Page 48

Forty-seven

“WE’VE GOT TO MOVE FASTER ,” Riley said as frigid water sloshed over the side. The dry suit kept her body warm, but her hands were freezing. There’d been no gloves in the shed.

The sun rose higher in the sky, streaking through the clouds, glinting off the class IV rapids.

“Heads up,” Greyson hollered over the roar of the rapids. They swirled up and curved around a series of treacherous boulders.

“That was close,” she said as they managed to traverse their way around. She caught a glimpse of movement ahead, but it vanished as quick as it’d come.

Water sloshed about, twisting the front of the kayak as they steered against the swift current. Nearly too swift to counter. Sunlight reflected off a swirling pattern in the water. Was that a...? “Whirlpool!” She paddled, praying they could avoid it.

“Too late,” Greyson yelled. “Hold tight.”

It sucked them in, spinning them. She clutched her paddle, trying to push them out of the whirlpool, while Greyson tried steering them with his. They pulled free.

She took a deep breath.

Thwack! A rock splintered before them.

“Down!” Grey yelled as the kickback from a gun echoed through the hollow.

She ducked a breath of a second before another thwack. Then kickback.

Keeping his head low, Greyson steered them through the swirling rapids, bouncing them along the roaring river, likely trying to make them a harder target.

But how had someone gotten behind them on the river? The house had been empty.

Peeking over the edge, she stiffened at the sight of Kevin, riding a rapid nearly on top of them. He’d caught up. But how? Her chest squeezed. Brent. He must have alerted the rest of the crew to Kelly and Jared’s trail.

Kevin steered across the rapids at them. He bumped their kayak, shoving them up against the line of jagged rocks to their left, pinning them. Then he let the rapids slam them.

Greyson pushed him back with his paddle, and Kevin did the same. On the highest peak of the rapid, Kevin rolled them. She grasped the duffel strap before everything went pitch-black as water threatened to burn up Riley’s nose. She fought the desperate instinct to breathe—her chest caving in with pressure.

Greyson’s hand grabbed hold of her arm. At least she prayed it was Greyson. He hauled her up.

Greyson. Thank you , Lord.

Greyson swam to the kayak, paddle in hand, thankfully. They’d both managed to grab theirs before going underwater. And she’d maintained hold of the duffel.

“Ready?” he roared above the rapids.

She nodded and took her paddle straight out on the left side, and then at a 90-degree angle, knowing Greyson was doing the same.

It took three tries, but they righted the kayak just in time to hit another whirlpool. It yanked Riley under just as Greyson’s voice cried out.

“Riley!” he hollered, his voice muffled by the raging rapids.

She pushed above the raging rapids, foam slapping at her mouth. She moved into a swim position, letting the rapids carry her, swinging her body to avoid rocks.

A hand clasped her hair from behind and yanked her up by it.

Kevin.

She kicked and flailed, but he kept pulling until she was over the side and into his kayak. She slammed her elbow back, and it collided, the crack of a breaking bone following.

Kevin swore and released his hold on her. She lunged back into the water, but not fast enough. He grabbed her foot, pulling her back. This time leaving her in the water and shoving her head under it.

He was saying something, but the words were lost in the water.

She fought for the surface, struggling, but half her body was under the kayak, the other half shoved under water.

A shot reverberated through the water, and the hold on her vanished.

A hand reached around her arm, pulling her up.

She gasped and spit out water.

Greyson pulled her up against him, her back to his chest.

They disappeared around a bend, and Kevin didn’t follow—at least not while the bend remained in their view.

“Did you get him?” Her chest heaved in a frigid breath, her lungs crackling.

“He was bobbing too fast. I only got him in the shoulder—not the chest.”

“He’s going to have a hard time controlling the kayak with a wounded arm.”

“You think he’ll bail? Hit an exit to get treatment?”

“He can’t keep going without getting the bullet out and at least wrapping it. I bet we’ve bought several hours.”

“Good,” Grey said, using his paddle as they soared up on a rapid, then crashed down into a bubble bath of white-water foam. “Let’s see if we can catch up with Kelly and Jared.”

She sat back in her seat, wedging the duffel between her feet—wondering what, if any, clues it held. But now was not the time to look. Now was for catching up.