“Know this.” Sharp’s voice went harsh. “If that knife touches her again, I will shoot you. From this distance, I won’t miss. If she gets hurt, you die.”
Stephen hesitated. “I guess this is a stalemate.”
“Guess so.” Sharp’s voice was cool. But Lance could hear Olivia wheezing from six feet away.
Stephen glanced sideways. Before Lance could move, Stephen flung himself and Olivia off the dock. They hit the water with a splash. Lance lunged across the dock and looked over the edge, searching for Olivia.
Ripples on the dark surface of the water sparkled in the moonlight. He saw no heads, just bubbles. Sharp rushed down the dock toward him.
Splashing drew his attention to the right. Lance jumped off the dock toward the sound, hoping he had heard Olivia and not Stephen.
Chapter Forty-One
Morgan held the phone to her ear. Her connection with 911 was still open. Lance and Sharp had found Olivia, but they needed help.
“Olivia Cruz has been found. She was kidnapped and held here.” Morgan gave the dispatcher the address. “I don’t know what condition she’s in. Please send an ambulance.”
“There’s a unit en route. ETA is twelve minutes,” the dispatcher said.
“There are two former SFPD officers on-site. Both are armed.” Morgan didn’t want the Redhaven police to shoot Lance or Sharp.
“Yes, ma’am.” The dispatcher asked, “Can you please stay on the line?”
Considering how far out in the country the camp was located, twelve minutes wasn’t a bad response time. But Lance had texted that they’d found Olivia and were in trouble. That was all Morgan knew.
What kind of trouble?
Stephen had kidnapped Olivia. He was clearly capable of doing terrible things. What was happening to Lance right now?
She paced the grass. The sound of an engine brought her gaze to the road. She peered out from behind an evergreen. Headlights approached. She asked the dispatcher, “Do you have another unit closer? Someone is here.”
“No, ma’am. The closest unit is en route. ETA is eleven minutes. Please stay on the line. It’ll help if you flag down the officer when he arrives.”
The approaching vehicle slowed and turned into the camp. The sleek BMW was definitely not a cop car. Morgan stayed hidden.
“Advise the responding officers there could be multiple suspects,” Morgan said to the dispatcher.
If it wasn’t a law enforcement officer turning into Stephen Holgersen’s driveway, then who could it be? Was Stephen Holgersen coming home from somewhere? No. Stephen drove a white van.
A client? A buddy? His sister?
She sent Lance a text letting him know a car had turned into the entrance but the police wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes, at least. She didn’t want him to be surprised.
After they arrived, the police would have to drive back to the lake. They might wait for backup before they went in to confront multiple armed people.
Morgan climbed into the Jeep, locked the doors, and kept her eyes on the entrance to the camp.
She hated waiting.
Chapter Forty-Two
Sharp slid to a stop at the end of the dock and shone his flashlight at the water. “Olivia! Lance!”
Something splashed to the right. Sharp turned the beam and spotted Lance and Holgersen fighting in the shallows. Lance punched Holgersen in the face. Holgersen staggered backward. Sharp didn’t have a clear shot at Holgersen. He’d have to leave him to Lance.
Where is Olivia?
Sharp saw a trail of bubbles on the surface. He secured his handgun in its holster and jumped into the lake. The cold water closed over his head. He swam for the bottom, feeling in the murky darkness for her body. His hands swept through empty water.
Something long and silky passed through his fingers. Her hair? He grabbed for it, only to come up with a handful of wet weeds. Disappointment flashed through him. At that very moment, she was drowning. If he didn’t find her in the next minute or two, she would die. His lungs screamed for oxygen, and he kicked upward.
Sharp surfaced, and he gasped for air. “Olivia!”
Panic stirred inside him. How much longer could she survive underwater? He saw more bubbles a few feet away, took in a breath of air, and dove under again. His hand brushed clothing. Olivia! He kicked forward and swam into an arm. Grabbing it, he pulled her to the surface. Was she alive? Once his head was above the water, he flipped Olivia onto her back and towed her to the shore. When the water was midthigh, he scooped her into his arms and carried her through the weeds and mud to the lakeshore. He staggered onto the beach and gently set her down.
“Please.” He put a hand on her chest. Was it moving? She hadn’t been underwater for more than a minute or two. “You can do it, Liv.”
Nothing. She wasn’t breathing.
He pinched her nostrils, put his mouth over hers, and gave her two rescue breaths. Then he started chest compressions. He counted to himself, then pinched her nostrils and breathed into her mouth twice more.
She stirred and sputtered, and Sharp’s heart jump-started. He turned her on her side so the water could drain from her mouth. She coughed hard, her body heaving with the effort. When the spasm had passed, she inhaled with a whistling sound. He put two fingers to her wrist. Her pulse scrambled under his fingertips.
His belly churned with relief. Light-headed with it, he leaned down and hugged her for a few seconds. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Welcome back.”
She rolled to her back. Her eyes flew open desperately wide. But she wasn’t safe yet. Her chest rattled, and she couldn’t get enough air to answer him.
Sharp pulled his phone from his pocket to call for an ambulance, but it had been submerged in the lake and wouldn’t turn on. Olivia was alive, but she struggled for every breath. She needed a hospital.
He looked for Lance. Shit! Where was he?
“Lance!” he shouted.
No one answered.
Chapter Forty-Three
Waist-deep in water, Lance hugged his head to block the punch. Holgersen’s hook landed on his biceps. Holgersen shifted his stance and came at him with an uppercut. Lance stepped sideways to avoid the blow. Countering, he fired a jab, catching Stephen in the jaw, and followed up with a cross that snapped his head back. Blood spurted from his nose, and his hands went reflexively to his face.
Shoving Stephen’s chest with both hands, Lance knocked him backward and reached for his Glock.
They were fairly well matched in size, and Holgersen had clearly trained in hand-to-hand combat. But Lance had no interest in a fair fight. Fighting honorably was bullshit. The only thing that mattered was not dying.
Before he could draw his weapon, Stephen dove at Lance. The high water slowed Lance’s movements. Stephen tackled him around the waist. They went under together, rolling in three feet of water like a crocodile with fresh prey in its mouth.
Water blinded Lance, and he swallowed a mouthful of muddy lake. Choking, he raised his head above the water and sucked in a lungful of air. Stephen twisted, grabbed Lance by the neck, and shoved him underwater again.
Lance held his breath and floundered. His hands went to his throat, and he pulled at Stephen’s fingers. Getting hold of just one, he bent it backward until it snapped. The grip on his neck released. Lance pushed out of the water. Stephen staggered backward. His left hand fell awkwardly at his side. One finger bent at an obscene angle, rendering it useless.
Stalking forward, Lance reached for his gun again. But his hand hit an empty holster.
“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 sur
face. 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.
If Lance could take Kim and her gun out of the picture, Sharp would be able to handle the injured Stephen. Lance tightened his grip around the rock. The gun in her hands was a semiautomatic. If he missed, she could shoot them all in a couple of seconds.
Stephen opened the cargo doors of the van.
Kim gestured toward Sharp. “Now pick her up and put her in the van.”
“No.” Sharp planted his body-armor-clad self in front of Olivia. “You just said you were going to kill us all. I’m not going to make it easier for you.”
With her gaze locked on Sharp, Kim lifted the gun and looked down the sight. “Are you volunteering to go first?”
Sharp didn’t move. Lance whipped the rock at Kim with a vicious overhand. He was barely ten feet away. It struck her on the side of the face. Her head snapped around. She stumbled sideways, bobbling the gun. Lance lunged at her. Stephen tried to block him, but Lance knocked him aside with his shoulder and kicked him in the balls. Stephen hit the dirt like a sandbag.
Lance kept moving. Five feet. He almost had her.
A hand grabbed his ankle. He went down on his face in the dirt. Looking back, Lance saw Stephen, still lying on the ground and holding his boot with b
oth hands. Lance kicked him in the face. “Let go!”
Fresh blood spurted. Stephen groaned and went limp.
Lance scrambled to one knee. Kim whipped the handgun around and pointed it at him. He rolled, trying to get out of the path of her aim, but there was no close cover.
A gunshot rang out over the woods. Lance froze. To his shock, so did Kim. She hadn’t fired the shot. Who had?
“Stop!”
Lance knew that voice. They all turned their heads. Morgan stood about eight feet behind Kim, her own gun leveled at the literary agent’s body. Relief, pride, and love all surged through his chest. Morgan still had his back, as always, despite the fact that Lance had deliberately removed her from the action.
“Put down the gun, or I will shoot you,” Morgan said.
Kim didn’t move for a few seconds. Was she considering not surrendering? Even if Morgan wasn’t an excellent shot—which she was—Kim would be hard to miss at that range. Was Kim suicidal? Morgan had once shot a man in a similar situation. She was not a violent woman, unless someone she loved was threatened.
But Kim was desperate. She dropped to the ground and swung the gun 180 degrees—pointing it right back at Morgan.
Two shots rang out, almost simultaneously.
Morgan stumbled backward. Her hand went to her ribs. She’d been shot.
No!
His gaze swung back to Kim. She was scrambling to her feet and stumbling toward the woods. Her gun lay on the ground. Morgan missed?
“Kim!” Stephen shouted in a weak voice.
But Kim didn’t even look back at her brother’s pathetic call.
Ignoring Kim, Lance refocused on Morgan. She was holding her side and gasping. Was she bleeding? Panicking, he surged to his feet and started toward her. But she recovered before he could reach her. Then she did what he least expected: she sprinted right past him faster than he thought she could run.
“I’ve got Stephen!” Sharp yelled, heading for Kim’s brother and collecting Kim’s gun on the way.
Shocked, Lance lost a second before starting after Morgan. Kim had slowed, and Morgan caught her in a few strides. She reached forward and shoved Kim’s shoulder. The agent tipped forward and face-planted, sliding in the weeds. Morgan was on her in a second, landing hard, then planting a knee in the agent’s lower back.
Save Your Breath Page 26