The man jerked, glanced toward the house.
A gunshot cracked.Searing heat grazed Steinbeck’s arm.He stumbled, crashing to one knee, wet earth soaking his jeans, leaves sticking, but he rolled, found his feet, and scrambled behind the family UTV.
A glance out showed Luis dragging Emberly toward the dock.And with him, a woman had hold of Nimue, stumbling, fighting.Teresa.
How did—why?—
It didn’t matter.
He glanced back at the burning house, then at Emberly.She kicked at her captor, but she seemed to be weakening.
Her ribs had to be on fire.
Beside her, Teresa gripped Nimue, a gun jammed to her neck.
And that’s when he spotted the boat—a small skiff—listing at the end of the dock, hull rocking against the pilings.
They’d sneaked in via the lake, silent, unseen by the family as they ate on the porch, bypassing detection from the house, and somehow ignited the kitchen.Probably the same way they’d ignited Nimue’s kitchen—Molotov cocktail, slow-burning, giving them long enough to plant and escape.
If they got the girls to the boat, they’d put out across the lake and...
Vanish.
Yeah, no.He wasn’t losing Emberly.Not again.
Not ever.
He took off after them, nothing for a weapon but his bare hands, but this—this was...what he’d been made for.
“Luis, let her go!”he roared, hitting the dock, planks thudding under his shoes.
Luis spun, dragging Emberly, her knees buckling.“Back off or she’s done!”His gun swung up.
Teresa shoved Nimue forward.“Move or I shoot!”
Emberly twisted, voice hoarse.“Steinbeck—get Nim!”She slammed her elbow into Luis’s gut, and he stumbled, just enough?—
Steinbeck launched himself at him, slamming him off the dock’s edge.They crashed into the lake, the cold water swallowing them.The shock tried to punch out Steinbeck’s breath, but he held on, his head clearing, his legs around Luis.
And sank.
He could stay here all day.Luis thrashed, fist cracking Steinbeck’s jaw, blood bursting, metallic on his tongue.But still, he held.Lungs locked, breath held, muscles coiling.
Heat sliced his leg—he jerked.Another stab to his arm, enough to loosen his hold.
Luis jerked free and Stein kicked away, surfacing.
He cleared the water from his eyes in time to see Luis flash a knife.
Since when did Luis have skills?Except, maybe he always had.Who knew how far the man had played them?
Luis lunged at him, and Steinbeck jerked back, the blade barely missing his throat.But the movement jerked him off balance.The man landed on him, Steinbeck grabbing his wrist, fighting the knife hand.
Down they went, Steinbeck without a fresh breath, and this time Luis wrangled himself atop Stein, kicked his knee into Stein’s gut.
Air whooshed out.He fought, but his lungs burned, aching, the world spotty?—
He couldn’t be the guy who drowned in his parents’ backyard.He fought to find the bottom, to dislodge Luis, Stein’s grip still on Luis’s wrist?—
