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It sounded like a bear. A bear would be better.
Because it was Bobby and he was running, a pistol gripped in his hand.
“Shit,” Dianne hissed. “Hurry, Val. Now.” She yanked the pull cord and the motor coughed, then started. “Get in!”
Val was trying, but the boat was rocking and she kept trying to time her leap. She’d set one foot in the boat when Bobby fired. The bullet caught her arm.
A graze. Only a graze, but it was enough to send her sideways. The boat rocked and she... tumbled.
Her head hit the dock and she slid into the water. But the water smacked her back to alertness and she kicked her way to the surface. Bobby was nearly on the dock now. There was no time to climb into the boat.
“Go,” Val commanded. “Get help.”
“He’ll kill you,” Dianne screamed, her face sheet-white.
Val shoved at the boat ineffectually. “Just go!”
Bobby let out another roar, firing again and again. Val heard a shrill scream as Dianne threw the throttle forward. Dianne had been hit and there was no way for Val to know how bad it was.
Be safe, she wished. Wishing was all she could do for them at this point. She’d gotten them safely away. Now she needed to think about saving herself.
The boat took off downriver, its wake swamping Val. She swam beneath the dock and slogged her way to the bank, wedging herself between the shore and the wood above her.
Bobby fired several more times before abruptly ceasing.
The boat was gone. They’d gotten away.
But I’m still here. And Bobby still had at least four bullets left in his magazine.
“I know you’re there,” Bobby said. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he added in a mocking singsong.
Val shuddered and fought a wave of nausea. She’d heard Drysdale tell Corey and Bobby about her ordeal, about what the men had said to her, how they’d taunted her. She’d expected Corey and Bobby to use it against her, had tried to prepare herself for the words, but for a moment she was back in Iraq and she was young and she was scared and she was escaping into her mind. They couldn’t hurt her when she was in her mind.
Stop. You’re not that Ingrid. You’re Val. You’re strong. You’re Kaj’s.
And you have Bobby’s big-ass gun.
Hands trembling, she shrugged out of the backpack and unzipped it. The backpack was designed to be waterproof, but the gun was still a little damp. Luckily, guns could fire when wet. Holding the gun gave her an infusion of courage. You can do this.
The splash made her jump and all of a sudden he was there, in front of her, bent over so that his head didn’t hit the dock above them.
Her courage wavered. He was big.
So big. Big hands.
Which reached for her.
She scrabbled away but was stopped by the piling at her back. Her hands were under the water. The gun was submerged. But she could hear her Marine trainer’s voice in her ear. Modern guns can be submerged for weeks and still fire.
Bobby grinned and it was a terrifying sight. “Nowhere to hide,” he crooned.
But Val wasn’t going to hide. She was going to fight.
“Nothing to say?” he mocked. “Well, you will. You’ll say ‘stop’ and ‘please’ and ‘don’t.’ You’ll beg. Oh, I’m going to enjoy you.”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. She simply lifted the big gun out of the water, pointed it at his chest.
And fired.
