“The key to the boat is on the wall by the door,” Dirk said. “If they’ve got the lower road covered, head for the lake, take her out that way.”
A barrage of shots tore through the front door. These guys weren’t waiting. Dirk positioned himself off to one side and blasted back in their direction, cutting the door nearly in half. “Go!” The fire chewed through the ceiling and a chunk of it fell into the hallway.
“Time to move.” Glock drawn, Ethan grabbed the boat key off the wall, opened the door into the garage, dodged a shot that splintered the jamb, and fired, taking down a man near the side door. He spotted another guy and fired. The man grabbed his bloody leg and jerked back into the cover of the bushes.
Ethan shoved his pistol back into his shoulder holster and ran for the bike, Val close behind him. Grabbing the helmet sitting on the seat, he turned and shoved it on Val’s head, climbed on and turned the key in the ignition, felt her swing on behind him, felt her arms lock around his waist.
“Hang on!” As they shot through the open side door and headed downhill along the narrow dirt path toward the lake, he caught a glimpse of the barrel of Dirk’s AR-15 above them as he fired a short burst out the window, then fired again. The engine roared as Ethan raced toward the lower road, praying Dirk would escape the house without getting killed.
Or burned up in the fire that was fast collapsing the roof.
A black SUV with dark-tinted windows, a drug dealer’s cliché, sat on the lower road, its engine running.
“It’s them!” Val shouted. Ethan couldn’t believe it when she pulled the .45 out of his waistband behind his back, flipped off the safety, and fired two shots through the windshield. Glass exploded. The car swerved right, then jerked left, then swung right again.
“Hold on!” Ethan gunned the engine and the bike lunged across the road, got a little air and landed on the path on the opposite side. He could feel Val’s arms lock back around him, the gun still in her hand, the barrel pointed at the ground between his legs. He hoped like hell she didn’t accidentally pull the trigger.
He almost smiled. Stupid damn time to realize he wanted more kids.
The SUV tore off down the road, tires squealing. They’d be turning at the end of the lane where the road curved down to the lake.
Ethan planned to get there first.
From the bottom of the trail, he could see the dock stretching into the water. Dirk must have been planning to use the boat because the cover was off. The bike hit a patch of mud and spun sideways. Ethan righted it and kept going. He shot onto the wooden dock and slid to a halt. Shoved the kickstand down with his boot, and the two of them leaped off and ran toward the bright orange twin-engine Scarab.
The jet boat roared to life. Ethan shoved the accelerator forward and the boat jumped out of its berth as if it had been caged too long. The Scarab could really haul ass.
By the time the big SUV pulled up and men began pouring out, taking up firing positions along the dock, the boat was way out in the lake, out of range.
Ethan kept the Scarab headed north. There was a roadhouse on the water a few miles away, where he and Dirk always stopped for a beer after a day of fishing. There was a dock there where he could tie up. Mulkey’s Tavern was a locals’ joint, hidden away in a cove, not easy to spot; it was a long way around to get there by car.
Tucker Mulkey, the owner, was a Vietnam vet, a tough old bastard, and a friend. Ethan could count on Tuck to keep Val safe while he went back to help Dirk and Pete.
Mulkey’s drew near, an old wooden building up on the bank, picnic tables outside and a view of the lake from inside the rustic interior. With the weather so chilly and wet, no one was sitting outside.
Ethan pulled up at the dock, took the pistol Val still clutched in her hand, and stuffed it back into his waistband behind his back. “We need to hurry.” With his hand at her waist, both of them started jogging along the walkway.
Ethan prayed Dirk had gotten out safely. Prayed the cops and the EMTs were there by now, taking care of Pete, prayed he had gotten medical attention in time. Whatever had happened, he had to go back and find out.
He clenched his jaw as he hurried toward the roadhouse, hoping like hell Mulkey was there, as he usually was.
The best sight he could have seen was Luke striding toward them down the hill.
Standing on the shore at the end of the dock, Val trembled in the misty cold, her arms wrapped around her.
“How’d you know where to find us?” Ethan asked his brother.
“I was in the office when Val called Sadie, said you were taking fire. I knew you’d bail. I figured you’d wind up here. I thought you might have bogies on your tail.”
Ethan’s gaze swung to Val.
“After I called nine-one-one, I phoned Sadie. She always seems to get things done.”
His mouth edged up; then he thought of Dirk and Pete and his mood darkened. “I’ve got to get back. Dirk’s still there and Pete’s been shot. You stay with Val.”
She looked up to see an older, silver-haired man striding purposefully down the hill, a big black pistol holstered at his waist.
“Tuck’s going to look after Val,” Luke said. “We need to get back there before it’s too late.”
