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to the garage.”

Of course. Why hadn’t Will thought of that? Damon Masters would have more than a helicopter for his transportation. Will kept the sarcasm to himself. And where was that Camaro? In the garage?

There was no telling what—or who—else they’d find in the garage. Will fingered the knife, pulled it from his pocket. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Sylvie led him around to the side of the house with its innumerable overhangs, and wait...a waterfall? Really? Water trickled over stones, pouring from a peaceful pond, and the brook journeyed to meet the river, he assumed.

Will wasn’t sure this was the answer. “Where’s the garage, Sylvie? Maybe we should hike out, after all. Get to the nearest town and get help.”

What he wouldn’t give to have a small plane sitting on an airstrip right over there to the left of that helipad.

The helicopter!

A man—Diverman—stepped from behind a dark corner and grabbed Sylvie. She screamed. Will started to lunge but the man instantly pressed his gun at her temple. “You’ve caused me more trouble than this ever should have been.”

“Let her go.” Adrenaline pumped through Will, blurring his vision with rage.

Diverman laughed. “I don’t think so. You’re not slipping out of my hands this time.”

“Who...who hired you?” Sylvie tried to sound strong and unafraid, but her words crackled with fear. “Damon?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You’re not going to kill me. You can’t kill me here.”

“You’re wrong about that. I can kill you here. Right here and now and nobody would ever find you. Same as they haven’t found your mother. I’ll make sure you join her since I have to go back there anyway, to search for that thumb drive. All because you couldn’t just let her rest in peace.”

Will couldn’t lunge at Diverman or he would make good on his word. By the look in his eyes as they took Will in, the man was ready to kill, and he would start with Will. Get him out of the way. While he shot Will, that might be Sylvie’s chance to escape, but Will needed to harm him, to maim him so she’d have a fighting chance of getting away.

He’d dropped the brick long ago, but he couldn’t have thrown it and made a difference. But the knife...the knife was made for moments like these.

In an instant, the man turned the weapon on Will, who flicked the knife in a straight throw, piercing Diverman’s gun hand. Screams erupted from both Sylvie and Diverman, as pain burned Will’s shoulder. The man grappled for his weapon with his other hand, and Sylvie rushed to Will. He wasn’t in a position to fight Diverman, who still had a gun, but at least his aim would be off, his left hand obviously unwieldy at best.

“Come on!” Will grabbed Sylvie and they sprinted away from the house and garage and across the lawn.

“Are you okay, Will? He shot you!”

“No time to worry about that now. Just a scratch.”

“But the garage is back that way.”

“Right, and so is Diverman. I have a better idea.” Breathing hard now, he dragged her to the helipad.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Will wouldn’t stop running until he made it to the helicopter. But Sylvie dug in her feet, and that brought Will to a halt. He turned. “What are you doing? We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t steal the helicopter. What if he needs it?”

Had she lost her mind? “We’re not stealing it, we’re borrowing it. It belongs to your stepfather, remember? We were already planning to take one of his cars—this isn’t that much worse. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“What about the pilot? We could ask him to fly us out?” Her shoulders drooped. “You’re right. He could be involved.”

“Diverman is coming, Sylvie. No time.”

She didn’t trust Will to fly with his injury. That was understandable. Will climbed in but noticed Sylvie hadn’t followed suit. He jumped out and ran around to her side. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get out of here before we miss our chance. You hate to fly. I haven’t forgotten, but we have no choice.” Will rubbed her shoulders. “Come on, Sylvie. You promised me you would fly again. This is the time to do it.”

She squinted at him. “You sure you can fly this thing?”

“As good of a bush pilot as I am, I’m even better in a helicopter.” An exaggeration, but desperate times...

Will spotted a figure in the shadows running toward them from the house. “I think our time is up. Get in.”

After he made sure Sylvie was in the helicopter, Will ran around and climbed inside. Glanced at the console, taking it in quickly. He didn’t have time to go through a flight checklist. It was now or never, and he’d rather take his chance that the helicopter was already prepped. At least the engine was still warm.

Once they were in the air, Will glanced down to see the man running after them, clenching his hand beneath his arm, and firing his weapon off—way off. Will could almost smile at that, but he needed to focus on getting them out of range. He didn’t want to risk a random bullet catching them. He and Sylvie had theorized that her death was supposed to look like an accident, especially if it were to happen at her stepfather’s house. So much for theories. Diverman had become desperate to fulfill his deadly contract or else.

Will had been through this twice now—someone shooting at him while he was airborne. Shooting at Sylvie, rather, and that was two times too many. He was ready to resolve this, but how? Where to go next?

“Are you okay? He shot you.”

“The bullet grazed me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry that I hesitated. I know that could have cost our lives. It’s just that... I never told you why I hate to fly. You never asked. You probably assumed it was just a phobia, but there’s more to it.”

“I’m listening.”

“I attended a private school in Seattle, growing up.

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