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completed Kendra stepped away, the hotel room snapping back immediately into focus. Something was wrong. The slimy man hadn't fallen the way her opponents at the dojo always fell. There had been a sharp crack, and he had landed in a too-silent sprawl at her feet.
    Her momentary exhilaration was squelched almost before it began. Alarmed, she dropped to her knees beside the limp figure. It occurred to her he must have struck his head on the edge of the long, low chest of drawers as he went down.
    The blood drained from her face, and her knuckles pressed agitatedly against her mouth as Kendra came alive to the fact that she might have seriously injured or even killed a man.
    Horrified at the paleness of the weasellike face, Kendra tried to pull her thoughts together and figure out what to do. Would anyone believe her when she explained the situation? With shaking fingers, she reached out to find the pulse at the base of the man's throat.
    She was fumbling for a sign of life in her victim when the hotel-room door swung open, and she glanced up with stunned eyes to see Case Garrett filling the doorway. She was irrationally glad to see him.
    "Case! Oh, God! I think I've killed him!"
    Without thinking Kendra scrambled to her feet, hurling herself toward the grim-faced man as he stepped silently into the room and shut the door. She was only dimly aware of his arms coming out to catch and hold her as she threw herself against the unexpectedly comforting hardness of his chest.
    "What the hell is going on here, Kendra?" he bit out as she buried her face against the slightly damp material of his evening jacket. A part of her mind registered the fact
    that he must have followed her without going back to his apartment to get his coat.
    "I'll explain later," she insisted frantically. "Do something, Case, I think he's dead! I didn't mean to kill him! I only meant to—"
    Without a word he disentangled himself from her frantically clinging embrace and set her gently aside.
    She watched, appalled, as he went down on one knee beside the fallen man and examined him with quick expertise.
    "Is he—"
    "He'll be fine," Case cut in brusquely, slanting a speculative, dark glance up at her alarmed features. "What did you do to him, Kendra?"
    "I — I threw him. He was coming at me, and I just threw him. I think he hit his head on that set of drawers when he went down, though." Kendra took a deep breath, struggling for control of her shaking voice.
    It was all right now. Case would know what to do next. Lord! Who would have thought things would get so complicated? You never worried about what to do after you'd downed your opponent while practicing. You didn't think about things like calling the police, having to fetch a doctor, or coming up with explanations. . . .
    "Who is he, Kendra?"
    Case's voice seemed suddenly quite hard to her. She glanced from the fallen man to the black-haired, one-eyed man at his side. Case not only sounded hard, he looked hard. Kendra swallowed as her rational faculties finally reasserted themselves. What did she really know about Case Garrett? There was absolutely no reason on earth to view him as a potential ally! This was his town, and he would know all the important people, such as the police and the owner of the hotel where she was staying. His loyalties would be clearly defined, and they wouldn't necessarily include her!
    "I—I don't know, Case," she began with greater caution, rapidly sorting through her short list of options. She had her loyalties, too, and it was time she started remembering them. "He was waiting for me in the hall when I came back to my room. Are you sure he's going to be all right?"
    "I'm sure," Case remarked with evident lack of interest in that subject. He was reaching for the man's wallet, flipping open the worn leather folder to examine the few cards and papers inside. "His license says his name is Gilbert Phelps. Mean anything to you? He's a private investigator."
    "No. Case, do you think we