Bishop snatched one of the life vests from the bottom of the canoe and turned around to put it on Harper. She wasn’t there. She was twenty feet away, moving at a fast clip through the woods back toward her house.
He swore and threw the vest in the canoe before taking off after her. When he reached her, he used his body to block her way. “Harper, we have to—”
“I can’t,” she whispered harshly. “Don’t you get it? I’ve tried everything to overcome my fear of water. Nothing works. I would rather face that gunman with my bare hands than get into that stupid canoe. Why can’t we just take my car and drive out of here?”
“Keep your voice down,” he reminded her. “We can’t take your car. The gunmen triggered alarms I’d set on your neighbor’s property, which gave us the head start we needed to get out before they saw us. But I’m sure they’ve reached your house by now. Even if we managed to sneak around them without being seen, the moment we start the engine, they’ll be on top of us. I’m wicked accurate with a pistol. But I can’t outshoot an M-16.”
Her eyes widened as his words sank in. “Gunmen? Plural? Just how many did those cameras of yours pick up?”
His jaw tightened. “Five.”
“Oh my God. What do they want? This doesn’t make sense. They can’t get their ransom if they kill me.”
“This may not be about ransom. It could be a domestic terrorist group out to attack the former president’s family, likely in league with the would-be assassin who tried to kill your father this morning. All I know for sure is that people sneaking around in camo with ski masks covering their faces and military-style rifles aren’t interested in a civilized chat. I’m sorry to do this, Harper. I really am. But I don’t have a choice.” He grabbed her, tossed her on his shoulder and took off toward the creek.
Knowing time wasn’t on their side, he didn’t bother with the life jackets. After peeling Harper’s hands from around his neck, he set her in the front of the canoe, the part that was already floating on the water rather than sitting on the bank. It did the job. It kept her from trying to hop out. But the heated glare she gave him as she gripped the sides of the canoe wasn’t something he’d likely recover from any time soon.
He shoved the canoe fully into the water and hopped into the back. Using every ounce of his strength, he quickly paddled them into the middle of the creek to take advantage of the strong current. They had to get around that first curve and out of sight before the gunmen figured out where they’d gone. Every muscle in his body was tense, fully expecting a bullet to come slicing through him at any moment. But they rounded the curve without incident, allowing him to breathe a little easier. He set the paddle down and tore off his suit jacket so he could move his arms more freely. Then he grabbed one of the life jackets. “Harper?”
Her back was ramrod-straight, her arms shaking as she clung to both sides of the canoe.
“Harper, here.” He pitched the jacket. It landed right behind her. “All you have to do is reach down and grab the life jacket. Put your arms through it, with the opening to the front. Click the buckles together and—”
“No.” Her voice sounded strained. If anything, her death grip on the canoe tightened, as evidenced by the mottled look of her hands.
“I’m not even paddling right now. The canoe is floating with the current. I’ll keep it nice and steady, okay? Just pick up the jacket and put it on.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “I know you’re scared. But if you put the vest on, you won’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“I thought your car was on the other side. Why are we in the middle of the river, parallel with the shoreline instead of heading straight for it?”
“We’re still in the creek, not the river. The car’s a little ways down. The road didn’t quite reach your place.”
“How far?” she snapped.
“Not far,” he lied, and started paddling again.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He yanked it out. When he saw Brielle’s number on the screen, a feeling of dread shot through him. She knew he was trying to get Harper to safety. He’d texted her while shepherding Harper across her backyard and into the woods. She wouldn’t call him unless there was a problem.
He put the phone in speaker mode and shoved it in his shirt pocket so he could talk and still paddle. “What’s the sit rep? And keep your voice low.” He didn’t want Harper hearing something that might make her even more terrified.
“Where are you?” Brielle’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Since his phone was encrypted with every bell and whistle Mason’s money could buy, he didn’t worry about someone intercepting the signal and hearing the conversation, so he spoke plainly, without using code words. “Just past the first bend in the creek. What’s your ETA?”
“Dalton and I are already on the property. They were in and out of the house in under a minute. I only know that because of the cameras you set up. We haven’t found an obvious trail yet.”
“Five guys wearing military-style boots. There have to be some prints in the yard.”
“There are, mostly partials, and not that many. They’re keeping to harder ground, leaving as few prints as possible. These guys are really good. If I hadn’t seen the video from your perimeter alarms, and the cameras you put in the house, I’d swear you were wrong about them even being here. There’re no cars, no motorcycles, no four-wheelers. A group of heavily armed men in the middle of nowhere, with no obvious transportation. What’s that tell you, Bishop?”
“They’ve got a boat. They came up the same way I did.”
“That’s our assumption. Dalton’s hoofing it to the creek right now to see if he can spot them anywhere. I’m not far behind. Dang his long legs.”
Gage eyed the woods, looking for signs of pursuit. Even though the current was strong, working with his strokes to move them forward, a sense of impending doom settled over him just as it had this morning when he’d followed the suspicious man through the crowd.
The canoe rounded another wide bend, the shore on each side slipping farther away. “We’re getting close to the French Broad River. My car’s not that much farther after that. Maybe you and Dalton should head back to the house. I don’t like the odds if they stumble across you two alone out there.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got the element of surprise. And no way are we leaving your six until we find these guys. Backup is on the way. Caleb and the new Seeker that Mason just hired, Eli Dupree, are bookin’ it down the highway, not far behind us. You keep heading to the rendezvous point while we handle things from this end.”
“Roger that. I’ll call once we’re on the road.” He ended the call and kept paddling. His deep, long strokes pushed them quickly through the water, but also rocked the canoe from side to side.
Harper definitely noticed.
She was hunched down now, as if trying to lower her center of gravity out of fear that she was going to be tossed from the canoe.
“What’s going on?” she called back to him without turning around. “You’re paddling like you’re trying to win an Olympic race.”
He debated what to tell her. He didn’t want to make her even more afraid.
“Bishop? Please. I may be terrified but I still want to know what’s happening.”
Her calling him Bishop again was like a punch in the gut. She’d always called him Gage. Always. The first day he’d introduced himself to her and told her everyone called him Bishop, she’d taken his hand in hers and said she never would. She liked the name Gage. And given she fully intended them to be friends, she wasn’t about to call him by his last name. Since that moment, it had become a symbol of their bond and the deep friendship they’d eventually formed.
“Bishop?”
He winced. “Brielle and Dalton are trying to find the gunmen. Caleb and Eli will be at your house soon to help.”
“Trying? They don’t know where they are?”
“They’ll find them. Don’t worry.”
She was silent for a long moment. “What’s this rendezvous point you mentioned? Is it the campground where you parked your car?”
“You heard me say that?”
“Yes. What’s the rendezvous point?”
“The campground. It’s not much farther. Maybe ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
He grinned, relieved that she was talking again, even if it was to give him orders. He maneuvered the canoe around a massive tree dipping down into the water, its roots sticking up like a giant land octopus waiting to snare anyone who got too close.
His phone buzzed, indicating a text coming through. He quickly checked the screen then clenched his jaw to keep a litany of curse words from tumbling out. It was from Caleb. He and Eli had checked Carter’s place next door, in case any gunmen were hiding there. He hadn’t found any gunmen. But they’d definitely been there.
Blake Carter was dead.
“Bishop? Is something else wrong?”
“You heard the phone buzz in my pocket?”
“Yes. Who was it?”
“You have superhuman hearing. It was Caleb, letting me know that he and Eli arrived to back up Dalton and Brielle.” He kept his voice as light as possible, not wanting to alarm her any more than she already was. Carter’s murder confirmed beyond a doubt that these men meant business. They were eliminating potential witnesses. It appeared even less likely that their presence could be related to the kidnapper.
The kind of men after them sounded like mercenaries, hired out to the highest bidder. Men like that had no morals, scruples, or loyalties other than to the almighty dollar. Two million dollars was a heck of a lot of money, but not if it was split between the kidnapper and five gunmen. Three-hundred, thirty-thousand a piece, give or take, was hardly enough incentive to justify risking the wrath of the federal government by killing a former president’s daughter. Either the ransom was a diversion and not at all the goal, or the mercenaries were working for someone else entirely for a completely different reason.
Was it possible that a kidnapper was trying to ransom Shane at the same time that someone else was trying to kill both the former president and Harper? It seemed so unlikely as to defy belief. So what the heck was going on?
“Bishop.”
The new level of panic in her tone had him hyperalert. “What is it?”
“That noise. Do you hear it?”
He stopped paddling, letting the canoe drift as he tuned in to the sounds around them. The drip, drip of water off the paddle onto the surface of the creek. A bird of prey’s throaty call as it searched for a late lunch. A rhythmic gritty noise off in the distance. Something man-made.
An engine.
He jerked around. Far off on the horizon, just rounding a curve in the creek, was a small silver boat. It was coming up fast, heading directly for them. The men in the boat wore matching camo. Each one held a rifle.
Gage swore and steered the canoe toward shore. He glanced back. A man in the front of the silver boat raised his rifle and looked through the scope. Bishop scrambled forward, grabbing Harper around the waist.
Her eyes widened with terror as she made a desperate grab for the canoe. “Don’t, Bishop! No!”
A bullet pinged through the metal side, barely missing her.
“Take a deep breath, Harper! Hold your breath!”
She screamed as he yanked her over the side and into the water.