"And if they run or do something stupid before he gets here?"
"Then we confront and have a conversation about trespassing."
She cut him a look. "Not a great plan."
"Best I've got on short notice."
In the moat, the water rippled and gently lapped against the grass.
Trent knew the sound before he saw her—the distinctive movement of Dolly cutting through the water, twelve feet of prehistoric murder gliding toward the disturbance at the bank. She'd been living on his land for thirty years after being injured. But she knew the difference between food and not-food, between threat and nuisance.
Tonight, she seemed undecided.
One of the figures noticed the ripple and swung his flashlight toward the water. The beam caught Dolly's eyes, two orange-red embers floating just above the surface, fixed on the strangers with the patient hunger of fifty million years of evolution.
"Jesus Christ," one of them said loudly.
The other figure grabbed his arm. “I wasn’t told there would be so many alligators.”
“It’s the Everglades. Did you think there’d be bunnies back here?” the other man said.
"That thing's looking at me."
"Then stop looking back. Move."
They continued on the far side of the property, where the tree line thickened and the darkness deepened. Their flashlights danced in the dark. Trent squinted, trying to get a better look at what they were doing with that damn bag, but the night swallowed them.
“I’m losing sight of them. We need to shift position,” Trent said.
“Alright.” She crawled from behind the tree—breaking from cover, cutting a sharp angle toward the water. Trent quickly followed.
He and Dove moved fast through the underbrush. Her years of training were evident in how she placed her feet and kept low.
The figures were forty yards ahead now, heading for the tree line that angled toward the narrow channel that looped through the back edge of the property and into the freshwater table.
He shifted his gaze toward the dock. A small boat was tied at the end. Most people didn't dare come down Mallor's Twist, a reservoir of marsh and reptile.
Dove rushed ahead, closing the gap.
All of a sudden, the men stopped moving and leaned over the waterline.
Trent and Dove froze for a moment, crouching down, holding position.
“What the hell are they doing?” Dove whispered.
“No clue.” Trent squinted and adjusted to the darkness, but all he saw were shadows.
“Jesus, do you see all those eyes in the water?” one of the men asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get the fuck out of here. We did our job, now let's go collect that money before we die.”
Both men turned and headed back toward the old dock, which was right between them and Trent and Dove.
“I guess we’re going into confrontation mode,” Dove whispered. "Stop," she shouted as she stood, legs wide, weapon raised. "Aegis Network. Armed. Don't move."
The figures paused mid-step.
For a frozen heartbeat, everyone stood still—Dove with her gun pointed at the interlopers, Trent coming up behind her with his weapon at the ready, the two strangers caught in the open with the marsh and the moat at their backs. Their boat was tied to the dock in front of them, forty paces away.
