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EUGENIE HEARD THE gunshots and glanced up toward the house. The mist was fast beginning to obscure vision beyond a few feet. Kate would need to quit firing soon before she hit someone she shouldn’t.
Jake had two guys coming at him and one launched on top of him, trying to scupper his attempt to get into the guardhouse and open the gate.
Crack.
The guy grunted, gripped his shoulder, and rolled off Jake.
Good shooting from the kid.
Eugenie pulled her knife and shoulder barged attacker number two. Couldn’t see the gate now but she could hear the cops. Not a nice feeling being so close to them.
The guy got up. Didn’t recognise him and she showed him her nice big knife and the grin it always gave her. The guy turned and bolted. Poor thing ran toward the lake though. Let’s hope he couldn’t swim.
Attacker number one rolled onto his side and pushed himself to his feet. Jake launched at him but the guy had a pistol so she pulled hers and fired.
Bam.
Let’s hope he didn’t need that leg for anything.
The guy dropped. Jake spun around. Then blew out a breath.
“Don’t just soak me in, Darl. Let the cops in.” She thumbed over her shoulder. Cops were getting impatient. That was the trouble with them, all flashing lights and noise and wanting to handcuff her. Only she handcuffed people.
Jake shot a wonky grin back her way and sprinted into the gatehouse.
Eugenie gripped Attacker One by his scruff and dragged him in the direction of the conference centre. “Here’s the deal: if you tell me who sent you in here and where you got in, I might not gut you for shark bait; if you lie, even once, I’ll gut you but not before I’ve chopped some valuable equipment from you, clear?”
His eyes widened and he nodded.
“Who sent you in?”
“Bright . . . and um . . . this guy whose always with him . . . don’t know his name but he has this huge scar on his hand.” Attacker One coward. “Balding . . . weird.”
“What type of scar?” Her stomach was churning. Sounded familiar.
“A huge one, like a gouge . . . like he nearly got his hand cut off or something.” Attacker One covered his head.
Cops were in through the gate. She dragged her helpful friend further along.
“Where’d you get in, mate?” She yanked him close.
“Forest, gun club. There’s a gate leading out into the forest.” He held up his hands.
“He waiting for you?” She strode along at speed so his feet dragged along.
“Yeah. He wants to give the guy with the scar a heads up if we see some chick with white hair or the cops get in.” He glanced at the trees coming into view. “I gave you what you asked for . . . you said . . .”
“I did.” She shoved him to the tree and smashed her fist into his face. He crumpled, out cold, to the ground. “See, no knife.” She ducked in through the gun club door and out into the forest. Mist was thicker here.
“Kev, that you?” Bright called out.
She circled him as Bright, with a rifle, waited by a car.
“Kev?” He glanced around.
She sneaked up on top of the 4x4 and onto the bonnet he was leaning against. She raised her blade ready. Tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned. Looked at her, the knife.
“Hi there.”
He screamed and she laughed. There went Henry’s spotter.