“Go down!” Matt’s voice shouted.
Without looking to see where his friend was, he leaned his head back, raising his chin, trying to get one last sip of air into his lungs. Exhaling, Todd let himself sink again.
How many times could he do this? Exhaustion and panic were eroding his strength like high tide took down a sandcastle. The boat passed over him again. Todd pushed off the bottom one more time. His face broke the surface and he inhaled air, along with some water, through his nose and mouth.
“Todd!” Matt yelled from somewhere behind him.
Todd didn’t answer. Lake water burned the back of his throat and gagged him. Fuzziness encroached on his vision, and he was light-headed from lack of oxygen. Gasping, he couldn’t maintain the deep, steady breaths he needed to keep going.
In a few minutes, he was going to have to float. Otherwise, he’d drown.
Then that crazy bitch would run him over.
Matt grabbed his sleeve. Todd shook him off. If he died, he wouldn’t take Matt with him. Unable to keep his head above water any longer, Todd let himself sink.
All the way to the bottom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Bree aimed her rifle at Stephanie’s boat, but the vessel was moving fast and turning too quickly. Stephanie passed over the place where Bree had last spotted Matt and Todd, then her boat roared away.
Bree turned her attention from shooting the suspect to finding Matt and Todd. She lowered the gun and scanned the lake.
Where are they?
Fear wrung out her insides like a wet rag. They passed close to a navigation buoy. A red light blinked above white mile-marker numbers. Using her radio, Bree reported their location to dispatch. “What’s the ETA on the marine unit?”
A few seconds later, the dispatcher said, “Twenty-one minutes.”
Too long.
She tapped Juarez’s shoulder. “How deep is this water?”
“I don’t know.” Juarez gestured toward the empty dashboard. “This boat is old-school. It doesn’t have any electronics. Not even a depth finder.”
The running lights of Stephanie’s boat appeared in the darkness. She was circling back to finish the job. That bitch just wouldn’t give up.
“She’s trying to run them over again!” Bree pointed into the dark. She could just see a pale face in the moonlight.
Todd or Matt?
“We need to get them out of the water,” she yelled.
“Hold on, ma’am!” Juarez shouted.
She grabbed for a rail as her deputy brought the boat around in a sharp turn. He straightened their course. As they crossed back over their own wake, the deck pitched under her feet. Then the ride smoothed out again.
Bree turned back. Stephanie’s boat was a hundred yards away and closing the distance fast. Bree turned and scanned the water again. “Two o’clock.”
Juarez turned toward the person, keeping their boat between him and the approaching vessel. He eased back on the throttle. “She’s heading toward us.”
“I know.” Bree took a position on the bow. She braced a foot on a seat and leveled the AR-15 at the oncoming boat. Aiming at the silhouette behind the wheel, Bree squeezed off two shots. With the deck rolling under her and the movement of her target, she didn’t have much hope of hitting Stephanie. But she hoped to put a bullet close enough to the captain to make them veer off course.
The boat kept coming. She squeezed off another shot. Surely, Stephanie would turn.
Or would she play a deadly game of chicken?
Clammy sweat poured down Bree’s back, and sickness churned in her belly. If she was wrong, the other boat would ram hers, and they would all die. “Hurry up!”
“I see them in the water.” Juarez moved the boat forward. He left the wheel to lean over the side. Bree glanced over. She could see two heads above the water.
Juarez straddled the gunwale and tried to haul Todd out of the water, but with Todd’s hands and feet bound, the task was proving very difficult. Todd was essentially deadweight. In the water, Matt tried to help, but he had no leverage.
Bree turned back to the approaching boat again. It wasn’t wavering from its course. In about thirty seconds, it would crash into them. She slid her finger into the trigger guard and fired another shot. Stephanie kept coming, headed straight for them.
The boat rocked. Bree glanced behind her to see Matt climbing up the swim ladder next to the outboard. He rushed to Juarez’s side, reached over, and grabbed hold of Todd. Together, Matt and Juarez dragged Todd over the side. The boat rocked again at the change in weight. The three men fell to the deck in a sloppy, wet pile.
Bracing herself against the pitch of the deck, Bree shot at the oncoming boat once more. Stephanie was almost on top of them. One of Bree’s bullets must have hit something, because the boat finally swerved. It passed close enough that Bree could see Stephanie at the wheel. Next to her, Dylan gripped the dashboard.
As the boat passed, Bree fired a few rounds at the engine.
The deck rocked harder as Stephanie’s wake reached them. Bree kept her weapon pointed at Stephanie, but the boat was pitching too violently for her to take aim. She grabbed for a rail but wasn’t quick enough. She lost her footing and went down. Her ass hit the deck, and pain sang up her tailbone. She lunged to one knee and leveled the rifle again. No shot.
Juarez lunged across the deck, grabbed the wheel, and gave the engine some gas. He turned the boat so the approaching waves hit the bow at a forty-five-degree angle and the hull was better able to absorb the wake. He yelled back at Bree, “Are we going after them?”
Bree hurried to Todd. He looked rough but his life didn’t appear to be in immediate danger. As unprofessional as it felt, she wanted to hug him. After she’d worked with—and trained—him for the last seven months, Todd felt like a little brother. She held back for fear of hurting him. “How badly are you hurt?”
Matt lifted seats and opened little cubbies all over the boat. He came back with a first aid kit and a folding knife. He cut the ropes binding Todd’s wrists and ankles. Todd fell back, relief seeming to exhaust him. Shaking, he lay on his side and rubbed his wrists. “Go!” he croaked. “Don’t let them get away.”
“You’re sure?” she asked.
Todd shivered, coughed, and gestured toward the retreating boat.
Matt opened the first aid kit. Sitting on the floor of the boat, he dug in it for Mylar blankets, which he wrapped around Todd’s shoulders.
“I’ll live.” Todd’s teeth chattered. “Let’s get them.”
Bree considered his condition for two seconds. Hypothermic. Beaten. But no gushing blood or obvious broken bones. The chance of internal injuries gave her pause, but the determination in his eyes made her decision. She tapped Juarez on the forearm. “Go after them.”
Juarez’s face split in a feral grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you catch her?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Juarez gunned the engine. The boat leaped forward.
Stephanie had a head start, but the boat they’d commandeered had more horsepower. Juarez wasn’t timid about speed once everyone was settled and secure in the boat. They gained steadily.
Bree kept one eye on Todd. Wrapped in two Mylar blankets, he gritted his teeth. The ride was smooth on the flat water. Juarez was following Stephanie’s wake, staying in the center of the V. But Todd was freezing. She suspected sheer determination was keeping him upright. He should be headed for the ER.
Damn it. She didn’t want to let Dylan and Stephanie get away either.
They drew closer.
In the moonlight, Stephanie looked back. Her boat sounded like it was already at top speed. Dylan was at the back of the boat, watching the deputies gain on them. Stephanie lifted her hand and pointed behind her.
“Gun!” Juarez crouched behind the windshield.
“Get down.” Bree ducked, even though they were too far away for an accurate shot with a pistol. Stephanie could get lucky.
A muzzle flash blinked. Dylan toppled over the stern and into the water.