He engaged the starter and watched the Ng rise. At the proper percentage, he brought in fuel with the condition lever. The PT6 spooled with a rising whine, ITT climbing before settling as the engine stabilized into a steady, controlled growl. The vibration came through the floats and into his bones, causing his breath to freeze in his chest.
Christian shut his door. “All right, brother, but you know I’m no pilot.”
“I know.” Ace eased the throttle forward and nudged them away from the dock. The floats skimmed over the water as he taxied toward the center channel.
The river stretched ahead of them, broad and open. Ace pushed the throttle. Sweat slicked his hand, and he wiped it on his damp jeans. The engine roared louder, competing with the angry rain. The floats slapped rhythmically against the surface as speed built, and spray fanned out along both sides. The nose lifted slightly.
“Come on,” Ace muttered. The drag lessened and the slapping turned into a smooth hiss as they gained lift. The floats skimmed once more and then they broke free of the river cleanly, climbing through the rain.
“There,” Christian said.
Ace followed his gaze and locked onto movement upriver. He banked left and dropped their altitude to look closer. An aluminum river sled was already cutting upstream, its jet throwing a rooster tail of white spray behind it as it powered into the current.
He flew closer to see better.
Two men stood in it. Kyle manned the center console, one hand on the throttle, his features unmistakable even through the rain. Peter stood near the stern with his arm extended, a gun aimed straight down.
At May.
Ace’s stomach dropped hard.
She sat on the rear bench seat, soaked, wrists bound in front of her, a bandage wrapped tight around her head, covering her mouth. Even from the air, he could see her struggling with small furious movements as she tried to twist free.
At her feet, sprawled across the aluminum deck, was a body. Dark red streaked toward the scuppers and washed thin in the rain before the river carried it away.
“Jesus,” Christian breathed.
Peter kept the gun trained on her while glancing up at the plane overhead. Kyle shoved the throttle harder, and the boat surged faster into the wide, powerful river. He turned and shouted, his face red.
Stumbling, Peter moved toward Kyle and handed him the gun before taking over the throttle.
Kyle moved back toward May, his steps unsteady in the pitching boat, and pointed the gun at her head.
Rage surged up so hard Ace tasted copper.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Christian warned.
“I won’t,” Ace said, though every instinct screamed to dive. He banked wide instead, circling once to get a better angle. The boat was heading upriver, not down. Toward deeper bends and narrower channels where tree cover would make it harder to track from the air.
“We need to be quick,” Christian said.
“Yes.” Ace dropped lower.
The plane skimmed above the river now, low enough that the prop wash rippled the water beneath them. He wasn’t thinking about fear or the crash anymore. May was the only thing that mattered. “Christian, call Brock. Tell him to get to the next big bend. The one with the old logging dock. Get Dr. Patterson there.”
Christian already had his phone out. “On it.”
Ace lined up ahead of the boat and dipped even lower, forcing Kyle to look up again.
The boat swerved as Peter adjusted course.
May twisted, trying to sit up. Kyle shoved her back down hard. He fired toward them, not coming close.
Ace’s vision tunneled. He pulled the nose up just enough to avoid the treetops and banked again, positioning himself ahead of them. His hands shook and he steadied himself. Thoughts of his crash tried to infiltrate his mind, but he shoved them away. Not now. The river narrowed around the next bend. Sandbars rose pale beneath the surface in places. If Kyle didn’t know the channel well, he’d have to slow. “Secure your belt,” Ace ordered his brother.
Below, Peter was shouting at Kyle now. Peter jerked the tiller, trying to push through the faster current.
May’s head turned upward. For a split second, their eyes met. Ace’s chest tightened so hard it almost hurt. He shoved the throttle forward and dropped even lower, the plane roaring over the river and casting a long shadow across the water.
