Sam nodded somberly.
“The sheriffs were landing about the time we arrived,” Jason said. “They’re using the dock by the lodge as a staging point.”
“We?”
“J.J. Russell is with me.”
Sam’s brows shot up. He opened his mouth, but then staggered back. Jason only then registered that loud, terrifying bang, which seemed to echo around the stone turrets and towers. Blindly, Sam reached for the wall behind him, dropping his weapon. His other hand went to his forehead, coming away covered in blood. He sat down heavily on the low wall and slowly, slowly sagged backwards.
Jason’s heart stopped. He couldn’t seem to make sense of what he was seeing. He wheeled, bringing his weapon up and firing, as Eric Greenleaf strode down the terrace toward him, also firing. His shot went wide.
Jason’s shot grazed Greenleaf across the ribs, but didn’t seem to stop him at all. Greenleaf shot again, and for the second time missed Jason.
Everything was happening so fast. Too fast to process. And yet, weirdly, it felt like slow motion. It was like an alternate reality. There was no conscious thought. Jason could only rely on training and instinct.
“FBI, halt.” Russell was coming up on Greenleaf from behind. He fired, and he must have hit Greenleaf, because Greenleaf jerked and stopped. But maybe it was a glancing shot, or maybe Greenleaf was pumped up on adrenaline and chemical substances. He whirled, firing at Russell, who dived for cover.
There were more voices. More shots. More people. It was chaos. The air was sharp with the smell of gun smoke and approaching rain. Birds darted in and out of the clock tower, crying their alarm.
Jason spared a quick look back at Sam, and saw to his horror that Sam had gone over the wall. Over the wall and into the water.
All thought seemed to stop there. Jason leveled his pistol and this time shot Greenleaf squarely in the chest. It didn’t faze him.
He’s wearing a goddamned vest.
Greenleaf pointed his rifle at Jason again. Jason had two options. He went over the wall after Sam. Greenleaf’s shot just missed his ear. He heard it whine past, felt the burn of it against his cheek, and then he was tumbling through the sky, falling through the skeleton fingertips of dead trees. He saw blue water rushing toward him.
How the hell far? More than twenty feet? Shit. Jason did his best to straighten into vertical position, closed his eyes, squeezed his feet together, clenched his buttocks and crossed his hands across his crotch. He hit the water like an arrow slicing through, remembering belatedly to breathe out. The cold was a shock, and seemed to freeze his lungs for an instant. He spread his arms and legs wide to slow his descent. His bulky jacket made his movements difficult, slow.
Thank God for his lifeguard training. Thank God for a lifetime spent in the water.
He opened his eyes and saw a streak of silver carve a trail through the water in front of him—and then another.
Greenleaf was firing into the water.
That bastard just didn’t give up.
Where the hell was Sam? Had he ended up in the trees or landed in the water? Jason peered through the murky water and another stream of silver bubbled past his nose.
Russell, will you please kill that bastard?
His lungs were starting to burn with the need to breathe. He looked this way and that, feeling something close to panic with each passing second.
Where is he?
His heart thudded in his ears. There. A few yards ahead of him. Something pale and bulky drifting slowly down through the layers of water. Jason’s heart jumped in hopeful recognition. With a burst of renewed energy, he kicked toward the object, and saw with relief that it was Sam.
He couldn’t see Sam’s face. His pale hair drifted slowly, languidly like sea grass. His fingers were lax, motionless.
Jason wrapped an arm across Sam’s chest—these jackets were going to drown them both—and began a clumsy sidestroke to the surface. Sam was a heavy and helpless weight, and Jason knew there was a very good chance they were both going to drown.
He hung on with all his strength and kept swimming, refusing to breathe. Every cell in his body was screaming for oxygen. His vision darkened on the outer edges. No more bullets churning past, so that was the good news.
Jason looked up, saw daylight overhead and clawed for it with his free hand. He kicked hard, scooped water, stretched… His head broke surface and
he gulped in enormous sweet lungfuls of air.
Gasping, treading water, he looked around to see how far they had drifted from the point. Not that far, but getting ashore would be tricky.