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The chill in the night air combined with her wet clothing from the rain made her shiver. She couldn’t imagine what they’d do once they reached the opposite shore. What if the bad guys got back into a car and drove around to meet them on the other side?

“Paddle on the other side,” Jackson whispered. “We need to hug the shoreline.”

She shifted to do as he asked. Using her less dominant hand felt good for a minute or two, but then her arm muscles began to protest.

She was too out of shape! Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to dig her paddle through the water, putting her entire body into each stroke. She could do this. She had to do this.

Yet there was no denying that without Jackson’s help, she’d be sunk. Literally.

The lake seemed bigger now that they were in the canoe. This probably wasn’t the right time to let Jackson know she wasn’t a good swimmer. Hopefully they would be able to keep the boat afloat. And she took some comfort in the fact that Jackson was keeping them close to the shoreline.

She could dog-paddle that far. Or so she hoped.

Jackson didn’t say anything as he continued to take them along the shoreline. There were lots of foliage around, which should help them be less noticeable.

Yet it was difficult to ignore the very real possibility that the bad guys had overpowered Creed and were right now out there looking for them.

Waiting for an opportunity to fire at them.

“Okay, stop paddling for a minute,” Jackson whispered.

She rested the paddle across her knees, glancing back at him. “Are we getting off the lake?”

“Soon.” He cocked his head as if listening. She frowned, not knowing what had caught his attention.

Then she heard it, too. The faint wail of sirens. The police? Had someone reported the gunfire?

She glanced up at the cloudy sky, praying that Creed was alive and unhurt.

Not for the first time, she realized Jackson and all the other rangers faced danger like this on a regular basis. How they kept calm and cool under pressure, she had no idea.

She’d always loved her job of supporting them while they were in the field. Yet she was only the voice on the other end of the line.

Now she had a new appreciation for what they were exposed to in their line of duty.

“That’s a good sign,” Jackson said, breaking into her thoughts. “Creed must have been able to call for backup.”

“I hope so.” She tried to smile. “Does that mean we’re safe?”

“Not exactly.” He jutted his chin toward the shore. “See that tree with the branches stretched out over the water? That’s our landing point. We’ll use those branches to get ashore.”

“I see it.” Just knowing their trip across the lake was nearly over gave her the renewed strength to paddle. They were about halfway to the overhanging branches, when she heard a branch snap.

An animal?

The canoe abruptly tipped sideways, dumping her into the frigid water. Flailing her arms, she kicked her feet in a desperate attempt to reach the surface. Choking on the murky lake water she’d swallowed, she swiped the water from her eyes and glanced frantically around. Where was Jackson?

The canoe was floating away! Was Jackson hurt? Or worse, dead?

She opened her mouth to cry out in alarm when a crack of gunfire rang out. The canoe jerked beneath the force of a bullet. Her eyes widened in horror when she realized someone had just shot the canoe.

The gunmen had found them!

A strong arm clamped around her waist. Jackson’s voice was low in her ear. “Stay down. Don’t let the shooter see us.”

Striving to remain calm, she slowed her kicking beneath the water. Yet she didn’t see how this could work. It wouldn’t take long for the gunmen to realize they were in the water.

“Easy,” Jackson murmured. He slowly propelled them closer to the shore. Within a few seconds they were close to the low tree branches reaching out like gnarled arms over the water. “Grab the branch.”