“Looking for this?” Stephen yelled. He pointed Lance’s own gun at him. Stephen must have taken it while he was trying to drown him.

Lance didn’t waste time talking. He dove sideways and swam for the bottom. He flinched at the muffled sound of a gunshot and waited for the pain, hoping the shot hit him in the vest. A few seconds passed, and he felt nothing.

Stephen had missed.

Lance eased to the surface. Holgersen was turning in circles, the gun aimed out over the water. Another shot rang out. But Stephen was facing away from Lance and shooting in the wrong direction. Lance slipped underwater and swam toward him. He could see nothing but mud and murkiness. Three strokes later, his hand struck fabric.

Lance wrapped his arms around both of Stephen’s legs and stood, lifting him out of the water. He twisted and slammed Stephen into the water on his back. The gun went flying and landed with a splash. Stephen thrashed as Lance held him underwater. Lance lost his grip, and Stephen squirmed out from under Lance’s hands and started swimming.

Oh, no you don’t.

Lance was not letting him get away. He jumped on Stephen’s back. Sliding one arm under his chin, Lance locked him in a rear naked choke. He squeezed his elbows together, cutting off the blood supply to Stephen’s head.

Seconds later, Holgersen went limp.

Chapter Forty-Four

A gunshot boomed over the lake. Sharp stood slowly, his eyes searching the darkness. Lance had to be all right. He had to be.

Sharp had been so focused on finding Olivia that he had left Lance to fight Holgersen alone. Who knew what kind of weapons a survivalist would have on his person?

A few very long minutes later, a man walked out of the lake, dragging another body by the foot through the shallow water.

Who is it?

Moonlight fell on Lance’s face. “Bastard tried to shoot me with my own gun.”

Air hissed out of Sharp’s lungs.

“Do you have zip ties on you?” Lance asked, patting his pockets. “Mine are missing, and he’ll be awake in a minute or two.”

“You didn’t kill him.” Sharp pulled a bunch of plastic ties out of the leg pocket of his wet cargo pants. He handed them to Lance.

“Nope. But I punched him in the face a few times. He might have a concussion. His nose is probably broken too.” Lance retreated to the water’s edge to bind Stephen’s hands behind his back. Then he dragged him farther up the bank, zip-tied his ankles, and attached them to his bound wrists, putting him in a backward C position.

Holgersen’s eyes were closed, and his face was a bloody mess. But he was breathing.

Lance dropped to the ground next to Sharp. “How is Olivia?”

“Alive.” Sharp turned back to her. Her eyes fluttered open and closed. “Olivia? Can you hear me?”

Shivering hard, she nodded and said one word in a breathy, weak voice. “Asthma.”

“We’re going to get you help.” He touched her shoulder, then turned toward Lance. “I drowned my phone. Do you have yours?”

“No. Mine is waterlogged too. I texted Morgan before this went south.” Lance climbed to his feet. “But I don’t know if she got the message or responded. I’ll see if I can find a phone or run down the road to Morgan.”

It had taken Sharp and Lance forty-five minutes to hike through the booby-trapped woods to the lake, but the private driveway would be much faster.

“Look out for booby traps,” Sharp warned.

Lance turned toward the shed. “Let me check for a phone.”

Sharp rubbed Olivia’s shoulder. “Hang on for a while longer.”

Focused on her breathing, she barely nodded.

There wasn’t much Sharp could do without any first aid supplies. He didn’t even have a blanket. His own clothes were soaking wet or he’d give them to her. He rubbed her arms.

“It’s going to be all right,” he soothed. “Just take one breath at a time.”

But damn if she didn’t sound worse.

Lance emerged from the shed. “Just fishing equipment in there. I’ll be back. Sit tight.”

“Hold on,” a female voice called out. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Who the hell—Sharp turned and froze, fresh dread gathering in his gut.

A tall woman with a long ponytail stood ten feet away. She held a pistol like she knew how to handle it.

“Who are you?” Sharp asked, but he could already guess she was Stephen’s sister. He supposed they were working together after all.

“Shut up and put your hands up,” she said in a clipped voice.

“Sharp, meet Kim Holgersen”—Lance raised his hands—“Olivia’s literary agent.”

“I said shut up.” Kim shifted her position so the gun also covered Lance. “Get those hands higher.”

Sharp debated rushing her. He was wearing body armor. So was Lance. But Olivia was vulnerable if Kim started shooting. He moved in front of Olivia.

“Isn’t that sweet? You’re going to shield her with your body.” Kim’s voice dripped with disgust as she aimed at Olivia. “Both of you, toss your guns in the lake.”

“Mine is already in the lake,” Lance said, wiggling his empty hands in front of his face.

Sharp reached for his gun.

Kim stopped him. “Use your left hand.”

Sharp pulled his weapon from its holster. With two fingers, he lobbed his gun into the shallow water at the edge of the lake. “Why are you doing this?”

“Confessions are stupid. Shut up.” Kim turned to Lance. “Release my brother.”

Lance walked to Stephen. Without a knife, he had to unlock the teeth to remove the zip ties. Stephen groaned and rolled onto his back.

“Get up, Stephen,” Kim said. “Go get the van.”

Stephen turned over onto his knees. “What are you going to do?” His voice was thick and slow. He wiped what Sharp assumed was blood from his face.

“Plan B.” Kim blew out a hard breath. “Kill them all and dispose of their bodies far away from here. No one will ever link us to the murders.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Lance turned his hand so Kim couldn’t see the rock he’d picked up from the beach when he had released her brother. At some point, she had to lose her concentration. She intended to kill them all. He had nothing to lose by trying.

Had Morgan received his text? Had she called the police?

He couldn’t depend on help arriving. He had to stop Kim and her brother. He was grateful Morgan wasn’t here, about to be shot.

Stephen stumbled up the slope onto a trail that led into the woods. Lance had taken off his NVGs to go into the water, but the moon provided enough light on the beach for him to watch Stephen’s form disappear into the woods. The buildings couldn’t have been far from the water because a few minutes later, a white utility van appeared from around a bunch of trees. Stephen drove the vehicle onto the beach and stopped next to his sister. He stepped out of the vehicle. When he turned, the moon lit his face, which looked like raw meat. One eye was swollen almost shut. His nose had ballooned, and drying blood coated his chin. He was moving slowly, as if he didn’t have much fight left in him. Had Lance broken one of his ribs too? He hoped so.