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She grabbed the gun out of the holster at the same time as he grabbed her hand. Now they were wrestling for control of the pistol. She kicked at his ankle, knocking him sideways against the outboard motor. The boat was still rocking back and forth as it began to turn in a circle, with both of them fighting for control of the gun.
Nola’s hand was on the trigger as Hershel pushed the pistol up into the air. The first shot went off so close to his ear that he thought he’d been shot. He screamed in rage, but she didn’t turn loose, and her grip never wavered. As their boat swung back around again, he saw another boat bearing down on them with the other two Feds inside.
This was where a man had to know when to cut and run. He doubled up his fist and hit her on the jaw, then threw her over the side. He palmed the pistol, and opened the throttle as wide as it would go, leaving a rooster-tail of water flying up behind him as he fired off one shot after another at the boat behind him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tate thought the river smelled like death.
Whatever had flooded and floated away was mixed up into a dark, muddy stew as they raced upriver from Queens Landing.
Wind tore through his hair, burning his eyes and blurring his vision, but his gaze didn’t waver as he searched the roiling water ahead for signs or sounds of another boat.
Wade was sitting behind him, watching the riverbanks in case the killer might be moored, while Justin ran the motor at full throttle, keeping an eye out for submerged logs and gators.
They passed a flock of egrets roosting in a tree, and then an old rusted school bus that had become caught on something below the water. There was a gator on the far shore sunning itself, and another partially submerged nearby.
Tate wanted to go faster, but they were already pushing the engine to the max. Every mile they put behind them put them closer to the Landry homestead, but anything he might have used as a landmark was gone.
Come on, you bastard. Show yourself. Where the hell are you? At the same time he was cursing the killer, he was willing Nola to fight. Stay alive, baby, stay alive until we can find you.
They had been on the water for almost ten minutes and were coming around a bend in the river when Tate suddenly shouted and began pointing at a boat circling in the water. Two people were standing up and fighting, and the only thought going through his head was that they’d found them and Nola was still alive.
No sooner had he thought that than the killer swung a fist and hit Nola on the jaw. When the killer tossed her body over the side, Tate screamed and began firing as the killer gunned the engine and headed upstream.
Tate shouted at Justin and pointed in the direction they needed to go.
“She’s there! Get me closer!”
Justin swerved, and the boat skimmed across the water toward her body.
“Wade! Aim for the engine!” Tate yelled, because his own focus was on Nola.
She was still afloat, but barely. He could see her beginning to sink, and he began tearing off his jacket and kicking off his boots. He stood up and went over the side after her just as Justin cut the engine. By the time he came up, she was already gone. Only her long dark hair was still floating on the surface, and even that was going down fast. He lunged for it, frantically wrapping it around his wrist as he began to pull. She popped out of the water like a cork on the end of a fishing line, limp and lifeless. Her head lolled against her shoulder as he lifted her out of the water, and then he began to shake her, treading water as he waited for the boat to circle back.
“Damn it, Nola! Don’t you die. Don’t you dare die!”
Wade was shooting at the killer, but the boat was moving out of range. All of a sudden Justin shouted, “Use this!” and tossed a rifle at Wade.
He caught it and spun, took aim at the big engine on the back of the boat and fired, then fired again.
The explosion sent birds into flight. Gators were sliding into the water as flames shot skyward. The river was on fire.
Justin was already circling the boat. He pulled up beside Tate as Wade leaned over the side and pulled Nola’s lifeless body out of Tate’s arms. Moments later Tate was in the boat with them and Wade was on his knees performing CPR.
“Let me! Let me!” Tate yelled, and took over breathing for her as Wade did chest compressions.
They worked silently and in perfect unison while time seemed to stop. One minute passed into another and another, and when she finally gasped and then choked and coughed and began spitting up water, Tate rolled her onto her side.
“Thank you, Jesus,” he mumbled, and then rocked back on his heels and kept thumping her back, helping her cough up the water she had swallowed.
“She’s gonna make it!” Justin yelled, and then let out a whoop.
Wade was still on his knees and considered it a proper position for a moment of silent thanks.
She coughed again and again, until at last she drew breath without a struggle. When she finally opened her eyes, Tate took his own first easy breath.
“Tate?”
