reading this chapter.