“Stabbed?” With new tears making her voice thick, she asked, “You’re sure you’re all right?”
He nodded. “I dove overboard before they could do more damage. It was so dark, you couldn’t see past the yacht’s lights. None of them knew anything about boating, so they kept watching the water where I’d gone in.” He hugged her. “They didn’t expect me to surface at the stern.”
Sahara gasped. “The life raft!”
“You know I kept it strapped on the transom for easy access. They were excited, all talking at once, so they didn’t hear me unfasten it. Even once I had it, I kept swimming away from the boat.”
“You were bleeding?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.
“Yeah, and I don’t mind telling you, every shark movie I’d ever seen kept playing in my head.”
Asshole, Brand wanted to shout. Why give her the gruesome details now? She was already upset. Scott should be reassuring her, not adding to her nightmare memories.
“I was still pushing farther away when they started the motor and drove away from me. Then I inflated the raft and made my way to shore.”
“You keep saying them and they. Who was it, Scott? Who did this to us?”
A gust of wind rode in off the river, causing the leaves over Brand’s head to shudder, spilling more rain down on him. He swiped a hand over his face, determined to keep Sahara in his sights at all times.
He watched as Scott struggled with the umbrella.
“Let’s talk in your car,” he said.
She agreed, but just as they stood, all hell broke loose.
Two men exploded out of the bushes, guns in hand and shouting orders.
Brand started to lunge forward, but something solid hit him in the back of the head. He dropped to his knees, lost his hold on the flashlight, but maintained consciousness by a thread. The bastards had a strobe light and that, along with the shouting, added to the confusion. He could hear yelling, heard Sahara’s distinctive voice cursing someone and then he heard a gunshot.
His heart went into his throat—until Sahara screamed, “Scott!”
She sounded equal parts panicked and pissed, but not hurt.
Knowing Leese, Miles and Justice were already on their way, Brand shoved to his feet. Through the wildly flashing light, he saw the men racing toward a small motorboat moored on the shore. In another bright flash he saw that one man had an arm locked around Sahara’s throat, dragging her toward it.
“No!” He ran full tilt, stumbling twice because of the knock on the head, falling once onto the wet, loamy ground. He didn’t stay down even when he heard Leese call his name.
The motor revved on the boat and it shot out to the river. Too many bodies filled that small boat, one of them Sahara’s. He didn’t dare shoot, not with her in the mix of the turmoil.
A gunshot sounded from the boat, and a second later he heard a snarled “Bitch!” along with the sounds of a scuffle.
“Sahara!”
“Take care of Scott,” she shouted, the words muffled by the wind and rain.
“Scott’s dead,” someone said with a laugh.
“No,” she screamed. “Please...”
The rest of her words faded away on the dark night.
Brand realized that he stood waist-deep in the frigid water. His heart felt numb, his lungs unable to get enough air.
Something bumped against his leg, and he looked down to see Sahara’s mangled umbrella washing against the shore. His throat tightened painfully.
“Brand,” Leese said urgently. “Come on. We have to go. Enoch has a tracer on her. You know that. We’ll find her.”
Justice added, “But it’s better if we don’t wait.”
Brand slowly turned, mud sucking at his feet. “Her brother?” he asked with ominous undertones.
“Coming around,” Miles said. “He caught a bullet in the arm, just a graze, I think, but apparently he hit his head when he went down. I guess that’s why the goons thought he was dead, why they left him and took her instead.”
Fury carried Brand to where Scott Silver sat on the sodden ground, his back propped against the log, his head hanging forward.
Sahara’s phone, still lit up, lay on the ground beside him. Brand picked it up and put it in his pocket. His heart started to pound in thundering beats.
With one hand, he hauled Scott to his tiptoes and rattled him. “You ignorant fucker! Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“I was careful,” Scott muttered, wincing with the pain in his head and arm. “No one followed me, so they must have followed you.”
Driven by blind rage, Brand cocked back a fist—and Justice captured it. Calm to the point of morbid, he said, “Stop and think, man. If you kill him, Sahara will never forgive you.”
“You heard her,” Miles said with his own measure of anger. “She’s worried about the bastard. For her sake, we have to take care of him.”
“I can take care of myself,” Scott growled.
It required three deep breaths before Brand was able to open his fingers and let Scott drop back flat on his feet. He retrieved his fist from Justice, who gave him an apologetic whack on the back.
“His head, damn it,” Leese said. “Go easy, will you. You saw him get conked.”
“Butt of a gun, it looked like,” Miles said. “Sorry we didn’t get here quick enough.”
“I’m fine,” Brand lied...and immediately thought of how Sahara had said the same, how she’d stubbornly insisted it was so. Despite her denials, she was still hurt, and now unscrupulous bastards had her again. “After I get her back,” Brand told Scott, “I plan to finish this.”
“Suit yourself.” Scott clenched a hand around his bleeding arm. “But we have to move now.” As if he thought he could take charge of the situation, he started for the car, saying, “Tell me who has the tracer on her. How well do you know him? And how many cars did you bring? Jesus, it’s no wonder you were—”
He squawked when Justice and Miles each grabbed one of his arms and practically threw him into the back of the SUV. Miles climbed in behind him. Brand followed.
Justice got in the front passenger seat and Leese got behind the wheel.
“What the hell is this?” Scott demanded, looking a little wary when Brand turned on the flashlight.
“Take off your coat.” He located the first aid kit and opened it. For Sahara, he’d keep her asshole brother alive—for now.
“I don’t need—”
Miles said, “No one gives a shit what you need. We’re doing this for Sahara, so take off the fucking coat.”
From the front, Leese said, “I’m calling Enoch now, so keep it down.”
Silently, Scott struggled out of his coat. “I know Enoch. He has the tracer?”
No one replied, and no one moved to help him with his coat, but as he eased his arm from the sleeve, Brand saw the blood everywhere and quietly cursed.
Enoch answered on the first ring. “Everything okay?”
Leese said, “They got her, Enoch. We need to know which way to go.”
“Oh God.” Worry sharpened his voice. “Oh Jesus.”
“Stop praying and give us directions,” Justice ordered.
“I’m on it, I’m on it. Let me see...” The seconds ticked by.
Needing to occupy himself, Brand got out cleaning swabs, gauze pads and tape. His eyes burned and his guts churned.
She had to be okay. He had to have a chance to tell her how much she meant to him. She was...everything.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
If they touched her, if they hurt her, he’d—
“Okay,” Enoch said, breathing hard. “They’re on 71 heading toward 75. How long before you can be on the highway?”
“They crossed the river in a boat, so they have the jump on us. Maybe fifteen minutes or so, given traffic—once I reach the actual roadway.”
Justice glanced over the seat. “Hold on. It’ll be bumpy for a bit.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Miles said.
Leese drove fast over the rough terrain, anxious to get them on solid ground. Every second felt like an hour.
“Take off the shirt,” Miles said quietly.
Solemn, Scott did as directed.
“How bad is your head?”
“Mild concussion, probably,” Scott said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Brand glanced up as he scooted closer to Sahara’s brother. “I’ll live. Let’s just concentrate on getting to her.”