Page 31 of Flynn

They were almost all the way across the lake when Taylor waved her arm. “There! That’s the house!”

She was right, there was no mistaking the three-story structure that loomed large on the aft side of the lake. Since that house had been behind her cousins in the photo, he turned to look at the property across from it. This section of Peabody Lake was narrower, so it was easy to see both properties.

The house directly across was enormous as well, and the boathouse sported an open deck that was clearly used for entertaining. Thinking back to the picture, he believed the Paulson brothers had been standing up on that deck when the photo was taken.

Making a mental note of the location of the home, he turned the boat engine, making a wide turn to head back to the rental property. Back in early June, when Grayson had been trying to track a killer on this very lake, Gabe had managed to identify the owner of a property that helped crack the case wide open.

Maybe their tech guru could do the same thing again now.

Even as the thought formed, he had to admit there was no indication that Taylor’s cousins were involved. Or that the lake house where they’d taken a picture would lead to a connection with the Russian Mafia.

Asking Gabe to track down the homeowners could be a waste of time. Digging into Nickoli Yurgis was more important. They really needed to find him or any of his known associates. If not? They would be right back where they’d started.

Having a name didn’t mean much if the guy was hiding deep underground.

Feeling grim, he cast his gaze over the lake. A hint of movement caught his eye, giving him pause.

Someone else was out on the lake too.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted in alarm. He instinctively angled closer to the shoreline on the same side of the lake as their rental house.

“Taylor? I need you to crouch down in the boat.” He strove to keep his voice steady.

“Why?” Then she saw it too. Without hesitation, she slid from the center bench until she was sitting on the bottom of the boat. Ducking her head, she asked, “Can you see who is in the other boat?”

“Not yet.” He didn’t like the fact that the boat was coming straight for them. The engine of the second vessel grew louder and louder as the boat closed the gap. And he felt certain it was bigger than the fishing boat engine putt-putting beneath his fingers.

He gave the boat as much gas as he could, but their speed didn’t change. Swallowing hard, he knew they weren’t going to make it back to the rental. The fishing boat was no match for the big powerful boat coming toward them.

“Lord Jesus, save us!”

Hearing Taylor’s desperate prayer gave him an idea. He abruptly yanked on the handle of the engine, bringing the boat in a tight turn. One thing about having a smaller vessel was that it was more agile.

Then he deliberately cut across the path of the oncoming boat like crossing the letterT.

In response, the driver tried to turn as well. But he was going too fast, and the boat was too big to respond quickly.

Swerving around the back of the boat, Flynn tried desperately to get back to the rental house. Then he heard the boat coming up behind them.

He made another quick turn to face the threat. He pulled his weapon from beneath the fleece as the crack of gunfire rang out. Seeing the gun in the boat driver’s hand pointed at them, he didn’t hesitate to return fire. Unfortunately, holding one hand on the boat’s tiller and moving across the water while firing meant he didn’t hit the perp.

Hearing several metallic pings, he belatedly realized the driver of the boat was drilling their fishing boat with bullets, likely because it was easier to hit the boat than a person. Water was already seeping in from the various bullet holes.

“Flynn?” Taylor’s voice was fearful. “What can we do?”

“Stay down.” He shifted to copy the perp’s idea, aiming at his much larger boat. The driver abruptly turned the vessel and sped away in the opposite direction.

There was nothing he could do to stop the gunman from getting away. As icy water sloshed over his shoes, he understood they didn’t have a second to waste.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered as he headed toward their rental house. If they sank much farther, they’d risk being submerged in the lake and succumbing to hypothermia.

The fishing boat engine abruptly died. Abandoning the tiller, he grabbed the oars, which were completely covered in murky lake water.

They were still twenty yards from shore, but he set the oars in the small holes on either side of the boat and pulled with all his might. They had to get back to solid ground.

They just had to!

Taylor had found a small bucket and was desperately trying to get the water out of the boat. It was a losing battle. He abruptly stopped rowing and reached for her. “We need to swim the rest of the way.”

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